Page 113 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

See, I can control my emotions.

Unlike this asshole right now.

I poke him on the side. “What are you doing?”

But he ignores me — Surprise, surprise.

Mr. Rogers’s eyes flicker between him and me as if he’s calculating what is happening between us.

“Briar,” Mr. Rogers says slowly. “He’s not the one who…” He trails off, raising a brow at me as if to ask, “He’s not the one who gave you the bruises, right?”

I quickly shake my head. “No, this is Rurik. He’s my…” Fuck, what is he? We’re not friends. We’re not even fuck buddies yet. “He’s friends with Nat and Oscar.”

“I know who he is. But if he’s —”

“With all due respect, sir. But if you take one more step closer to her, I will not hesitate to give you the same bruises I see on her face.” Rurik growls, his voice low and deep.

In order words: Sexy.

He sounds sexy as fuck, and I just want to find the nearest empty room — or bathroom — and go down on him. Am I crazy? Is that normal? I think so…

Mr. Rogers’s eyes widen. “What?”

And then it suddenly smacks me in the face.

Fuck… If both Mr. Rogers and Rurik can see the bruises I thought I paid so much money to cover up, then everyone can see how disgusting I look right now.

I step back from them, my eyes darting everywhere to find the nearest bathroom. But before I can do that, I have to set the record straight.

“It’s not him,” I whisper to Rurik, touching his elbow. “He’s like my dad. He would have never done this to me.” But Rurik isn’t showing signs of backing off. I groan, “Angel.”

That grabs his attention as his eyes flicker over to mine. His gaze darts all over my face and lingers at my lips. I’m assuming the cut above the cut is still visible.

Freaking great. I’m so going to leave a bad review online.

Mr. Rogers chuckles suddenly, causing us both to look at him. He is now full-on grinning, his eyes glancing between us knowingly.

“While I don’t appreciate being threatened at my daughter’s wedding,” He smirks. “I appreciate how far you’re willing to go to protect my other daughter.”

Rurik blinks and frowns. Then, realization comes crashing in, and he pales, staring up at him. “Shit.”

Mr. Rogers’s grin turns wicked.

“Shit. Sir, I apologize,” Rurik gulps. “I was watching you two, and I saw her crying, then I saw the bruises, and—”

He stops when Mr. Rogers lifts his hand to silence him.

“I understand,” He says with a sigh. He glances at me quickly before shrugging. “If I can’t get her to talk, maybe you can.” He leans down to kiss my head and nods at us both. “Enjoy the wedding.”

As soon as he walks off, I whirl around to face Rurik with my hands on my hips. “What the hell was that, Rurik?”

But he just glares at me. He nods toward my face and says, “What happened?”

I falter, “What?”

But Rurik isn’t having it. “Who fucking did that to you, Briar?”

I stare at him, torn between wanting to scream for joy that he cares enough to ask and feeling pissed off that he ignored me for days only to adopt this stupid savior complex suddenly.

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