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The door to the apartment opens. She glances past me, and the way her gaze widens, I know who it is before I turn.
16
Vivian
I brush past Quentin and head toward his son.
Funny how I already think of Felix as Q’s son and not as my ex. His shoulders are squared, he’s pushed out his chest, and his jaw is set. He’s almost as tall as Q and while he isn’t as built, his wiriness has a certain appeal. He scowls at me, an accusing look in his eyes.
My steps slow. I begin to wring my fingers, then stop myself. He has no right to make me feel guilty about being seen with his father. He dumped me, so I can be with anyone I choose to be.
"Felix…" I put my hand on his arm; he shakes it off.
"Felix, listen to me, please." As I say it, I wonder why I'm the one begging him to listen now. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't bother. He left me at the altar, not the other way around. And yet, I feel guilty.
He continues to glower, first at me, then at Q. The band around my chest tightens. There’s so much animosity in the room, it’s making it difficult to breathe.
I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know Quentin must be glaring right back at him. Neither of them is going to give an inch.
My cheeks heat. How embarrassing to be caught between father and son. I do not appreciate this being thrust upon me, at all.
"Felix, please." This time, when I touch him, he grabs my arm. I’m so shocked, before I realize it, he’s pulled me into him.
There’s a sinewy strength to his frame which helps him hold me in place. Not that I try very hard to escape. Mainly because I’m taken aback. Felix has never acted this… aggressive, this commanding.
And maybe, a part of me wants to see what Quentin will do when Felix presses his lips to mine. Perhaps, it’s that curiosity which makes me stand without protesting and allow Felix to slant his mouth over mine.
The next second, he’s pulled away from me. Quentin plants his bulk between us.
With his back to me, he pushes his finger into Felix’s chest. "Back off."
I peer around Q in time to see Felix peel back his lips. "You don’t get to tell me what to do."
"In this case, I do. She’s my fiancée."
"I don’t see a ring," Felix snarls.
"Easily rectified."
"Hold on, don’t I get a say in this?"
How dare they talk about me as if I’m not standing in front of them? How dare Q, once again, make decisions for me without consulting me? How dare the two of them ignore me and focus on their stupid oneupmanship?
"She was my fiancée before she was yours.” Felix’s jaw flexes with anger.
"She’s mine now," Quentin says in a low, hard voice.
Jesus Christ! Did he just say that? How dare he. And why am I unable to stop the tremor of excitement fluttering in my lower belly? Why is it that he has to say the ‘mine’ word and I’m ready to do anything for him?
I manage to get a grip on my emotions. I don’t care how my body reacts to Q’s overprotectiveness. I need to be a part of this discussion. I am the one who has a say over my destiny. No one, no man, not even one as macho and as dominant as Q, can make decisions on my behalf.
"She belonged to me," Felix declares.
"Too late. She belongs to me now," Quentin growls.
"Hey!" I put my fingers to my lips and whistle. It cuts through the tension between them. Both men look down at me. Felix blinks. Quentin scowls.
"Let me make one thing clear. I belong to myself."
