Cruel : Stepbrother Billionaire Romance Read Free Page B

unmistakable; he had on some elegant and probably expensive, exotic cologne, but behind it was a darker note. A note that lit a sense memory. It revived thoughts and feelings that I knew I shouldn’t have had at the time. But I loved them and I wanted them then. And I wanted them still.  

    His head cocked a little to one side. He’d asked me a question. I’d forgotten. I realized that he was still holding the tray.

    “Yes,” I told him, “It’s my sandwich.”

    He set the tray down. My eyes didn’t leave his as he bent with the tray. The waiter clearly wanted his tray back but he couldn’t find the nerve to ask Balthazar to return it. He bobbed his head uncertainly. Balthazar showed no sign of noticing. The waiter shuffled away, trayless and dejected.

    “Aren’t you going to eat it?”

    “While you stand there and watch me?”

    “I’ve watched you eat before. I never noticed it troubling you.”

    “I seem to have lost my appetite.”

    “Oh. I put you off your food?”

    No! I wanted to shout at him but I held back. I said, “I’m very surprised to see you, that’s all.”

    “Likewise.” My stomach curled at the sound of his voice.

    I said, “Are you going to just stand there?”

    “Until you invite me to sit, of course.” His manners were much more polished. He had reinvented himself. That same spirit burned from his eyes but he had a kind of an assured confidence, a new certainty.  

    I told him, “Then, it’s my pleasure.” Try to match him. I didn’t feel like I succeeded. “Won’t you please join me?” My voice trembled as I waved my hand to the chair, and my hand shook.

    He hitched the knees of his gorgeous suit and his lithe, athletic frame settled into the seat. He laid his phone on the table with his hand on top of it.

    He sat in front of me with his thighs spread, like he had when he was a teenager. The bulge was prominent, high and strong. He made no attempt to hide it.

    Finally he said, “It’s been a long time, Sis.” My stomach flipped again when he said ‘Sis.’

    I said, “You didn’t exactly keep in close touch.”

    “With the family?” His lip curled.

    “With me.” I was aware of sounding pouty. I hated that.

    “It was partly because of you that I left.” It was like a slap in the face.

    “I always knew you hated me.” Now I really did sound whiny and hard done by. Suddenly the whole of the day, my professor, the prospect of flunking college, the yawning sense of failure, everything threatened to well up behind my eyes. I held my breath, but still my chest shuddered.

    “I never hated you.” A breeze blew my hair into my face. He reached over to brush it away. I knew that it couldn’t stand it if he did. I would collapse. More than anything, I didn’t want to go to pieces in front of him.  

    As his hand approached my face, I seized his wrist to stop him. I misjudged and I used a little too much force so I smacked against the inside of his wrist. But when my skin came in touch with his, it was like all the lights went on in a huge room inside me with a great whump .

    He looked at me as I held his wrist.

    “Nobody else would dare to do that. You know that, Sis?”

    It didn’t matter how hard I peered at his sunglasses, I couldn’t see his eyes behind them. My mouth tightened. “You said you left because of me.”

    “I did. Not because I hated you, though.” His lip twitched. His fingers drummed on his phone.

    His voice was flat as he rose. “Enjoy your sandwich.”

    “Yeah,” I said stiffly. “Keep in touch.”

    There was a sharpness when he said, “Like you did?”

    “You mean like you did.”

    “I left my phone numbers, Facebook, email. You had plenty of ways to be in contact.”

    “Likewise, Ba…” I stopped myself. Even now, I wouldn’t break that trust.

    The deck rumbled as he left me with the sandwich I could hardly afford, and now, almost certainly couldn’t bring myself to eat. As I glanced at the plate,