Page 9 of Until I Own You

I lean toward the table, my eyes locked in hers.

Her smile grows. “Well? Is it a secret, Seth?”

Out of the corner of my eye, Solomon squirms in his seat. “You two, always with the arguing,” he mutters.

Solomon knows about my… inclinations. Though he isn’t in the lifestyle himself, he accepts that we all have needs, I am rather open about mine around everyone except my mother.

Thankfully, she’s not all that invested in the club scene, much prefers to keep to her own hobbies and hiking trips.

Solomon wants me to like him. Always has. So, as he says, this stays “between us guys.”

I’m an adult, a man with needs, and she doesn’t need to know of my need to always stay in control because life seems to find a way to elude accountability.

I throw out the first name that comes to mind. “Cal Ferrano.”

“Cal Ferrano.” She nods. “Isn’t he in Portugal, Dad?” Her eyes swing toward Solomon.

He shakes his head, looks into his lap. “Don’t ask me. I didn’t work today.”

“What is going on with you all? You’re acting funny,” my mom says.

“Yeah, I had a meeting with Cal Ferrano.” Who cares if he’s in Portugal? “Sonia was working, though, she must have been busy, right, Bridget? So, what were you doing while she was busy?”

Bridget’s mouth grows small, eyes darken. I withhold a laugh. How is it she manages to look adorable even when she’s serious? If she knew what that does to me, she wouldn’t pick a fight with me.

She looks back at the plate in front of her, pushing her food around like she is working on some kind of masterpiece. “Working on final details for the wedding.”

“Oh, the wedding. What kind of details?”

Bridget jerks forward. “Why do you need to know?”

I match her. “Just curious.”

We could go on like this all night if we had to. It’s a stalemate. I have a secret of hers and she has a secret of mine. If one of us reveals the other’s, it’s mutually assured destruction. Could be fun…

Except it’s not fun when our parents are the ones in the crossfire. I would do anything for my mother. And I know Bridget feels the same for her dad.

“Oh, my goodness, you two!” my mom cries out. “Can’t we ever just have a nice dinner without you two going at each other’s throats?” She shoves herself up from the table.

“Amelia –” Solomon calls to her.

She waves her hand. “I need some fresh air.”

Mom walks across the kitchen to the sliding glass doors into the garden.

We all watch in silence.

Once she’s outside and the door smacks closed behind her, Solomon sighs. “You guys…”

I shrug. “We’re just having a conversation, Sol.”

He looks at me. Defeated. “You know that’s not true.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Bridget says in a small voice. Docile and wanting to please. Would she be that way for me too?

Not the time.

I look at Solomon and then toward where my mother left.

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