“Ah…of course, Sugarplum,” he responds, dragging his eyes off those gargantuan tits and moving to stand beside us. His eyes meet mine for a moment, probably because this is the first time I’ve ever addressed him this way. “Darling” felt foreign on my lips.
But Sugarplum? Jesus, help me.
I think I prefer Buttercup.
Roy reaches for my hand and threads sweaty fingers through mine. I’m overwhelmed by the urge to gag again. It doesn’t distract me enough to miss Raoul’s expression change, though. Silver eyes narrow, and something flickers in their depths.
“You know how I hate it when you’re so far away,” I say, smiling far too broadly. Roy slides an arm around my waist and pulls me up against him.
Don’t puke. Don’t puke.
“We’re having something of a celebration tonight, Caraldi,” the senator says. “This little lady here has finally agreed to be my bride. Isn’t that right, Sugarplum?”
I’m still smiling, though I’m sure it looks like something you’d see on a corpse that’s been dead for a month.
“Mmhmm,” I manage to get out. Yip, there’s definitely more than a flicker in those eyes. I see his jaw clench.
Really? You have to be kidding!
I imagine his poor wife sitting at home while he’s out surrounded by tarts who look like they charge an hourly fee for their company. While he’s still eyeballing me.
What a dick!
“Congratulations, Senator,” he bites out. I half expect him to spit on the floor. “A perfect match. I’m sure you will be very happy together.”
I don’t know what he’s implying, but I get the feeling it’s not a compliment.
When one of the girls shimmies up beside him and slips an arm around his waist beneath his tuxedo jacket, he doesn’t acknowledge her. But for some reason, it makes me want to charge forward and claw her stupid eyes out.
What would his poor wife be thinking?
I feel sorry for the woman. That’s why I feel this way. That’s it entirely. Not to mention that I have his child growing inside me right this minute.
Oh, my fuck!
It hits me all over again, and unwittingly, I cling to Roy to stop my knees from buckling.
“Still feeling out of sorts, Honeybunch?” the senator says.
Honeybunch?
Jesus, at least let him pick one vomit-inducing endearment and stick with it. He smirks at me, his hand sliding over my ass.
“Where the fuck is the idiot with that chair for her?” my father snarls, remembering why he’d been causing the scene earlier.
“Never mind, Tommy, old boy. I’m happy to keep our girl on her feet. Unless she’d rather be on her back,” Roy sniggers. He gropes my ass unashamedly, and I fight the urge to slap his hand away.
Raoul’s eyes flicker down and then lock with mine again. There’s still venom in them.
Why? Why the fuck would he be pissed atmeright now? He’s the one who spent an entire night getting his rocks off with me – a girl half his age – when he was married.
Filthy fucker.
Okay…maybe I’m not half his age. But still, there’s an obvious age gap.
God, why does that make him more appealing?
Maybe because it’s given him years of experience at making a girl’s toes curl? Holy shit! The things he did to me…
