Page 4 of Burn With Me

Why?Because I’ve put it off as long as I could, and now that school is starting next week, I’ve run out of excuses to avoid meeting her new husband.

“Oh, there he is!” My mother squeals and abandons me. Before said maître d’ can stop her, she runs through the restaurant like an unrestrained child. I’d use the opportunity to escape if I thought I could get away with it. Instead, I just check my phone for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. Still no response. He must be driving. Hopefully, that means he’s almost here.

Regretfully, I force myself to trail after my mother to where two men stand side by side. She fawns over the taller, older one of the two, going onto her already-heeled toes to kiss him. I can feel the bile threatening to shoot up my throat. Her lack of attention, however, gives me a moment to analyze the two of them myself.

Damien Icari is a man of massive size—a wide frame covered in a pin-striped suit with a silver tie at his throat and the shadow of a beard covering the lower half of his face. He pours all of his attention into my mother, his lips stretching into what looks like an ill-used smile. Anyone looking on would probably sigh with jealousy at how much attention he pays her, but even from the distance I’m at, it feels disingenuous. I shift my attention from him to the man at his side.

The second I do, however, something hits me deep in the chest. It’s not a physical blow, but something far more powerful. My gaze connects with his and lightning shoots through me. He’s just as tall as Damien, though not as broad, with cool-toned icy eyes that give him the appearance of visceral awareness as well as boredom. How that’s possible, I’m not sure. Still, I’m struck by a feeling of uncertainty, of being watched—like a mouse before a blue-eyed snake. I don’t like it at all.

“You must be the famous Aurora I’ve heard so much about.” Damien’s deep baritone makes me jump ever so slightly, and he moves forward, offering his hand. Even though I already don’t like the man, I appreciate the distraction.

I stare down at his open palm for a moment before reluctantly taking it. “I prefer Rori.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. “It’s nice to finally be introduced, Aurora.” I scowl as he ignores my words and says my full name. I knew there was going to be a reason I didn’t like him, I just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. I was quite ready to just be the asshole who simply hated her mother’s new husband simply because he was just another in a long line of men that had come before. “This is my son, Isaac.” Damien Icari releases my hand and gestures to the man that gave me that uncertain feeling.

My attention returns to the snake. Unlike his father, Isaac Icari has the look of a sun-kissed God rather than something from the underworld. Where his father’s hair has both the color and shine of ink and is slicked straight back, Isaac’s hair is golden with several various shades of blond and brown littered throughout the strands. It curls over his forehead in an almost casual shaggy sort of way. If my brother let his hair grow out at the sides, I have no doubt it’d look similar. Still … despite the warmth of his features, his eyes are a frost-covered wasteland. More so than I’ve ever seen before.

It makes me curious and curiosity is dangerous, especially in situations like this.

Isaac leans down and holds out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”Lie.He smiles, but it’s sharp at the edges.

I don’t take his hand, and instead, leave it hanging in the air.I don’t want to be here. Fuck this shit. I want out.

As if sensing my internal dialogue, my mother shoots me a warning glare. I release a pent-up sigh and reluctantly hold my hand out. He takes it, but instead of shaking it and letting it go as I expect, he holds it just long enough to be uncomfortable and my eyes jerk up to meet his once again.

“I look forward to our time together,” he says coolly, holding my attention captive.

My lips part in surprise. There’s no mistaking his words. The way he says them almost makes it sound like he’s threatening me, letting me know not to get too comfortable.

“Likewise,” I reply, adding an edge to my own tone. A warning. I don’t know what he expects from me, but if he thinks I’m like my mother—he’s in for a rude awakening, and I intend to make sure he knows that.

The second he releases me, I drop my hand and rub it against the fabric of my dress as if to wipe off the residual essence of him. I don’t like the way he continues to watch me—like a lion watching prey.

Where the fuck is Marcus?

Thankfully, that thought seems to make him materialize out of thin air because no sooner have I asked myself that question than my phone buzzes against my hip inside of the dangling black Hermés purse I’m carrying. A true smile crosses my lips.

“Shall we sit?” my mother asks, moving to the table.

“We’re waiting for one more person,” I announce with a smile, reaching into my bag and pulling out my phone just to be sure, but I don’t even have an opportunity to check the message because he’s already here.

And it’s so fucking worth it to see my mother’s face blanch a split second before she whips around and hisses my way. “Aurora Dawn Summers,” she growls, “you invitedhim?”

With a tight smile, I tilt my head to the side and slide my phone back into my purse with a shrug. “He is your son, Mom,” I state. “Don’t you want him to meet your newhusband?” Without waiting for an answer, I turn to the man in question. “I hope you don’t mind, but my brother will be joining us.” I make it clear from my tone that I truly could not give a shit less if he minds. It’s too late now, anyway.

Damien’s face morphs into a careful mask of affability, the kind I’ve seen dozens of times before. Every man she marries has one—the face they all wear when they’re being polite, but inside, they probably want to do something that would ruin their sparkling reputation.

That’s right,I silently tell him.Keep that mask on, buddy. We’ll see just how long you can last.

“I thought we talked about this,” my mother says in a horrified whisper, panicking. “I wanted to wait until after—Marcus! Sweetheart!” She cuts herself off mid-tirade and plasters on a bright smile, moving quicker than her words as she abandons her new man in favor of greeting my brother.

Marcus frowns at her approach but doesn’t immediately throw our mother off, instead returning her hug with a small pat. “Mom,” he says cordially.

“It’ssogood to see you,” she gushes before shooting me another scathing glare. “I wish I would’ve known you were coming.”

Marcus looks my way with amusement, and I shrug noncommittally. He shakes his head, one corner of his mouth twitching as he pushes her back. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he says. “Have you already ordered?”

“No, of course not.” I bite my lip to keep from laughing as my mother, in a rare moment of awkwardness, takes a step back, away from my brother, and glances from the table to Marcus as if she’s trying to think of the best way to approach the new situation before her while also keeping up the facade of a loving, caring mother in front of her new man.

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