Page 114 of The Cute Psycho

"Vlad, enough." Marcello grits his teeth, looking at Vlad as if he'd like nothing more than to shoot him.

"Come on, old pal, you've forgotten our golden days?"

"Wow, you've known Marcello for that long?" Catalina doesn't seem to pick up on the tension between the two, her usual good-natured disposition shining through as she tries to include Vlad in the conversation. "What can you tell me about him?" She smiles, oblivious to the undercurrent as she laces her fingers through Marcello's.

"What can I, indeed." Vlad's face erupts into a wide, charming smile. He knows he has an in through Lina and he's taking full advantage of it. "We were closer than siblings, weren't we, Marcello?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Was he as brooding then as he is now?" Lina is quick to ask, leaning over the table, her face full of curiosity.

"Oh, even more. I could barely coax a word out of him. Sometimes I had to ask a question and answer it too." Vlad laughs and everyone joins in, since Marcello is not the most talkative individual. "But he had a gift."

"A gift?" It's Venezia who asks.

Somehow Vlad's managed to entrance the entire table and make everyone invested in his story.

"Yes, a gift for art. Why, he's a wonderful sculptor. You should have seen his art pieces." Vlad shakes his head, pursing his lips and releasing a mournful sound. "Too bad he's given it up."

"Vlad, stop," Marcello's voice is low and I detect a tinge of threat.

"Art? Really? Oh, Marcello, you have to show me," Lina says excitedly.

"Maybe some other time," my brother mutters.

"Yes, he needs very specific materials." Vlad leans back in his seat, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"What do you mean?" Lina asks, a frown appearing on her face as she looks between Vlad and Marcello.

"Hmm, what indeed, Marcello?" He tilts his head to the side, pushing his chin up as if daring my brother to answer. "The tongue of a traitor, the skin of a deceiver, the d..."

"That's enough!" Marcello's hand hits the table, and everyone is suddenly quiet.

"Tongue of a traitor?" Claudia asks, her eyes wide.

"Vlad, so God help me, Iwilldo what I promised," Marcello speaks, the threat unmistakable.

"See, this is what I'm talking about. You and your God..." Vlad shakes his head, sighing deeply. "Is that who you left me for? See, I don't get this God business. Imaginary friends aren't as much fun as you'd think."

"There are children at this table, Vlad. Censor yourself," Marcello tells him, Lina's touch the only tether to keep him from snapping.

"Children are children, until they are not," Vlad replies vaguely, his lips stained with red from the wine.

My eyes hone in on that, and I find it increasingly harder to pretend I don't know him, or that I'm not aware of his presence in this room. I only have to look at his broad shoulders, the way his throat contracts when he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, or how the hollow of his neck makes me want to swirl my tongue around it, dripping wine inside and licking him clean.

Damn, why do I have to be so wanton?

I don't know what his game is, and why he's intentionally riling my brother up, since it's clear he has a death wish. And looking at Marcello, I know it's just a matter of time before he snaps.

Vlad's gaze moves around the table until it settles on me.

"And how old is our birthday girl now?"

"Twenty-one," I answer, narrowing my eyes at him. He knows fully well how old I am.

"That means she canlegallydrink alcohol, can she not?" He stands up, taking the bottle and two glasses with him. He places one in front of me, filling it to the brim, before doing the same with his.

"Happy Birthday!" He clinks the glasses before taking a sip of his, his eyes never leaving mine.

I take my own glass, lifting it to my mouth. But just as the liquid is about to hit my lips, a hand stops me.

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