Page 264 of Satan's Spawn
“So, Rebecca, I see you’ve been keeping my son out of a decent amount of trouble.” Mr. Shaw says from across the table, biting into his filet mignon.
“I do my best, Sir. But you know your son.” I attempt a smile behind my glass of water, feeling my hands shake like a leaf.
Which means everyone else can see it too.
In between awkward silences, stuttering words, and heat flashes, I’m attempting to make a good impression when all I really want is to be devoured like quicksand.
Death would be less painful than making a fool of myself in front of such a strong prestigious man.
“Oh, do I.” He grins at Crayton, who’s rolling his eyes. “And please, sweetheart, call me Cillian.”
For the past two weeks Crayton’s dad has been trying to get us to accompany him to dinner at his penthouse.
My nerves had me putting it off for as long as I can, but it’s only fair I experience the hot seat after Crayton had to endure my Mom on Christmas.
“Okay si—” I shake my head. “I mean Cillian.”
Cillian chuckles low, taking a sip of what I assume is an expensive red wine. “I take it Crayton is your first?”
I look between the both of them for assistance, but all I get is prying eyes and a fork scraping aimlessly across Crayton’s plate.
The sound makes me wince. “First, Sir?”
“He means first fuck.” The asshole finally participates in socializing, only to make my cheeks burn from embarrassment.
And his father’s redden with horror. “Jesus fuck, Crayton. I meant boyfriend.”
He shrugs. “Semantics.”
“I-I…”—enter more stuttering—“yes, he is.”
Cillians eyes are like fire on Crayton. “You must forgive my son, Rebecca, he’s got the social etiquette of a wasp.”
Crayton snorts, side-eying me to gauge a reaction. Which is a Converse to his shin.
“Relax you two…will ya?” Crayton reaches over the table to snatch a carrot off his father’s plate, even though he has more than both of us. “It was just a joke…Rebecca has been fucking her toys way before she met me.”
I nearly choke on the piece of zucchini I pulled from my fork, and my furious gaze slides to his.
“Are you done?” Cillian does not look amused, and quite frankly neither am I. “I’m going to step away for a minute so your girlfriend can kick you in the dick in private.” He takes in my flaring nostrils and angry breaths. “Or maybe worse.”
With that, he takes off into the kitchen across the hall.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” I stand, offering a hefty slap to the back of his head. “Why would you tell your dad that?”
Crayton intercepts my hand when it goes to hit him again. “Relax…you think he really believes me? The guy’s been putting up with my shit for as long as you’ve sprouted those sunshine pubic hairs.”
I instinctively cover my pelvis. “Don’t you fucking do it. If you talk about the color of my pubes to him I will literally stab you in the eye with the fork you used to pierce my brain.”
Crayton lets out a boastful laugh.
“Oh, holy shit you should see your face right now.”
My fists ball at my sides. “I’m trying to make a good impression.”
“Oh, you’re doing a fantastic job, too.”
I pick up a napkin and toss it at him. “Stop fucking around.”
