Page 111 of Dirty Husband
The happy family brimming with love—
That's far beyond my comprehension.
"I'm afraid I need to borrow my fiancée." My fingers curl around her wrist. It's tighter than it should be. Too obviously possessive.
But no one seems to mind. If anything, Jasmine's aunts approve. They whisper something else. I don't have a clue what they're saying. Only that their tone is positive.
Jasmine says a goodbye to her family then she follows me across the room. Her eyes flit from her family to mine—first that bastard, then Nick and Lizzy, who are in the corner of the room.
He glances at our stepfather. Then at me. His stare says everything.You're making a mistake. Letting him control you.
Then he turns to Lizzy. He's pretending something. Protecting her from this.
She doesn't know what Lucien looks like. She doesn't know he's still breathing. Still infecting the world.
She doesn't know he's here. And he's trying to keep it from her.
Where the fuck does Nick get off telling me about honesty?
Asshole.
"Mai was saying you seem like a tiger in the sack. Well, it sounds a little different in Vietnamese, but that's the best translation." Jasmine's voice is nervous. "She um… I think she recognizes Lucien. It's been awhile though."
"Yes," I say.
"I didn't realize you were still in touch."
"Here and there." That's a nice way of putting it.
"Oh. I thought… I'm not sure, actually. It makes sense. He was your father for a long time. Of course, you're in touch." Her eyes meet mine. They're soft. Loving. Like she's inviting me to lay my heart bare for her.
That's not going to happen. "Yes." Not the entire truth, but enough.
Despite the disbelief in her eyes, she nods. "And this arrangement—"
"He needs to believe it. Everyone needs to believe it. Nick is the only one—"
"Oh." Surprise streaks her expression. "He didn't let on."
"He has a good poker face."
"Have you ever played him?" she asks. "He's a shark."
My brotherisan expert poker player. He places in tournaments all the time. Some high stakes, some for a few hundred dollars. I'm sure he could destroy me in a game.
He knows the odds.
And he bluffs better than I do. He's cooler. Calmer. He took all that pain and turned it inward.
Whereas I'm ready to throw a fucking table out the window.
I squeeze Jasmine's hand.
She squeezes back. It's comforting. More comforting than it should be, given the circumstance.
"Mr. Marlowe." Charles, my stepfather's second in command, extends his hand. "It's always lovely to see you." Technically, Charles is someone on the board I can impress. But it's unlikely he'll vote in my favor if that bastard doesn't. Better to focus those resources elsewhere.
Like throwing that bastard out the fucking window.
