Page 31 of Darling Obsession
“I don’t know you.” His switchblade eyes sweep over me. “But I doubt it.”
Yeah.Me, too.“What does she look like?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he says tightly, “Black hair. Green eyes.”
“Is she beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“How long were you lovers?”
His jaw does that clenching thing, and I can tell he’s impatient with the questions. “A while.”
I try to imagine her, dark and sensuous and utterly lovely.Darla.I imagine her getting fucked by the infernal creature in front of me and my mouth goes dry. “What a lucky woman.”
Shit.Pretty sure I said that out loud.
Yup. Definitely.
Harlan studies me, tilting his head slightly like I might make more sense to him that way.
Maybe he thinks I’m being sarcastic.
Wish I was.
“Uh, let’s see.” My cheeks are flaming, and I struggle for a topic change. “You already know I work at a bakery,” I offer, filling the tense silence. “And I have my own little cake design business on the side, with my mom. I make celebration cakes, and she makes cupcakes. Like for weddings, baby showers, birthdays. Engagements. Reunions. Mitzvahs?—”
“I get it,” he growls.
Why does he look like he’s reacting allergically to that list? Does he have something against celebrations?
“So… if you ever need a cake, you know who to call.”
“I already told you. We won’t be seeing each other after this.”
We have another brief staring contest, which he seems to win.
“Right. Well, what else can I tell you? I live with my mom. I never bought a pair of shoes for more than fifty bucks before today, and I have a pretty serious addiction to salted caramel.”
He looks confused. “Salted caramelwhat?”
“Anything.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” He seems both suspicious and annoyed.
“I thought you might want to know me? At least a bit. Like, learn a few details about me to make our connection seem more genuine?”
“I don’t need to know you,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “I told you, it’s just a dinner. I’ll introduce you as Darla. We’ve been seeing each other on and off for a while. You like me oryou don’t. It doesn’t matter. You can be as vague about our relationship as you want. I’ve always been.”
“Oh. Okay…”
“Just answer their questions, be polite, and that’s it. Then you won’t ever have to see them again,” he says, reminding me that I’m little more than a prop, stage dressing for the lie he’s about to tell.
The doorbell rings, and he orders, “Wait here while I bring them in.”
When he leaves, I take a deep breath.
I don’t know why I find him so attractive. Yes, he’s handsome, and he looks hotter than hell in a suit.
