Page 5 of Burn With Me

Checkmate, Mom,I think snidely.You want to throw me into this? Well, I’m not coming alone.I’ve always got the big guns on speed dial, and even though I don’t particularly like to ask my brother for favors, he’s got my back. And for something like this, I fucking needed it.

Damien takes this as his opportunity and slides a hand around my mother’s waist as he reaches out, holding out his other hand for Marcus to take. “It’s wonderful to meet Emilia’s son,” he begins. “I’m Damien.”

“Yes,” Marcus returns the handshake with a hard look. “So, I’ve heard.” That’s it. No other comment. No other polite greeting. This is going to be the longest lunch in history, but thank fuck, I’m not facing it alone.

I snort a little to myself as I leave the group to take my seat. If I try to off myself with the restaurant’s butter knife, there will be at least one person at the meeting who might try to stop me. Funny … but it doesn’t make me want to do it any less, though.

Thirty minutes into the lunch and I’m ready to blow my brains out all over the eggshell tablecloth and fine china. I’m intimately aware of the underlying tension around the table, slowly but surely rising toward the surface.

“So, Marcus, what’s your major?” Damien is doing his damnedest to appear as wholesome as my mother apparently thinks he is. I’m thankful, too, that I asked Marcus to come because now the new husband is putting the brunt of his questions on the luncheon’s unexpected guest.

“International business,” Marcus replies as he reaches forward and takes a sip from his glass.

“How interesting; my son is in the same department,” Damien replies.

Isaac says nothing. Neither do Marcus nor I, for that matter.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you two became friends?” Mom says, her voice tight with hope. “After all, we’re a family now.”

My eyeball twitches.Family? Yeah, right.Fat chance of that happening.Does she really think that another attempt at shoving strangers together and getting them to play nice will make this family of hers come to life?My stomach churns as I stare down at the remains of the fancy chicken alfredo and it blurs in front of my vision. I drop my fork onto my plate and sit back, waiting for this horrible luncheon to end.

“Of course we are, darling,” Damien replies, though with each passing minute, his expression becomes tighter and tighter. Almost like he expected a different outcome and is now pissed that things aren’t playing out the way he predicted.

A slow smile curves my lips.

Good. I hope he realizes just how futile this whole thing is. It’ll end that much quicker once he does.

Silence descends upon the table—the only sound coming from the still-clinking forks between the men and my mother’s glass as she finishes off what has to be her third Chardonnay in the last half hour. She’s left the wino and lush labels far behind and has quickly ushered her way straight into manic alcoholism.

Damien sets his fork and knife down on either side of his plate, drawing my attention as he sits up straight and turns his gaze to me. Oh no. Something sinister crawls up my throat. His responding smile is almost … knowing. As if he’s well aware that I don’t like or trust him, and he thinks there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Actually, the reason I wanted your mother to ask you here today,” he begins, reaching over to take her hand, “is that I wanted to give you a gift.”

Alarms sound in my mind. Warning signals. Bright, flashing neon lights. All of it urging me to get up and find a fucking exit. My back stiffens and I cut a look to Marcus out of the corner of my eyes. He’s watching Damien like a careful tiger, curious, but cautious.

“I’m sure she’ll love it,” my mother gushes, and if my mother thinks that, then I can guarantee I won’t.

“What is it?” I ask.

Damien reaches into the inner pocket of his suit coat and pulls out an envelope.Money.I almost lose control of myself and roll my eyes. I feel my brother soften at my side. I don’t want Damien Icari’s money as I’m sure it’s nothing but a way to try and ingratiate himself to me, but when he holds it out, I take it nonetheless. Maybe I can pass it off to his son or just leave it on the table for the waitress. If it’s just cash, though, it’s certainly something I can forget.

Doesn’t matter if it’s a hundred or a couple of thousand in this envelope. Anything he gives me probably has strings attached and I don’t do strings.Ever.

“Open it,” he insists when I go to place it under my napkin.

I blink when something jingles inside of it—something that definitely isn’t paper—and confusion takes over. I feel every eye at the table on me as I slip my thumbnail into one sealed edge and rip it open. The slight weight inside slides down into my palm the second I turn the envelope and a pair of what looks like house keys as well as an elevator keycard slip into my waiting hand.

I stare down at the offering, thoroughly perplexed. “Uhhhh … thanks?”

“Isn’t it wonderful!” my mother exclaims. “Now you can be near us.”

“Near … you?” I repeat.

“It’s the key to your own penthouse suite at Hotel Theós, one of my businesses. Well, virtually your own place,” Damien says. “Your mother and I will be on the top floor after we get back from the honeymoon, but Isaac is rarely home and—”

I hold my hand up, interrupting him. “Wait, hold on a second,” I snap. “What the hell are you talking about?” A dark look falls over his face, but I ignore it in favor of turning to my mother. I couldn’t care less if he doesn’t like being cut off.

“It’s a key,” my mother says stupidly, as if I can’t fucking see what’s right in front of me.

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