Page 9 of Tempting God

My flats hit the tiled floor as I hurry away from that infuriating man. I’m almost to the door when he grabs my hand, pulling me to a stop.

“Have I made you mad?”

“Yes, you have.” I push a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Maybe you should make sure a room is empty before you decide to talk about someone. And definitely make sure the person you’re callously speaking about isn’t there!”

His eyes widen in horror, but I don’t wait to hear what he’s going to say. Heck, he’s probably not going to say anything. Men like Grant never apologize because that would mean they were wrong.

I reach the ballroom just as people are lining up to go to the dining room. Grandfather is at the front of the line with Charles and Aimée at his side. Part of me wants to go stand next to him just in case Grant Carter ends up behind me in line. But, my god, I don’t think I can stomach sitting next to Aimée for an entire meal. Not when I know she’ll make some kind of comment about my weight. Mother and Dad are right behind them. Yeah, definitely not going up there.

The line moves, but my luck is short-lived when Grant falls in line behind me.

“Ms. Blanc, I’d like to apologize for what you overheard.”

I glance at him and say, “For what I overheard, but not for what you said. How very typical.”

“I’m not sorry for what I said.”

Hurt cuts through me, and I choose not to respond.

He’s not worth my time or breath.

In the dining room, people sit. I already know I’m going to sit at the end of the table, near the door. Far, far, far away from Mother.

Taking my seat, I try not to watch where Grant goes. My stomach drops when he sits next to me.

“Looks like we’re dinner mates.”

How is this happening?

I’m saved from another reply when a tall man sits across from me. My cheeks feel warm as I reach for my water. Alessandro Moretti also known as the Violent God. All the men in the Defiant God Brotherhood have nicknames, and Alessandro got his because of what he does for the Brotherhood. Not just the Brotherhood. For our family, too. He saved Grandfather. For that, I will always be indebted to him, violent or not.

He smiles at me. “Greer.”

“Mr. Moretti.”

“I told you, Greer, please, call me Alessandro. Mr. Moretti makes me feel so old.”

I know my cheeks are red…I can feel the heat, but Alessandro doesn’t call attention to my awkwardness.

Grant Carter, on the other hand, doesn’t have the same issues.

He says in a low tone, “He’s awfully old for you, Little Fae.”

Hearing the nickname is like icy water being doused over me.

I glare. “Too old to sit across from me for dinner?”

“Yes.” He looks around. “Though I don’t see a table for the children…”

I wonder how much trouble I’d get in if I hit him?

Alessandro must be oblivious to what’s happening on my side of the table because he asks Grant, “How’s the new job?”

“I was recently promoted. Haven’t you heard?”

“Can’t say that I have.” He lifts his tumbler, tilting it toward Grant. “Cheers.”

Grant is almost smirking as he lifts his glass, too. Ugh. I cannot stand this man. That’s why I feel zero regret or remorse when I elbow him in the side, making him sputter into his drink.

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