Page 113 of Deliria

I know my brother is here, I know any minute he’s going to walk right up and make himself known, and then she’ll smileand laugh at him and fall right into his trap, exactly as my family intends.

A small part of me wants to ruin it right here, right now. To pull her aside and tell her the trouble she’s about to be in. I can imagine the fury on my father’s face as he realises I’ve fucked with his plans, ruined his one chance at redeeming our family’s good name and good fortune.

I let out a chuckle. It’s low, bitter, like that swirling fury in my heart.

Before I can mull over the consequences further, I’m walking, strutting across to the bar.

She spots me almost immediately and I swear her eyes sparkle with amusement, but I could also be imagining that.

As she moves to stand in front of me, I drag my eyes over her body, admiring the curves, the shape, all of her. She clearly works out, clearly takes care of herself, but her nails have the slightest hint of paint under them, revealing her true desire, her true passion.

“Finished appraising?” She says with a hint of a tease in her voice. Yeah, she’s confident, isn’t she? I’ll admit that haughty tone makes my dick come to life. And those pouty little lips, I can imagine what they’d feel like wrapped around me, gagging on me, drinking me dry. But that is also not why I’m here.

I’m here to destroy dreams, not create them.

“Could you blame a man for recognising a work of art when he sees it?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes as if she’s heard that line before. “What can I get you?”

I glance at the bottles behind her, acting like I give a shit what drink she pours me. “Whiskey, on the rocks.”

She nods, her lips curled up into a smirk and I couldn’t feel any more of a cliché if I tried.

As she plants it down on the marble counter, she murmurs the cost.

I pull out my wallet and place a note for her to take and as she reaches for it, I grab her hand, pulling her closer to me.

“You need to watch yourself, Scarlett.” I say.

She frowns, her face changing instantly from amusement to concern. “How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things about you.” I reply, keeping my voice low so it doesn’t carry. “For instance, I know that your surname is Heath, that your brother is Sebastian, and that you were brought up by your Aunt Janey who died two years ago in a car crash…”

She tenses up, trying to pull her hand back. “Who the fuck are you?” She snarls.

“You don’t need to worry yourself with who I am. You need to worry about someone else, Alexander Forster.”

She gulps before trying to yank herself free with more effort. “Fuck off, whoever you are…”

“Listen to me, he…”

“Scarlett? Is this man bothering you?” The other waitress, the brunette with a bad set of teeth says, trying to intervene.

“We’re having a private conversation.” I retort before Scarlett can speak.

“Sure you are.” Teeth remarks before turning to Scarlett. “Your friend is back. He’s asking after you…”

Scarlett turns her head. We all do and I see him there, waiting at the far end of the bar. Thankfully with the fake marble pillars positioned as they are, my face is hidden from view, but I know it’s him. I can tell from the way he holds himself, the way he’s tapping his fingers like he’s already bored of waiting.

“Listen to me…” I repeat, but Scarlett shakes her head.

“No, you listen to me.” She says. “Whoever the fuck you are, I don’t need advice, and I certainly wouldn’t take it from a creepy arse stranger…”

“He’s my brother.” I state, cutting across the last of her words. “Alexander is my brother.”

She lets out a laugh, a sharp puff of air that’s full of contempt. “Oh I see, is this some pathetic attempt to piss him off? Did you imagine yourself as some sort of hero, is that it? Thought you’d swoop in and try to save me before your wicked brother has his wicked way with me?”

“He’s not who you think he is. He’s dangerous, Scarlett.”

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