A monster
Bryson pressed his palms against his thighs, trying to silence Regan’s voice echoing in his skull. After what had happened with Seth and Kaydon this afternoon, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. He wasn’t stable enough for this—for them. His fingers curled into fists. He needed to speak with Adria, make her understand that Seth and Kaydon belonged with her now, not with whatever broken thing he was becoming.
“Welcome, guests,” a baritone voice said.
A tall man with silver-streaked hair entered from the back of the room, his tailored linen suit flowing as he moved.
Vega.
He surveyed them all with practiced charm before focusing on Adria. Taking her hand, he bowed slightly. “Adria, I presume,” he said, brushing his lips against her knuckles.
Adria rose and dipped into a graceful curtsy.
“Vega, we want to thank you for your hospitality in taking us in. We will try to keep our stay brief.”
Vega’s eyes flashed in Bryson’s direction before saying, “No, please stay. I enjoy the company.”
“Thank you, we appreciate it,” Adria said.
“Drinks!” Vega exclaimed. His eyes took on a slight manic glint as he snapped his fingers. Dario moved to the bar and took turns taking the group’s orders.
Vega sat near Adria, having a quiet conversation, and Elena sat on the armrest near Bryson. “You three were MIA for the afternoon,” she said.
Bryson glanced at Kaydon and Seth. “We needed some time to regroup.”
And Seth snorted into his glass. Elena rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that’s exactly what you three were doing.”
The evening flowed into easy conversation until a chime announced dinner.
If Bryson thought the sitting room was expansive, the dining room was even more luxurious. At Bryson’s home, his family, when he had one, rarely ate together. And even if they had, it would have been a table set for five.
Vega’s table could have easily sat twenty. Each of them found their chair, next to an ornate set of blue place settings. Adria,Eric, Vega, and Elena on one side, and Kaydon, Seth, and Bryson on the other. Elena’s two bodyguards must have been eating with the staff.
Bryson looked to his right and noticed an extra place setting.
“My daughter Daniela will be here momentarily,” Vega said.
And as if on cue, a dark-haired female entered at the head of the table. Bryson had to concentrate on not choking on his drink.
Daniela wore almost nothing. The white shirt covered half her torso, and the fabric struggled to hold in her large breasts. The jean shorts, if you could call them that, were more like underwear. Her dark hair went down to her waist, and she took in the room like a predator assessing their prey before zeroing in on Bryson.
Bryson felt himself swallowing hard as her curvy hips undulated back and forth, making her way to him.
She was young, most likely in her late twenties, like him. Beautiful in her own right, but Bryson didn’t feel attraction. Instead, he just felt uncomfortable sitting next to a half-naked heiress.
“Daniela, say hello to our guests,” Vega said.
Daniela turned her face to Bryson, her full lips coming dangerously close to his, and she gave him a crooked smile. “Daniela.”
She leaned in closer, and Bryson leaned back instinctively. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” she said, clacking her teeth together inches from his nose. “Hard.”
Bryson blinked. He had no idea what to make of her. Or her behavior.
Eric cleared his throat across the table, drawing the young girl’s attention, and Bryson was grateful for the distraction.
Daniela narrowed her gaze and said, “Who invited the GI Joe?”
“Daniela,” Vega snapped, “no seas maleducada.”
