Page 7 of The Tempted
“Still, there has to be a reason you don’t trust him,” I probed.
“People usually flock to the girls because of who Victor is. It’s a shitty thing to say, but it’s the truth,” his jaw ticked. I could tell he was about to tell me something but stopped himself just in time. He shook his head, dismissing any thoughts that he was about to speak of. “Anyway, this kid wants nothing to do with Victor. He doesn’t even bother with him.”
I drew my eyebrows together in confusion.
“Isn’t that a good thing then? I mean he’s with her for her and not with her because of daddy dearest.”
Anthony shook his head not buying my theory and for the first time since our little reunion, I felt like we are having a civilized conversation. It felt like two friends catching up and not trying to resent one another. “Trust me, something isn’t right with him.”
I settled back against the seat remaining silent for a few moments as I digested what he said about Nikki. I felt his eyes on me but didn’t turn to face him.
“You’ll see for yourself,” he said, peering at me from the corner of his eye.
“Does Victor agree with you?”
It bothered me that I asked because I had schooled myself not to give a damn about Victor or what he thought about anything. Yet for some reason where Nikki was concerned, I forgot that Victor was my enemy.
“Like I said he doesn’t speak much about it, but I think he’s wary of him,” he cocked his head to the side in deep thought. I watched him for a few moments wondering what was going through his head. It was a losing battle trying to figure him out, especially when my head was a jumbled mess. I promised myself that I would keep a close eye on Nikki’s boyfriend and come to my own conclusions concerning him.
We passed another sign that informed us New York is now 38 miles away. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the headrest. I found myself trying to picture what Nikki looks like all grown up. I tried to picture her smile, sans her braces. Does she still wear her hair pulled back in a braid? Is her voice still on the whiny side? I labeled myself a pervert when I began to wonder what her measurements were molding her in my head to have a tiny waist, hips to hold onto and a rack to bury my face in. In my sick head, she has no face though because all I see is the little girl with braces smiling up at me with a body to die for. Yeah, I’m a twisted fuck.
