Page 66 of Ruthless God

Her heel mushes my loafer, and I lean down, whispering in her ear, “You’re going to be punished for having dinner with another man.”

She digs her heel into my loafer harder, and I bite down on my lip from the pain. When I glance at Carter, his smiles deflates, and when my gaze veers to the other two women at the table, they blush.

The waitress places a bowl in the center of the table. I grab the warm buttery bread, tear a piece, and feed it to Lyrical as she glares at me.

“Are you Revi ‘Snow’ Williams?” one of the women asks.

She’s wearing a minidress with her tits barely covered up, so I’m assuming she’s using her body to get what she wants.

I spot Lyrical eyeballing the one who asked me the question.

“In the flesh.”

“Can we get a picture of y—”

“Hell no,” Lyrical snaps. “If you want a picture of him, you need to look online.”

Jealousy looks good on her. I actually love it.

“Not right now,” I say. “You’re not wearing your engagement ring, Blue.”

She hid her engagement ring and I looked everywhere for it. She’s going to admit she’s my fiancée sooner rather than later.

“You give me back my sketchbook, and only then I’ll wear my ring,” she whispers in my ear. “Excuse us,” Lyrical says to the rest of the table, tugging on my arm. I follow her outside of the restaurant as people casually scroll along the sidewalk, the streetlamps illuminating the pavement. “How did you find me?”

I grab her phone from my back pocket and hand it to her. “You forgot this.”

She folds her arms across her chest, pushing up her breasts. “I didn’t forget it, I knew you would act crazy if you knew I was having dinner with another man, so I didn’t want you to read into it.”

I did a background check on Professor Carter. He likes them young—college age young. I had Jameson hack into his personal laptop, and he has endless footage of himself fucking different college-aged women.

“You don’t think it’s odd that he only invited girls to this dinner?”

“No, they are all in my art class, and Professor Carter is married and has a child. He wouldn’t hit on me.”

Yeah, I don’t believe it. He’s looking for his next victim. And he’s not married—not according to the background check. He’s not in a relationship with anyone else, nor does he have a child.

“If you’re going to sit with me, shut up and don’t ruin this for me. I need my art in this gallery.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t want to use my connections or your parents’.”

She places her hands on her hips. “Because my identity is not going to be tied to you or our families. I want people to actually love my artwork.”

I get what she says. She wants her own identity.

“Behave, Snow. Please, for the love of God, don’t threaten him. Or try to harm him.”

“No promises.”

“Ugh.”

I follow her back to the table, sitting between her and Professor Carter, and pull Lyrical so close to me that she’s damn near on my lap. She looks animated, telling him why she wants a spot in the gallery so bad.

It pisses me off the way he keeps looking at my fiancée’s breasts.

I ball my fists under the table.

I have to behave; I can’t cut his head off with a bunch of witnesses around.

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