Page 10 of Gluttony

“I was busy,” she replied, a half lie, her voice tight. “You know how I get when I near the finish line.”

Red leaned forward, knowing she could see him on her screen, and peered right into the camera, right into her. His gray-hazel eyes were darker than usual, harder than usual, and there was something shifting in their depths that made her heart skip.

Was that…was thatfear?

“I know, but this wasn’t just you being busy, Val, this was…,” he grunted, thrusting his thick fingers through his damp, mussed hair, “this felt like you were ignoring me.”

Because I was, she wanted to blurt, but she just barely held her tongue.

Because her brain liked to retain everything she saw and heard, she was methodical, linear, had to think and present information in an organized fashion, and she knew that if she wanted to get everything off her chest, to get to the bottom of what was going on, she needed to put all her data in the correct mental column.

With great effort, she dragged her gaze from the man she loved to settle it on the bedpost behind him. That fucking bedpost.

Tears scorched the backs of her eyes.

A new black hair tie.

The blonde.

He’d fucked the blonde.

What more do you need to know to see that you mean jack shit to him, that his promise meant nothing?

She had to know it all!

“Come on, Val, talk to me,” Red pushed, his large body tense, the width of his broad shoulders taking up most of the screen now, blocking out her view of the bedpost that was silently smirking at her from behind him.

Shaking her head to clear the rush of tears, she replied, “We do need to talk.”

If it was possible, he tensed more, raising his hand to scrub at his freshly shaven jaw.

“Yeah? What about? About why you were avoiding me today?” he asked, his tone slick with annoyance.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. Likehehad a fucking reason to be annoyed.

“Let me paint a word picture for you,” she began, the data lining up in her brain, the lines of emotional code filling her mind, page after page.

On the screen, his brow furrowed again as wariness hardened his gorgeous face. With that cut jaw, that wide, kissable mouth he hid behind a mask from everyone online, she was looking at something fantasies were made from. Thick dark eyebrows, wide gray-hazel eyes that were striking against his sun-kissed skin, a long nose with a wide base that seemed a little too big for his face but only added to the rugged allure of him. His cheeks were cut from glass, his neck was thick and decorated with tatts, and his dark hair was shorn at the sides but left longer on the top. He often used his hair as a sort of prop during his videos, letting it fall across his forehead to shade his eyes, only adding to those sexy as hell “bad boy” vibes viewers loved.

She loved it, too.

He pursed his lips, dropping his chin, his gaze still on the camera, staring at her though he couldn’t see her.

“Wait…you’re not going to explain why you ghosted me today? Why didn’t you at least answer when I called? I know you heard it.”

She had; his ringtone was “Dirty Mind” by Boy Epic; its sensual beats and sizzling lyrics made it hard to ignore. But she had, becauseshe had to.

“Humor me, please,” she asked, hating that there was a plea in her voice. The man didn’t deserve her supplications.

Again, he pursed his lips, but this time he fell back and crossed his thick, veiny arms over his chest, hiding his muscular perfection and vivid tatts from her hungry gaze.

Focus, hussy!

“Fine. Go ahead, paint me the word picture—whatever the fuck that means.” Oh, so he was getting pissed. Well, fuck that!

Fuck him!

Gritting her teeth, her nostrils flared, anger finally rearing its head. All last night and all that day, she’d been wallowing in sadness, uncertainty, hurt, grief, and anxiety. But now…anger had arrived.

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