Page 12 of Devoted (Love and Burlesque #2)
CHAPTER TWELVE
KNIGHT
Brick by fucking brick.
T he encounter with Benny last week left me unnerved.
If it’s that easy for him to see my infatuation with Vivian, there is no doubt that others at least suspect something is afoot.
I’d love to say, “fuck it,” and pursue her properly, to show her there’s more to me than my brutish tendencies, but I know love isn’t in the cards for me. Not anymore.
Nearly twenty-five years ago, what I thought was my first love ended in the disaster that was my fleeting marriage.
Rachel and I were socialite teenagers when we met, only seeing each other at society events, yet I fell for her immediately.
I’d like to say my stalker tendencies are a recent development and present only with Vivian, but that would be a lie.
As a lovestruck teenager, I kept a close eye on Rachel, learning things about her, until I finally gained the courage to ask her to be my girlfriend.
There were a few things in our relationship that should have raised an alarm, but I realized it too late.
She would only see me in secret, and she wouldn’t introduce me to her friends or family. I rationalized it as Rachel being private about her dating life. All the same, I was willing to be anything to her—secret or not—as long as I could have her love.
After a few months of secret dating, Rachel and I made the decision to elope when we turned eighteen. Our birthdays weren’t far away, and they were just a few weeks apart, so we didn’t have to wait long to get married. It was all so sudden and secret, I hadn’t even discussed it with my own mother.
Things changed immediately after we wed.
When she used to be happy being in my presence, she quickly became detached and would often leave for days without telling me where she was going or who she was with.
I thought maybe she needed the space; we did rush into this after all.
We didn’t even live together yet. We were adolescents still living with our families.
Everything came to a crash one night when I purposely went to a party I knew she would be attending. I found her in the kitchen where I overheard her loudly telling her friends how she would come into her inheritance in a few weeks and how she could finally divorce me and leave this town.
Hiding in the shadows of some fraternity house is where my heart shattered, and even now, the hurt lingers. Rachel was never in love with me; I was an easy means to an end for her to get her inheritance with some stupid marriage clause. I was her secret to be disposed of as soon as she used me.
I remember running home and confessing everything to my mother.
Harriett comforted me and assured me everything would be resolved.
Ezekiel was there as well, head immediately stuck in a book about divorce law in our state.
Between the two of them, they kept me sane through the process of my separation.
I haven’t the slightest clue if Rachel was able to cash in her inheritance from our fluke of a marriage. I honestly do not care.
Adding to my list of regrets, a little over eleven years ago, I committed the stupidest act of my life.
The first mistake was hosting Ezekiel’s bachelor party in Las Vegas.
The second mistake was letting myself indulge in the sins of the city.
The third mistake was asking a woman from a nearby bachelorette party to marry me.
A moment of vulnerability almost changed the course of my life again. But thankfully, Sabrina was just as regretful as I was. While my second divorce didn’t hit as hard as the first one, it still isn’t something I’m proud of.
After that, I built my walls up even higher and have been an unattached bachelor ever since.
Only now, I’m about to share a family brunch with the woman who is tearing those defense walls down brick by fucking brick.
Thirty minutes. I survived thirty minutes in a house full of Adlers and Delgados before I needed a reprieve. When Ezekiel said he and Alek wanted everyone over for brunch, I didn’t expect to see my mother instantly become friends with the woman who has plagued my every waking thought.
But, no, I watch them from behind a shrub in Ezekiel’s garden.
Harriett, Vivian, and Emma are doubled over in laughter, their drinks miraculously staying in their cocktail glasses.
Part of me finds it mortifying—what if Harriett suspects something between Vivian and me?
There isn’t a reason why she would be suspicious, I think. My anxiety seems to think otherwise.
Inversely, what if Vivian has caught onto me? She’s been acting odd at the club. I haven’t been there as often this last week, but every time I was, she did her damnedest to ignore me. I fully expected her to confront me about her office chair. Not even that trespass earned me a scolding from her.
I hopelessly miss her anger.
A loud voice calls us into the dining area, stating that food will be ready in a few minutes.
Staying in my hiding spot, I wait a few minutes after watching the three women walk into the house.
My steps are slow and measured as I follow behind them, the drink I shared with Ezekiel earlier this morning making itself known.
I’m the last one to step into the dining room. Everyone else is already situated, and my pulse begins to quicken when I notice there is only one chair left. A chair that happens to be right next to Vivian.
Either I’ve angered the gods, or someone is fucking with me. Knowing the present company, it most likely is the latter.
Walking over to my seat, I casually unbutton the jacket of my suit, opening it slightly as I sit down. Given my size and the gorgeous curves of Vivian’s thighs, my leg brushing up against hers is inevitable at this moment.
I fight to keep my eyes off her, and thankfully, Ezekiel provides me enough distraction with his welcome speech.
As he speaks, my peripheral vision catches Vivian’s subtle movement.
She steals a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board, popping it into her mouth and savoring the morsel like it’s the last piece of cheese on earth after an apocalypse.
My lips betray me as they curve into a smile at her antics. I store the information for later: cheese makes her happy.
Brunch goes smoother than I thought it would, even though Vivian doesn’t speak a word to me.
I’m relieved she doesn’t. We can’t interact as we normally do—not with so many prying eyes around.
Between the two families seated at the table, there are enough loudmouths and stories to go around that no one notices how both she and I are silent.
I swear I caught her eyeing me a few times during our meal. Come to think of it…
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot something that makes warmth bloom in my chest. She has plenty of space on her other side. There isn’t a feasible reason for her to be pressed so close to me under the table, our thighs practically molten with our shared heat.
Could this truly be as normal as it feels? To have her close to me, quietly basking in each other’s presence, at a table full of our most loved ones.
The possibility of it terrifies me.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” I comment, setting my napkin on my plate. With a swift push of my chair, I am standing and leaving the dining area in seconds. Thankfully, we were reaching the end of the meal anyway, so hopefully, no one thinks much of my sudden departure.
Knowing this house almost as well as my own, I find an alcove near the den to relax for a moment. Of course, that doesn’t last long when Vivian passes me in my hidden area. She hasn’t a fucking clue how I watch her every step toward one of Ezekiel’s decorated bookshelves.
Her fingers glide over the spines of books exactly as she caressed my shoulders the night she patched up my suit. I feel the ghost of her touch coincides with her appraisal of the gothic fiction books.
Stepping closer, I try to keep my footsteps light in my attempt to see what book she’s taken off the shelf. I love knowing these little things about her. The food she likes and the books she’s interested in are precious facts I shelve away in my mental library.
From my hiding spot behind the door, I can see it’s an intricate edition of The Phantom of the Opera .
Vivian’s fingers caress the artwork. Long maroon nails trail across the lettering on the front, then down the spine in a way that leaves my head spinning. Suddenly, her expression changes. Her eyebrows pinch together, and a small frown forms on her beautiful lips.
So enthralled by her, I don’t notice the misstep of my left foot, which causes the door shielding me to creak loudly and break her spell on me.
Vivian’s eyes land on me immediately. Although half of my face is hidden behind the door, she must know it’s me.
I’m expecting a hint of surprise or some sort of exasperation from her, yet all she does is smirk with those red-stained lips of hers.
It only lasts a moment before she gives her attention back to the bookshelves, effectively dismissing me entirely.
That one twitch of her lips leaves me feeling like I’m the prey when I thought myself the predator only moments ago.