Page 17 of Wrath
That man was a short-assed dick, but like she’d said, none of his business.
He swiped the W away. With all the self-control he could muster, he carefully retrieved the dustpan gently from her grip. It still felt like a forceful snatch, but at least he didn’t break it. Continuing the sweeping, he only lasted a few seconds with the pressure of her watchful gaze on him, and then the dustpan broke.
His only conclusion was that it was her fault. Her presence did things to him, made his blood boil in frustration, in… lust.
Misha attempted to remove a towel from his chopping board, so he stabbed his knife, pinning the fabric to the surface. She’d squealed and jumped, but still no angry retort. The woman had the patience of a Zen master.
Alek walked in at that moment, as though he’d been watching at the door, waiting for an opening. He signed a greeting to Wyatt and continued to help with the meal prep.
Because he knew it would annoy Her Royal Duchess-Self, Wyatt spent the rest of the morning being obtuse.
If she addressed him as anything other than Chef, he ignored her. If she replied to his requests with “Yes, Chef” then he rewarded her with a few minutes of attention about the kopitka, but then went back to doing things his way. It annoyed the living daylights out of her, and he was pleased to see the Duchess re-emerged once or twice.
After lunch, Roksana came in and leaned on the kitchen bench with her elbows, head on her palms, watching Wyatt with a secretive smile.
“Ooh, is this a staring competition?” Misha joined her to stare at Wyatt. “You know I’ll win.”
It’s only a competition if he played, and Wyatt ignored both of them. He considered stabbing something nearby, but managed to squash that urge and continued with cleanup. After a few minutes, Roksana said, “Someone is here to see you,Chef.”
He looked up.Bullshit.
No one knew he was there.
But she had a dreamy look on her face. With each of her following words, Wyatt’s tension worsened. “He’s totally buff, like you. He’s got all this cute, sexy messy hair. And—” She peeked at Misha. “He’s got tatts all over him. Totes badass. Maybe he’s a biker dude or something. Maybe Chef was in a gang.”
That persistent little—he bit the curse off, because he felt no anger toward Evan anymore. Only guilt and shame occupied that space. If it weren’t for his little brother’s persistence, Wyatt and their entire family would still have that Syndicate mole living in their house… in his fucking bed.
“Ooh.” Misha turned to Roksana. “Do tell.”
“He said he’s Chef’s brother.”
“No shit!”
“He asked for Wyatt Lazarus. Said Wyatt’s got black hair, an attitude, and thinks he’s scarier than he really is. Sounds a lot like you, Chef… or should I say, Wyatt.”
Wyatt shrugged and shook his head.Justact like you don’t know who it is. Eventually, they’ll go away.
Too late. Recognition plastered Misha’s face. “You’re right. They do look similar.”
She raced out the front. Wyatt could hear her squeal of excitement filter back into the kitchen.
Wait.They looked similar?How the hell would she know? Did she know Evan?
Buried feelings rushed to the surface. Even after all these months, jealousy and denial still burned in his blood. He knew it was ridiculous. Evan had never had an affair with Sara. It had been all lies. So why was his gut churning with the same torn up emotions?
Wyatt tried to resist heading out into the restaurant, but his curiosity got the better of him. He dumped the rag, untied his apron, and went out.
Eight
Decoratedwith red walls and elm hardwood trim, the dining room stretched long and narrow through the small commercial block. White table cloths, more wood paneling on the walls, brown leather sofas near the rear. Simple orange flower arrangements scattered everywhere. The smell of cedar and spice permeated the air. It was like Fall vomited in the room. And there, at the back, sitting on a dinky round table for two, was his youngest brother. Same overgrown haircut, a few more scribbles inked on his used-to-be-blank left arm, looking smug and so sure of himself.
He should be. He was the first to find his soul mate and unlock his powers. The little fucker could electrocute Wyatt where he stood.
Things had been strained between them for years and when Wyatt had learned all the bullshit Evan had been peddling about Sara was true, the strain had pulled tighter. Wyatt hated being wrong. When he’d left the family a few months ago, he had good intentions. He’d wanted to be a better brother—the one he used to be, the one who stood up for Evan when he was bullied in the playground as children, the one who growled away the monsters under the bed—but anger and pride had swallowed him whole.
Something clicked inside Wyatt. He wasn’t sure if it happened because of his proximity to the woman now speaking with Evan, or if it was just time for him to accept… but he’d never be able to outrun his demons, he knew that now. His family would never let him get far.
Misha stood next to the table, hip cocked to the side, talking with an animated expression on her face. Her infectious enthusiasm made him want to feel the same excitement. Wyatt wondered if she did anything boring. Life in her orbit would be fun.
