Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
29
QUINTON
I don’t remember the last time I was this irritated. Every little sound from Anja makes me want to grab a fork and jab it into my ear. Then there’s her not-so-subtle glances and touches. I swear if she touches the sleeve of my tux one more time, I’ll be tempted to rip off each one of her long, red-painted nails.
At this point, her screams would be more pleasant than the stupid giggly sounds she makes every time my mother says something. I’m so fucking irritable, I don’t even like myself right now. I can’t even enjoy Scarlet being here. Not when we are in public, and I have to treat her like shit, and definitely not when Aspen and fucking Matteo are sitting across the table from me.
Even worse, Matteo’s father, Michael, is here as well, and the dark gleam in his eyes and the way he’s watching Aspen make me uneasy.
Why the hell is she here and with Matteo, of all people? Is this all a game to her? I doubt it. She would rather run through fire than be stuck anywhere with him, let alone voluntarily come as his date. I recall my father’s reaction, and suddenly, it becomes clear that he knew she was coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who invited her.
The question is, why?
I’m vaguely aware of the music being lowered and someone announcing that dinner will be served momentarily. A few minutes later, servers arrive at our table, setting large platters with an array of food in the center of the table. My eyes catch on Lucas approaching our table with his brother, Nic, and his wife, Celia. I know enough about the Diavolo family that it’s better to have them as your ally than an enemy. My father, of course, pushes out of his chair and greets them, giving Nic and Lucas a handshake. My mother gives Celia a little wave and smile, which she politely returns.
“I hope everyone is enjoying the festivities?” Lucas asks, his eyes gliding over the table. I notice the way his gaze hones in on Aspen, and my skin crawls. I hate the way everyone is looking at her, but what the hell am I to do? The dress she’s wearing alone puts an X on her back.
“Yes, everything is great. Thank you for inviting us. I hope Quinton isn’t causing too much trouble,” my mother jokes, but no one laughs, least of all me.
“Of course not. Quinton is a star student.” Lucas and my father let out a chuckle, almost like there’s a hidden meaning behind their words.
Nic and Celia take a seat at the table next to us, and Lucas and my father exchange words that I can’t hear. I drag my attention back to the table. As soon as my father returns to his seat, the servers start asking everyone what they would like, then proceed to pile food onto the plates.
Aspen stares wide-eyed, inspecting the food carefully as if she is trying to figure out if it’s poisoned or not. Only when she sees everyone around her start to dig in does she pick up her fork and start eating herself.
I watch as she cuts into the steak, spearing a generous piece and bringing it to her lips. Once the large chunk of meat is inside her mouth, she closes her eyes and starts chewing with a low moan that has my cock twitching in my pants.
She catches herself a moment too late, and her eyes fly open. Luckily, I seem to be the only one who noticed. She clears her throat and continues eating. Her restraint doesn’t last long because a moment later, she is shoveling potatoes and carrots into her mouth like she hasn’t eaten in years. This time, everyone at the table takes notice.
“Jesus, slow down, pig.” Matteo laughs, and I’m one second away from throwing the steak knife at him. In my mind, I see it landing in his right eye, blood running down his face, soiling the crisp white tablecloth. I can hear his scream and see myself smiling like a sadist.
“Are you not going to eat, Quinton?” My mom’s voice drags me from my bloody fantasy.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. “Some people at this table spoiled my appetite.” I’m talking about Matteo, but I’m sure everyone else here assumes I’m talking about Aspen. I look at Matteo to drive home my statement, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care.
I stare at Aspen, admiring her beauty. Her long blond hair is falling off her shoulders in soft curls. She’s wearing a red dress, revealing much more than it should. Her makeup is fresh and not overly done. She is beautiful, and I kind of hate it because now that I see it, I don’t think I’ll be able to unsee it.