If only I didn’t hate the bitch now.
I give him a dark look. Internally, I want to tell them all to go fuck themselves, but I manage to pull a smile out of my ass and plaster it on my fucking face.
“Dinner sounds good. Arrange it.” Sal’s eye twitches as he looks at me. Giving Sal orders is like poking a fucking shark, but I do it anyway. He’s been up my ass crack day and day out. I’m meant to be running the business, not him, and certainly not fucking Ric.
I give him a look that says ‘piss me off, go on, I fucking dare you’. All he does is grind his teeth and nod. I go back to smoking my cigarette, enjoying the way the hot smoke burns my damn lungs, making me feel for a second that I’m not dead.
I didn’t die that day when she gutted me, but some days…I fucking feel like it.
When I finally leave my room to head down to dinner, wearing a dark shirt, silver tie, with a gray suit, the jacket swung over my shoulder, everyone is already seated and waiting. I can see them through the hallway door as the staff bustle in and out with drinks on trays.
Except for Viola.
She’s standing at the top of the stairs like I am, on the other side of the staircase, wearing a black satin dress with a slit up one side—the side that has the branded H. Her blonde hair is braided down the back of her head.
She looks fucking divine. And the part of my chest that usually feels fucking empty, aches.
My hand tremors on the stairwell banister, making me grip it so fucking tight I’m sure she’s noticed. It’s what she does…read body language like she’s reading fucking minds.
That alone makes me hesitate.
I’m supposed to pretend to everyone here that I feel nothing for this girl when the exact opposite is true—I feel everything.
I can’t fucking do this.
But I need to.
If I don’t and my family finds out what she did, she’s as good as dead. My family is fucking monstrous.
I indicate for Viola to go down first. She lets out a sigh and walks down ahead of me, not once looking back. When we both enter the dining room, everyone around the long, rectangular table looks up. Lola is seated at the far end next to Ric, she frowns at me, a question on her lips on why we’re together. Lola is probably the only one here who knows Viola and I were an item in the past. So she’s reading into things, looking for connections that aren’t there anymore.
She’s worried about this deal, and so am I.
Ric cocks his head at my arrival. “Ah, here’s my stepson.” He glances at Viola. “And his pretty soon-to-be wife. Already getting acquainted, I see.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you arrived. I trust Jules saw to it that you have everything you need?” Viola asks smoothly like she’s been living under this roof her whole life and didn’t just move in a week ago.
When my family confirms they have, she gives a polished smile and takes her seat, the one opposite Lola and Ric. Sal, next to Viola on her right, immediately starts engaging in conversation about the history of the main house which is apparently a listed building. His primary business is burying bodies in real estate, so he’ll always start there if you let him.
Sorrow is next to Ric. She looks up at me with a hateful glare. I ignore her, greeting my uncles who are sitting at the far end and then take my seat at the top of the table on Viola’s other side.
Adrien hasn’t yet arrived.
I’m aware of Viola’s every fucking move during the first course. She’s the perfect hostess, asking questions about menial stuff, and making my family laugh. Sal seems to love her already. I know her enough to see that this is all a facade—her agency training coming to the fore. She’s playing a role. Immediately, it makes me fucking miss the real Viola. The one who’s salty and direct, the one who busts my balls if I fuck her off.
But I also despise that Viola too.
Every time I glance her way, I have to grip the cutlery I’m holding in my hands, and make myself stay in my damn seat. I need more time to get over this, whatever it is. Life is fucking ass raping me right now, and laughing about it.
I close my eyes and then drag them open, hearing Sal laugh at something she said. I’m staring at whatever plate has been put in front of me when Viola’s hand suddenly rests on my thigh. I jerk like I’ve been burned and then glare at her. She’s still talking to Sal, making no indication that she’s touching me outwardly.
Fucking bitch, what’s she playing at?
When she starts moving her hand, rubbing it over my trousers, I have to sit there and try to eat the pheasant or whatever the fuck it is. Until I can’t eat, because her hand is stroking over my cock that’s now rigid in my fucking pants.
“Kardinal?”
“What?” I say, quickly, glancing up, into the disapproving eyes of Lola opposite as Viola unzips my trousers and slides her hand into the opening.