Page 8 of Lovely Venom

“Yes, and you are renowned for your lively personality.”

The insult bounces right off him, as usual, and I search for a distraction, settling on Howard’s retreating form. I’m not sure he’ll even make it to the front door without passing out, but I also don’t have it in me to care.

It isn’t until Cristian reaches over and commandeers the glass of scotch from my hand that I return my gaze to his. He nods at the drink beside me, and I realize he must have brought it with him before he broke Howard’s hand.

I stare at the espresso martini, swallowing the uncomfortable feeling that arises. It’s funny that a man who doesn’t even like me remembers my preferred drink, but Marco can’t.

“Why are you being nice?” I toss him a suspicious glance. “Did you spike this with arsenic or something?”

“Marco keeps the good scotch in the library,” he answers wryly. “It’s wasted on you.”

“Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way. I was beginning to think you had a personality transplant.”

He leans back against the table, his eyes scanning the crowd as I observe him in profile.

I’ve often heard it said that God took his time with the Vitale brothers, and as much as I hate to agree, it’s painfully accurate.

Like his brothers, Cristian has a warm olive complexion, a strong, angular jaw, and thick dark hair. He’s also impeccably built, with solid lines, broad shoulders, and hard planes of muscle. Beneath his tailored black suits, I’m certain his body is made for ruin.

He and Marco have known each other for years, but the two men are as different as night and day.

Marco coasts through life using his last name and rich-boy charm to open doors. He loves to be the center of attention, lives to socialize, and gets bored easily.

Cristian, on the other hand, is always serious, hyper-disciplined, and intentional about everything he does. He’s comfortable in stillness, and he doesn’t need to raise his voice to be the most dominant man in the room. His towering height and physical strength alone set him apart, but he’s also a man nobody wants to cross.

I tend to forget that when we’re arguing.

Following his gaze across the room, I see that Marco is still entertaining his friends, completely oblivious. I’m not sure why it bothers me so much that Cristian is witnessing this train wreck, but it does.

Maybe it’s because I know he recognizes that the people in this room accept Isobel, and they’ve never accepted me.

It’s just another reminder of this feeling I’ve always had that I don’t really belong anywhere.

I shouldn’t care what anyone at this party thinks of me, and the irony is that if they knew who I really was, they’d have no choice but to respect me. But I learned the hard way that when something is given out of deference, it’s never genuine. I’d much rather know who the snakes are than accept one more pretty lie from anyone’s mouth.

I reach for the martini Cristian brought me and take a sip before I work up the courage to state the obvious.

“I take it you came over here to gloat?”

He slides his gaze to mine, eyes darkening as he observes me.

“That your boyfriend is parading his ex around the room? It feels like low-hanging fruit, considering everyone else has already noticed.”

His remarks always hit with pinpoint accuracy, and this time is no exception. Anyone can see that the women in this room are doing enough gloating as it is. Most of them are secretly loving this silent little drama playing out. But I’m not convinced that Cristian isn’t enjoying this too.

“Let’s not pretend you haven’t been waiting for this moment,” I say. “The only difference between you and everyone else is that you wanted a front-row seat to my humiliation.”

A palpable silence stretches between us as he studies me, and the intensity of his stare unsettles me so much that I have to look away. Then he huffs out a sound that I choose to register as disgust before he shakes his head.

I swallow the rest of my martini, trying to wash away his confirmation. His disapproval isn’t a surprise. I just don’t know why it stings more than the others.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. If anything, tonight has reinforced what I already knew. I can’t let myself get caught up in the social politics of this world, and I definitely can’t let the opinions of others impact my choices.

What I need to do is maintain my new identity, stay safe, and continue to live a predictable life with low emotional stakes. This is why I got involved with Marco in the first place. It was supposed to be easy. Don’t dream forward. Don’t get invested. And prepare for the worst, just in case. Because in the end, I can only ever count on myself.

“Why do you care what I think?”

Cristian’s question catches me off guard, and when I drag my attention back to him, I feel the full weight of his scrutiny. I don’t have a reasonable answer to that, and he knows it. So I deflect.