3. Guess whos coming to motherfucking dinner? – Sasha #2
“I said, I get it.”
“Get what?”
He clears his throat as I turn to face him. “My mother died when I was young as well. I get it… the anger, the tough guy fa?ade. You miss your dad, and I sure my father’s presence isn’t he?—”
I cut him off with a simple raised palm. “What the fuck kind of shit is this? So now we’re bonding over dead parents? Just get in the fucking bathroom.” I flick the light on with an eye roll. “Don’t forget to fix your Superman curl, Captain Save-A-Hoe.”
“Why are you so rude?” he half whispers, half shouts.
“Why are you so annoyingly polite?”
His cheeks turn red, and he does everything to avert my gaze. “I… I don’t know.”
“Bingo! I am who I am, and unfortunately, so are you,” I reply before pushing him backwards into the bathroom and yanking the door closed.
He grumbles something in a language I don’t understand, but he doesn’t come back out.
You ever deadass feel like you might explode? Yeah, well, I’m ten motherfucking levels beyond that.
Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I call the security desk, locking myself in my father’s office.
“Good evening, Master Dragomir,” Meron answers after a single ring.
“Don’t Master Dragomir me.” I can’t be fucked to pretend to be polite. “Can you help me understand what the fuck Vahan Arakelian and his son are doing at my dining room table?”
“Sir, it was at your mother’s behest.” Something about his proper British accent is grating on my nerves tonight.
“You know my mother doesn’t know shit about what's going on,” I hiss down the line, pacing the floor before sticking my head out into the hall to make sure Vahan’s not finishing off the last parent I have—he strokes my mother’s cheek, and I almost storm back there and rip his fingers clean off.
“Why didn’t you inform me on the way up? ” I roar.
“Sir, I?—”
“Forget it.”
I can’t even think straight right now. All I can see is Vahan’s hands on my mother, his mouth on my mother. My phone is in pieces across the room before I even process it leaving my palm.
“FUCK!” I try to keep my voice down, but I’m sure at least Mr. Perfect heard me. And of course, as soon as I’m back in the hall, my suspicions are confirmed.
“Well, that sounded friendly.” He smirks, hands in his pockets.
“Anyone ever tell you eavesdropping is the least attractive trait a man can have?” I grumble as I brush past him.
“Hey.” He grabs my arm, which could mean his funeral because I’m set to detonate. However, to my surprise, something in his touch calms me…I shove the stupid prick off of me anyway.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” The words come out colder than I mean for them to, but I don’t take them back.
“Look,” he says before his hands fall to his side as if he’s used to being rejected. “Maybe we just go cool off for a second before we go back.” His eyes plead, soft and earnestly.
Against my better judgement, I listen to him, and find myself trudging back into my father’s office, snatching a crystal decanter of brandy off of the bar cart before slipping out onto the balcony.
Of course, Raffiel and his long-legged strides are right on my tail. Usually, this would never happen. Turning my back on an enemy is not my style, but Vahan’s advances on my mother have me too fucked up to care.
And I hate that I could trust anything about him, but he’s right—I need a second to cool off before our dinner turns into a Saturday night massacre.
“It’s beautiful out here,” Raffiel hums.
With a deep drag of liquor burning my chest, I grunt, “Get fucked.”
He chuckles, moving closer to the railing where I'm dead set on taking down mouthfuls of liquor until I can't see straight..
“Is that how you talk to all the boys, Romeo?” he asks, meeting my hard scowl before slipping the decanter from my hand and taking a swig.
“Ah, so the angel does drink?”
“What do you mean? I just had wine with dinner.” His right brow lifts.
“Bordeaux is not a drink.” I snatch the bottle back. “This.” I shout, lifting the crystal over my head, liquor sloshing against the sides as I gaze at my only saving grace lovingly.“This is a fucking drink.”
“Okay, maybe we slow down a little, yeah?” He tries to take the bottle from my hand again, but I tug it out of his reach. He tries again, and I swiftly slip my gun from the holster concealed at the small of my back, resting it against his temple.
“I should kill you right here.” I narrow my eyes at him. All I see is red, all I feel is the dark storm brewing in my chest. And he looks so much like his father, the man that ruined our life.
What if I ended it right here? What if I took away someone that he loves too? It would only be fair, right?
“I don't know what's going on, but if you let me… I can listen.” He holds his hands up in surrender, eyes widening. “If you talk to me, maybe we can just work through what’s going on.”
His starlight eyes glisten with… understanding? Pity?
Isn’t that rich? I’m the one with the gun and Raffiel Arakelian pities me.
I should shoot that look off his stupid face—but I don't find myself doing that, something else wells up inside me—a need that wins out over the current war in my mind.
Gun still pressed to his head, the crystal bottle slips through my fingers just before I tug him down to my lips.
I don’t want to fucking talk. All I need is warm lips, a warm body to take away my pain. Filling the hole on my chest, stifling the noise in my head if only for a moment.
He stumbles backward, horror making a home on his face a second before shoving me away. “This is not…I’m not gay.” he says softly, the sweet scent of uncertainty lingering in the charged air between us.
But he doesn't move when I re-holster my gun, taking a step closer. “Of course you aren't,” I whisper against his lips, kissing him again.
He moans into my mouth this time, and just then a stroke of genius hits. But for research purposes, I test my theory, palming his cock and stroking him lightly through his expensive dress pants, my tongue coaxing him to let me in.
“Come on, angel baby,” I groan, grinning like an evil genius with a plan to take over the world. “Let me taste that pretty mouth.”
He melts into my touch. Easily relenting to my tongue slipping into his warm mouth, finding a rhythm with his eagerness.
“Slow down, baby boy.” I purr. “ This isn’t the Indy 500.”
I almost find myself feeling bad for what I'm going to do, because it's almost too damn easy. But I see now that death alone is far too good for Vahan—I want to fuck his empire from the inside out, and that starts with fucking his heir cross-eyed.
A man like Vahan would crumble at the thought of his son being anything but straight. So, I’ll fuck every one of his secrets out of his son before the final blow—ending them both.
“Boyssss.” I hear my mother’s voice flutter down the hall. “Is everything alright?”
Leaving Raffiel awestruck and rock hard on the balcony, I find my mother in the hall just before she breaks the corner, landing a kiss on her forehead.
“Mama, we were just getting some air.” I shoot a dazzling smile down at her. She looks only half relieved that I haven't killed him, but her eyes shift in search of Raffiel. “He'll be out in a second, he had a vulnerable moment but I talked him through it.”
She beams up at me, sea blue eyes filling with what look like tears that could bulldoze a fucking grand canyon sized hole through my plan. “Thank you for being so kind.”
Now, that was a shot to the heart.
Before I have time to give it much thought Raffiel comes stumbling out of my father’s office, still partially in a daze and epically failing to act normal.
“Hi…Hey… I mean… hello, Mrs. Dragomir.” he says, breathless. “Sorry, Alina.”
“Raffi.” My mother's voice pitches in concern as she rushes to his side, reaching up to place the back of her hand on his forehead. “You’re flushed, are you okay?”
“Mama, shhh,” I whisper, setting a finger against my lips, redirecting her away from his raging boner that she thankfully doesn’t notice. “He was having a hard time so I gave him a little drink. He’ll be fine, I just don't think his father would be happy about it so let’s not make it a big deal.”
“Okay.” She reaches up to pat my cheek, then nods. “Okay, let’s go back then. Vahan and I have something we want to tell you both.”
Ice runs cold through my veins, but I follow my mother through the house anyway until we make it back to the dining room, Raffiel trailing in behind us.
By the time we have a seat, he looks far better than in the hall. I guess his father’s curt nod is a boner assassin.
After we sit back down, continuing our meal as if the last fifteen minutes never happened, Vahan stands, taking my mother’s hand.
He glances down at my mother—just a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze—then tilts his head back to face the table as though we’re all actors in his grand design. His thumb brushes once, ever so lightly, over my mother’s knuckles.
“I think it’s time we shared our happy news,” he starts.
A growing pause draws every breath in the room into a single point as his gaze shifts from Raffi to me. My fork pauses an inch from my lips, and Raffi seems to freeze mid-cut.
His grip tightens on my mother’s hand—neither possessive nor aggressive, just irrevocably final. “We are getting married.”
The words land like a shot to the heart, and my ears ring so badly I might pass out. Raffiel’s fork hovers mid-air but Vahan’s expression remains almost serene—I catch the barest quiver of satisfaction in his stance.
My mother finally exhales, her smile wide and optimistic, as though she’s been holding her breath for years.
With the taste of my new stepbrother still on my tongue, I exhale, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”