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“Lucian!” she squeaks.
I take pity on her, loosening my hold so she’s able to back away and over to the man she actually belongs to.
Lucian Devoreaux.
The world-class fuckboy stands to my right, eyeing me like he just walked out to recess late to find me playing with his favorite toy. Daphne smiles, her manufactured expression painfully overexaggerated while she attempts to placate him.
I bet he doesn’t even realize that isn’t her natural smile.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, pulling him into a hug.
“I got out of work earlier than I thought and decided not to waste an evening I should be having with my best girl.”
I scoff, knowing full well Belinda Burke must’ve called him the second I came within three feet of her daughter. That woman is the fucking bane of my existence, which is saying something considering the shit show I’m navigating on a daily basis.
My small act of insolence doesn’t go unnoticed, garnering me the attention of her walking, talking douche of a fiancé. It’s obvious he doesn’t care for me—the scowl he struggles to tamper is evidence of that—but Luc’s far too big a pussy to do shit about it. Aside from the fact he has a better understanding than most of what I’m capable of, I’ve made his father so much money over the years, he’d stand to be disowned if he ever did anything to jeopardize our working relationship.
He finally manages to school his expression, extending a hand to me in greeting. “Nick.”
“Devoreaux.” My palm grips his, giving a firm shake. I squeeze harder than necessary, the force of my grasp eliciting a slight wince, though he recovers quickly enough.
“So,” he clears his throat, “what were you two talking about?” Lucian eyes us skeptically, his gaze shifting between the two of us.
“Sound effects,” I reply, earning me a scathing glare from Daph that turns me on more than it should.
“Sound effects?” Confusion colors his features, though Daphne doesn’t allow me to clarify.
“Ignore him. I’ve learned to.”
Oh, you filthy little liar.
Lucian looks like he has more questions, but his attention is suddenly drawn downward. Brow furrowing, he takes in the sight of her skin exposed by the strategic slit I cut only minutes ago.
“What happened to your dress? That wasn’t there this morning when you had it hanging on the closet door.”
“It tore,” she responds quickly. “I improvised.”
“Jesus, Daphne.” He steps back to gain a better look. “What did you do? Blow a seam?”
“You insinuating something by that, Devoreaux?” I step forward, my swift advancement catching him off guard and causing him to flinch in retreat. Lucky for him, Daph steps between us, planting her hand to the center of my chest. Like a dog obeying its handler, I heel.
Once Lucian’s confident I’m not going to shoot him, he relaxes. Fidgeting with his tie, his posture straightens to full height once again. His eyes fixate where her palm is pressed to my heart, briefly darkening with discontent before shifting to her with adoration.
“You look beautiful, Daphne. You know that.” He takes hold of her hand just as the music changes tempo, pulling her into him and effectively robbing me of the warmth of her touch. Luc strokes a finger down the length of her nose before playfully bopping the tip in a sickening show of over-the-top affection. “How could you not while wearing this?” His hand dips lower to the base of her throat where a strand of emerald cut diamonds snakes around her slender neck.
I track the movement of his fingers as they graze across her skin, mapping the near exact path my tongue has traveled on more than one occasion. Jealousy stokes a burning rage within me, the flames of envy simmering just beneath the surface as I’m forced to watch him freely touch what I so desperately crave. I imagine peeling the skin from his hand, stripping away the various layers of epidermis until only his bones remain, leaving him unable to appreciate how soft she is.
“Did you show Nick your necklace?” Lucian’s question calls me to attention, interrupting the vision I was just starting to enjoy.
Daph shifts in his embrace, glancing at me with a sense of unease from the corner of her eye. “That’s really not necessary, Luc.”
“Oh, stop it. It was your birthday present. I want you to show it off.” He spins her to face me, gently brushing her hair back behind her shoulders, exposing the choker of glistening diamonds.
Daph glances down to the floor, clearly uncomfortable with the attention being drawn to the flashy piece of jewelry I know she didn’t choose for herself. Much like the massive rock adorning her left hand, it isn’t her style.
“Ten carats.” Lucian practically fucking preens.
I stifle a snort at his pathetic flex. The piece probably set him back fifty grand tops. Chump change like that? I could buy her one for every day of the year. It would be pointless, though, considering she wouldn’t want it.
