Page 15 of Wreckin' Amethyst

“Mutts are supposed to eat on the floor,” Carter grumbles and I know he’s not only speaking of Pig. Opening my mouth with a smartass response, Sebby squeezes my knee and leans into my ear.

“Tonight is important.” His grey eyes hold a plea and I’m inclined to believe him. Strange, how quickly I have warmed to Sebby when many struggle to breach my barriers. Men especially, but Sebby has no problem confusing my eyes with my tits.

“AKA, don’t fuck it up. Got it,” I whisper back. “I can still screw with Carter though, right?” Sebby only smirks, a rarity for his wounded-puppy vibe and I take that as a solid yes. Removing his hand from my knee, he sits back and I’m left with the silent demand in Myles’ expression. Jealousy radiates across the space between us as waiters appear with starters. Serving the top table first, each waiter stands to our right until a superior signals for them to lower the plates in perfect unison.

“Oh, how the other half live,” I breathe, looking at the plate before me. Usually, the average consumer may expect only one type of seafood, but it would seem the Hudson crew go hard. Strips of salmon in the shape of a rose, pan-seared scallops, a crab claw and some kind of terrine. All artfully presented with a swirl of foam and sprinkling of herbs and caviar.

To think, I could have had a life like this had I made different choices, makes me more nauseous than the scent of seafood. For years, I’ve layed awake at night, picturing such a life in my mind. Only to come to the conclusion I would have been bored to the point of suicide. Nothing beats the rush of a con, knowing you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. The deception of slipping from character to character, becoming the epitome of your own fantasy overnight. And when that fantasy no longer serves, you move on. Search for the next high, a bigger fix.

“Ami,” Charley whispers. I look up to see everyone is watching me, waiting. For what – I can only imagine is my refusal. Instead, I spear a scallop with one of the many forks provided while Myles rolls my nickname around on his tongue.

“So,” I break the tension when those stares become too probing. “What’s the special occasion?” Myles tips back a full glass of whiskey.

“On the surface, we hold a yearly gala to celebrate and raise funds for the rehabilitation program which saved me from myself. While most guests are A-list celebrities and investors, there are also therapists, nurses, admin staff from the recovery center I attended. Even a few other reformed patients I grew close to during my treatment.”

I watch Myles closely, picking up on small details others may overlook. How his lip involuntary curls as he said ‘treatment’. How the fullness of his chest, supposed to resemble pride, is withholding a deflated sigh. Myles doesn’t feel comfortable in these surroundings, with these people, because he doesn’t believe he needed rehabilitating.

“And under the surface?” I ask, not missing how he gave me the rehearsed response. Clenching his jaw, Myles looks to Owen, passing a silent message to fill me in on whatever he doesn’t want to admit.

“Table four are our business associates,” Owen lowers his voice, leaning over Pig. “They’re invited under the guise of supporting Myles’ journey, but really, they are watching for a hint of a relapse. Any indication he is a flight risk which could result in damaging their company’s reputation further down the line.” I peer back, and true to Owen’s word, eyes continually flick our way every few seconds. I give a small wave, causing the suited men and uptight women to swivel in their seats like anemones shrinking back into themselves. I scoff.

“What do they think is going to happen over dinner? That Myles will drag me over the table by my hair and fuck me senseless while you all hold me down?” A concoction of groans ignite around our table, Myles’ eyes scrunching closed and his teeth sinking into his fist.

“Don’t tease him like that,” Carter spits. His green eyes burn with hatred, like I’m the very essence of what he’s been protecting Myles from. Unfortunately for all, Myles has decided I’m exactly what he wants. I roll my eyes, filling my mouth with the largest scallop I’ve ever seen and pointing my fork in Carter’s direction.

“You can’t protect him from everything, especiallywords. Not when your pupils have dilated with lust as much as anyone else.” A stale silence falls amongst the curious exchange of looks, except for Carter’s. His stare is cemented on me while I continue to eat, that same tick beating in his jaw. He should really get that checked out, although I’m certain it has a direct link to the stick up his ass.

The remainder of the starters are devoured, mostly to keep mouths busy. Mine in particular is salivating for every salty, delicious bite and I hate myself for it. I’m not a classy bitch. I’ll have to sneak away soon to order and binge on many greasy hamburgers with Pig to atone for my sins.

The waiters clear our plates, the orchestra carrying the evening seamlessly from one melody into the next. Although their instruments are kept at a gentle volume, it’s enough cover for Carter to mutter into Myles’ ear without me being able to eavesdrop. The clever twist of his head also means I can’t lipread, so I turn my attention elsewhere. To making mischief, more or less.

“Swap seats with me,” I mouth to Charley. She passes the quickest glance to Myles one seat over, purposely distanced, before standing. We cross at Sebby’s back where Charley warns me to ‘go easy on him’. I smile sweetly, planning to do no such thing. Myles may be many things, but he doesn’t believe a sex addict is one of them and I’m inclined to believe him. Catching snakes in the grass is my specialty, and Myles’ resentment for his past may be the only thing we have in common.

The moment I lower into Charley’s seat, Myles’ attention swings to me. Attentive amber eyes, which could no doubt turn glacial if required, drink in my face. I give him a small smile, sitting back in the chair. Toying with the heart pendant at the top of my cleavage, he falls directly into my fickle trap, not even realizing the mains have been served. I barely look at the food myself, spotting a full-length carrot out the corner of my eye. Picking it up between thumb and forefinger, I slowly push the vegetable sideways into my mouth. It nudges against my inner cheek before I bite down hard with a wink. Myles shudders.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Carter sits forward, glaring daggers at me once more. I shrug one shoulder, laughing if Carter thinks this is anything. I’m fully in the mood to climb onto this table and really give him something to tense his jawline over. “Myles does not care for your display. He knows where and when it’s appropriate to indulge himself.”

“Does he sit and play dead too?” I muse. Sebby kicks me under the table. I kick him right back, keeping Carter in my eyeline. “I’m just saying, I thought you were his friend, not his owner. And since mutts are supposed to eat on the floor, perhaps you should tell Myles to slide on beneath this table and hunt for some dessert.” Carter’s hand slams down on Myles’ forearm before he can act on the pained groan escaping his lips. And all the while, that same hint of lustful dominance swirls within Carter’s green eyes. He wants to punish me, tame me, and I’m in half the mind to let him try.

“Dance with me,” Sebby suddenly announces, pushing to his feet. When I don’t immediately react, he wipes his mouth on the napkin and throws it onto my full plate, before dragging me up by the arm. We swirl into the center of an empty dancefloor, earning everyone’s attention as Sebby whistles to the orchestra. Their soft tempo increases as one, blocking out the hushed whispers filtering around us.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” Sebby murmurs, jerking me into his personal space. “For what I imagine is the first time, let me damn well lead.”

Slipping a hand into mine and placing the other on the small of my bare back, Sebby whisks me into a waltz. Our surroundings blur, a self-induced breeze fanning out my skirt. The singular curl framing my face is batted around, constantly moving between our fixed eye contact. I keep pace with Sebby, much to his surprise. Each sweeping movement of his dress shoe is pre-empted by the shift of my heel. I’ve spent my entire adult life learning to adapt to any environment, especially those which will grant me access to my enemies.

“Answer me one last question and I will be on my best behavior for the rest of the evening,” I mutter into Sebby’s ear. He breaks away to spin me, his grey eyes holding disbelief as I resume my place pressed against his front. “Pinky promise.” Sebby can’t fight his smirk as I curl my little finger around his, leading me through the fluid footsteps of our dance.

“Ask it quickly. The song is almost over,” he grunts on a nod. My skirt swishes about my legs, the sweet symphony cascading over my exposed skin. Every muscle in my body works to keep in time with Sebby, and every eye in the room is carefully watching each one.

“Why was Myles in rehab for sex addiction, if he clearly doesn’t have it?”

Chapter 10

Teasingasmallpebblebetween my fingers and thumb, I skim it across the water of a huge concrete fountain. The type you’d see in a town square, where those desperate for divine intervention might toss coins and hope gods exist. Above the shimmering moon’s reflection, a woman stands twelve feet tall, her naked body sculpted from the marble waves consuming her. She struggles against their lasting grip, one lone hand stretching towards an endless and forgiving sky.

Dear fuckery, I’ve entered a stage of poetic fallacy. Delving this deep beneath the Amethyst persona is dangerous, and if I let emotion impact my judgment, we’re all screwed. Yet, I can’t stop replaying Sebby’s words over and over in my mind. We’d skipped out after our dance, lingering near the balcony as I was given a brief rundown of Myles’ past. My feet began moving afterwards, seemingly bringing me way out into the gardens, needing some space from the gala for a while. My knack for being perceptive told me Myles was innocent, and now I know the truth.

“We were in our second year of boarding school, young and stupid. Myles was a god among men, his family being one of the founders meaning he could do no wrong. When you’re freely given attention like that, and classmates are throwing themselves at your feet, no one would have done any different. Our house parties were just as renowned as Myles’ high sex drive, putting a target on his back.

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