She met Brock’s eyes across the distance separating them, anger storming over her. She watched him sigh, a slow careful heave of his chest, a flash of pain in his eyes. Bastard. He was no better than Mark. There he sat with the woman he likely screwed on a regular basis, watching her like she had hurt him. Tears burned at her eyes, tightened her chest, and she wanted to scream with the unfairness of it.
“Sarah, you just dazed out on me.” Dillon Carlyle sat across the table from her, lounging casually in his chair, watching her with an expression that clearly showed his amusement.
He was more handsome than he had a right to be, with his thick black hair and brilliant green eyes. He was almost as tall as Brock, but cockier, more cynical rather than shadowed.
“You knew he would be here.” She turned back to him, almost shaking with anger as she picked up her wineglass and finished it off quickly.
Dillon lifted a brow, then refilled the glass. She took a healthy drink of it as well.
“Actually, I wasn’t certain,” he told her, his lips quirking in a smile. “But I was curious about the rumors circulating.”
If he weren’t her brother, she would kill him. She might just do it anyway.
“What rumors?” she bit out, trying to pretend they didn’t exist.
His look chided her. He knew her too well and she had never appreciated how easily he used the information when he wanted something from her.
“Oh, the little ones that say you’ve joined the August family.” He shrugged, watching her carefully. He seemed worried though. Hell, she didn’t blame him, she was worried. “Have you, Sarah?”
Sarah flushed. She felt the heat begin in her neck and work its way to her hairline. She couldn’t get away from it, no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t escape Brock or what he wanted. She felt pummeled from every direction and she was growing weaker by the day.
“No.” She drank more of the wine, ignoring the once appetizing pasta that sat in front of her.
“Are you thinking about it?” He frowned now as he watched her. “You seem pretty upset over him.”
“No.” She wasn’t even considering it. Damn Brock. Damn Dillon for bringing her here. Damn her aching, for wanting to give Brock August whatever he wanted in return for the pleasure that sang through her body at his touch. In return for the look of approval, the flare of emotion that came to his eyes when he touched her. Like he finally had all he ever wanted in her arms. A lie. It was all a lie, and she couldn’t make herself accept it.
“I think you are.” He was suddenly serious. “Do you know what you’re getting into, Sarah?”
She glanced at him, then her eyes went back to Brock. He was watching her, his gaze hot and intense. God, she hated it when he did that. It made her ache, made her want what she knew she couldn’t have. What Marly was clearly comfortable with.
“I’m a moron.” She lifted the glass again, taking a healthy drink of more wine.
She was insane to be so aroused when she was so pissed off. She was insane to allow herself to be drawn into this. She knew what was happening, knew what he was trying to do to her. Why was she allowing it?
Her gaze flicked to Dillon’s concerned one. His green eyes had darkened, narrowed on her.
“Don’t look at me that way, Dillon,” she bit out. “I’m not one of your puzzles.”
“You’ve always been a puzzle, darling,” he said softly. “I’ve wondered for years actually, why it hadn’t happened sooner. Brock used an incredible amount of self control to stay away from you until the divorce.”
“God, did everyone know?” She rubbed her brow, trying to fight the tension she could feel gathering there.
“Not everyone, Sarah.” He leaned closer, his elbows resting on the table as he watched her. “A few of us, though. A very few who are part of his circle of friends.”
Fear leapt into her heart. Her eyes widened.
“No, Sarah.” He shook his head slowly. “Just friends. The August men don’t share their women. They are incredibly greedy.”
Hah, that was a good one.
“Not greedy enough,” she muttered.
She looked at him again. He was watching Dillon now, a harsh frown on his face.
“He’s very angry with me.” There was an edge of resignation in his voice. “I hope he doesn’t break my nose too.”
“What?” She looked at him in surprise, her gaze going to the small flaw in an otherwise straight, aristocratic nose.