Stealing Her (Covet 1)

He was silent for a minute and then, “I don’t think we really have a choice, do you, Izzy?”

I sighed in defeat. “When it comes to Edward Tennyson, no, you rarely have a choice.”

Chapter Fifteen

BRIDGE

Pizza.

You’d think I’d just offered her an animal sacrifice with the way she looked at me when I said that word. I was doing everything wrong when it came to her, but I couldn’t stand one more minute of her flinching or pulling away or thinking that I was the monster in this story even when all signs still pointed to me being exactly that.

Mom was getting treatment.

Julian was healing.

If I focused on those two things, I could justify everything else.

A few cameras homed in on us while we sat there and ate. I looked up and froze as I eyed the flat-screen in the corner. It showed Julian’s face and was talking about the miraculous recovery, him becoming CEO, finance’s golden boy. To the world, Julian Tennyson was perfect.

And breathing on his own.

One thing was for certain, the accident was still front-page news, which irritated me even more because that meant Dad was right.

The media needed something else to talk about.

I stared across the table at Izzy, then reached for her hand and squeezed it.

All I wanted to do was tell her the whole sordid story. I was the other half, the part my father didn’t want. I was the one that got in fights at school trying to protect Julian, I was the brother who didn’t care about his grades and flirted my way through my eighth grade year knowing the world was mine because of who my dad was, even though we didn’t have a good relationship. I was arrogant, rash, and didn’t care about anything but my brother and my mom.

And Julian? Julian was the one I always wanted to protect, the brother who I’d find crying himself to sleep after he showed our dad his A only to have that father ask him why it wasn’t an A-plus. I always told Julian that grades were bullshit, but it was never enough. All he wanted—all he ever wanted—was that moment you see in the movies were the dad hugs the son and says, “Well done.”

Julian would be waiting an eternity.

“So . . .” I bit off a large piece of pepperoni pizza and let out a moan that earned me at least two stares from people sitting across the room and a slack-jawed expression from Izzy. “Sorry, that’s incredible. I was starving.” I took another bite and wiped my face with my napkin, then said to hell with it and polished off the entire piece.

Izzy cut her pizza with her knife and fork, hands shaking, and lifted a piece to her perfect pout.

“No.” I shook my fork at her. “That not how you eat pizza.”

“I’m wearing all white.”

That was another thing. “Why are you wearing all white?” I just had to ask, not that she wasn’t beautiful with her pink lips and cascading hair.

She frowned like I should know the answer then shrugged. “Your father says white’s a powerful color. It’s hard to clean, expensive to put together, and always stands out in a room full of suits. The man likes all his women in white.”

I scowled. “Once we’re married I give you permission to burn all the white clothes and start wearing sweats. It’s the least I can do. Besides, white seems too innocent.”

She choked on her sip of water and croaked out, “Are you saying I’m not innocent?”

Was she flirting or pissed?

I went with flirting and leaned forward. “You tell me.”

Her cheeks flushed. “We’re in public.”

“So that’s a no for sex next to the pizza?”

Her eyes widened a fraction before she tugged in her lower lip and sucked it. “Remember that time senior year at the Mexican restaurant?” No. And I didn’t want to know how my brother had his mouth on her, or how she screamed his name, would scream his name, not mine.

“I’d love to hear you tell me.” I had no other choice.

“Hmmm, not appropriate, just like it wasn’t appropriate for you to lock us in the only bathroom and hike my dress up past my hips when you found out I wasn’t wearing any underwear.”

I choked down a bite of pizza and tried not to let my mind go there, even though it completely did. Her, no underwear, me hiking up her skirt.

I smiled at that. “What did you expect would happen?”

“Hah, that’s exactly what I wanted to happen, and you know it. I was always trying to make you push your boundaries. You know how you were, so worried about your brand, your family’s image, what your dad would say if he found out you were having sex in the bathroom . . .” Her voice trailed off, her smile slipped. “Sorry, what was the question?”