"Aaron," I said, feeling a swirling sensation start in my belly.
"Yeah?"
"If you've seen me every week for... however long," I started, turning to look at him and I saw the answer on his face before I even asked the question. "Has Byron?"
"Sweetheart," he said, taking my empty wine glass, "now you know why you're here." With that, he walked away, leaving me feeling like my brain was swirling.
Byron had been watching me? When he called my dad in, was that his plan all along? Did he just see me and decide I was an itch? God, how had I not considered that option before? It wasn't like he got accustomed to me, liked me as a person, then decided he wanted to fuck me. He saw me, wanted to fuck me, manipulated my life to make that happen, and then maybe started to appreciate me as a human being.
I looked up to see Byron watching me, brows drawn together like maybe he picked up on some of the shock and anger and hurt on my face. He excused himself from his group and made his way toward me. Not trusting my mouth to keep shut and not wanting to make a scene, I slipped sideways and away just as he closed in. The last thing I saw before I disappeared was his brow lifted and the promise there that said he was going to get to the bottom of my actions.
I didn't come back out when desserts were delivered. I didn't even find myself caring what the reactions were. When things started to sound like they were dying down at the party, I left Ella to get her cleaning done, kicked out of my heels, and made my way outside. I just needed a couple more minutes of peace. At a loss for what to do, I went off toward the walking track and did a few laps before moving to the grassy center and lying down, looking up at the sky.
It didn't surprise me when Byron's body towered over me a while later.
"What the fuck is this?" he asked, waving a hand at me.
"I needed some fresh air," I said, avoiding looking at him.
"Your desserts were a hit in case you care," he informed me, knowing damn well that I cared.
"I'm glad your party was a success."
"Alright, cut the shit. What did Aaron say to you?"
I turned my head slightly to look up at him, ridiculously handsome even from that angle. "He just mentioned that he had seen me many times over the years. I put the rest together."
"What did you put together?"
"That this was some elaborate set-up."
"Right. So I forced your father to learn how to count cards and then come into my casino and steal from me for the express purpose of getting in your pants."
"Did you used to watch me on the cameras?"
Byron sighed, taking his hands out of his pockets. Then he was down on the ground, his legs straddling my hips. It was an intimidating pose, but I knew better than to actually be scared of him. "Did I see you?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek. "Face like this, yeah, babe, I fucking saw you. Saw your love and determination too. But that doesn't mean this was a trick. I didn't even know you were coming with Mack until you showed up here. Did I see an opportunity and take it? Fuck yeah I did. Can you blame me?"
"So I am an itch."
"You're not a fucking itch. In case you haven't been paying attention, Prue, I've fucked you in every position, in every hole. And you're still here. If you were an itch, you'd be long scratched by now. So stop bringing that shit up."
"Why haven't you told me that you've seen me? Or watched me? Or whatever."
"Because this is what I knew would happen. You'd bend it all out of proportion and make it something it's not. I saw you. I thought you were hot. Maybe I gave some thought to fucking you. But, babe, if it was anything more than that, I would have come down and gotten the job done on any one of those nights."
"I wouldn't have fucked you," I insisted.
"Yeah, you would have."
"Um, no. The only reason you got in my pants is because I got to spend some time with you and see past the asshole-persona."
"If that's what you need to tell yourself, babe."
"It's not that you're not attractive. You are. But that's not the point."
"You're a relationship girl. It's hard for you to accept that sometimes your body just wants what it wants," he informed me, shifting his weight, going down on his forearms, and pressing his legs between my thighs.
"It's more than that," I admitted, giving him more than I told myself I would ever give him.