Page 2 of Red Velvet

And I'm here to receive your cruel and loving bites.

Chapter 1

Kade

This is fucking ridiculous.

I roll my eyes at the pathetic display in front of me. Two fools swooning like brainless teenagers as they clink glasses in front of a bewitched crowd. Their eyes are sealed on each other, evoking the question of whether they even need the audience gathered around them.

I hate weddings. Always have, always will.

Tying yourself to a single person like that has always baffled me. Why would anyone subject themselves to the horrors of never-ending boredom that comes with such a lasting tie?

Because let me tell you, that boredom will come. Always and for everyone. We're not made for this—none of us are. Even those two idiots up there must know that. But just like many, many others, they are experts at lying to themselves. They choose to close their eyes to the truth, only gawking at the flashing lie in front of them and all the promises that come with it. Promises that are impossible to keep.

But who cares about that, right?

The party crowd is still going wild with applause and cheers by the time I've finished my glass of champagne. The second of the day—or was it the third?

Do I care?

Not really.

I can't feel the soothing effect of the alcohol yet. My pulse is still racing, my shoulders tense with the discomfort that's been hugging me ever since I stepped inside the venue.

I don't want to be here. Everything inside me is revolting against it. And Ishouldn'tbe here, either. My name wasn’t on the invitation. It was sent to my father, because he's a business associate of the groom. He was the one they wanted to be their guest, him or my brother. They wanted anyone but me. I'm just a placeholder, a man with the right last name but the wrong face.

I glance at my wrist, wondering if I can leave already. But the reception started less than an hour ago, and I was told to stay for at least two. As if anyone cares. I, for one, can think of a billion things I'd rather be doing right now.

Admittedly, there's some eye candy here. Dolled-up girls in evening gowns strut around left and right, just waiting to be the next one who gets to wear a dress in white.

But I'm not the man who will give them that.

One of them caught my eye earlier. The maid of honor. Blonde and slim, with bright skin and equally bright eyes that never locked onto anything or anyone for too long. She looked lost standing next to the bride, who is her sister, I believe. Moving like her sister's shadow, her gaze remained absent, pensive and somber in a way that attracts the fucking hell out of me.

Of course my eyes would fall on someone like her, someone off-limits and unattainable. Someone who looks like she’s never been touched before.

I haven't seen her around for a while now, and that's probably for the better.

Emptying another glass of champagne, I scan the room with no specified goal. I don't know anybody here, and no one knows me. It doesn't surprise me, given the fact that I've hardly been around in recent years. Not only have I never been involved in my father's business, but I've also avoided my family's social functions to the best of my ability, simply by being out of the country. France, Germany, the Netherlands—my trust fund allowed for an abundance of travel. And even if those trips came along with work, they were mostly for pleasure, and to get out of my family's reach.

I wish I was across the pond right now.

When I introduced myself, I received nothing but confused gazes that quickly changed to understanding once they focused on my last name. Then they smiled, shook my unfamiliar hand and told me to give my father their regards. And then they were gone and I went to the next person, repeating the play I was instructed to follow tonight.

That's all I had to do. Be present, drop my family's name, congratulate the happy couple and let those who matter know my family cares about their union.

We don't. I'm pretty sure my father and my older brother care as little as I do, which is why they were conveniently busy and unable to attend this mundane event. My family and the family of the groom aren't close at all, not on a personal level as far as I know.

What was his name again?I glance over to one of the tables next to the buffet where the numerous gifts are gathered. One of the greeting cards attached to a present tells me what I want to know: To the happy couple—Mr. and Mrs. Damon Graves.

Graves, right, that was the name. My father mentioned him a few times. He's one of the most well-known investors in the area, a clever prodigy—except for that one time when he got screwed over by a young fraud. Coincidentally, that happened during the exact time he started dating his bride.

That just shows how poisonous a woman can be to a man. They have the ability to weaken everything a man prides himself in.

And I can see how the young Mrs. Graves could hold such power over a man like Damon. She's a beauty for sure, blonde, tall and slender, with ethereal looks that catch the eye.

Just like her sister, who won't fucking leave my head.

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