Page 32 of August and the Night

Arthur's eyes widen in terror as he analyzes his predicament. Oliver who had labored his way to the scene by waddling like a pregnant penguin, finally manages to catch up. With a grating voice, he musters the courage to speak up, though his stuttered words barely register, "Hey, you can't do that, man..." His shaky attempt at asserting authority only seems to amplify the dominance of my presence.

I shoot him a disbelieving glance, an unspoken message conveyed through the intensity of my gaze, causing him to involuntarily shrink back, his hand nervously rubbing his neck.

Ignoring his feeble protest, I focus my attention back on Arthur. The air is crackling as I arch an incredulous eyebrow at him, challenging him to do anything I do not like.

"How about that dinner then, Arthur?" I growl, my voice low and edged with an unyielding command. Arthur gulps with fear as he nods with a hint of desperation, stumbling back towards the house. The rest of us follow suit.

As Arthur and Oliver step into the house, followed by two bodyguards to ensure they do not do anything stupid, the door swings ajar.

Lily, Layla, and I linger outside momentarily, as the cousins seem to want a moment and there is no way in hell I am leaving Layla alone in this place. Lily envelops Layla in a tight hug, her relief and concern palpable in the embrace, bridging the gap between them.

Yet, Lily's gaze shifts to me, finally analyzing my features for the first time it seems, and her complexion drains of color. A hand instinctively covers her mouth as her recognition registers, a memory of her failed seduction at the party flooding her expression with horror. She sways, seemingly overcome by the realization.

"Layla, I... I can't..," Lily stammers, her eyes wide with shock.

Layla looks at her with confusion. "What's wrong, Lily? Are you okay?"

Lily manages a nod, but her unease remains evident. "Yeah, I'm just... a bit dizzy, that's all."

Breaking the hug, Lily attempts to regain her composure before entering the house, leaving Layla puzzled and casting a questioning glance my way.

I meet her gaze with a casual shrug, purposefully feigning unawareness. If I tell her about it, I will have to expose her to a lot of darkness she didn’t need to know, and I am not doing that.

I look into her beautiful brown eyes, my voice steady as I ask her, “Ready to face this, Layla?"

Her eyes meet mine, the majority of her previous fear replaced by determination. "Yes, August. Let's do this."

27

August

We enter the house, the dining room greets us with an opulent display of dishes spread across the table. Various meals are meticulously arranged, it is likely Arthur thinks that will help his case.

The atmosphere is heavy with his fear, and the two bodyguards are standing a couple feet away from him but close enough to ensure his nerves, always aware of their presence.

He sits at the table's edge, his anxiety evident through the beads of sweat that trickle down his forehead, while Lily, appearing composed yet uneasy, occupies the seat next to her fiancé who seems on the verge of tears.

Guiding Layla to her place, I settle beside her with a calculated casualness, akin to how a king might command his throne. Spreading my legs slightly and maintaining a straight-backed posture.

A self-assured smirk plays on my lips, asserting my dominance. It's a subtle power move, a nonverbal assertion of my authority that doesn't escape Arthur's notice.

His clenched jaw and narrowed gaze reveal his frustration, but he wisely chooses to keep his objections to himself.

With deliberate precision, I spear a piece of steak with my fork, the metal scraping against the plate, a sound that seems to echo in the charged atmosphere.

Placing the meat onto my plate, I fix Arthur with a predatory gaze, my eyes locked onto his like a predator assessing its prey.

"So..." I begin, cutting a portion of the steak with my knife, the blade slicing through the flesh effortlessly. "I've been informed that your hands wandered to places they had no business being," I growl, my voice dripping with a dangerous undercurrent.

Raising the cut piece of meat to my mouth, I chew slowly, aiming to cause him stress with my silence before I speak again, like the calm before the storm.

My unwavering stare bores into Arthur, a silent challenge that seems to unnerve him, evident in the clenching and unclenching of his fists.

Pouring a glass of wine with calculated nonchalance, I address him with a deadly tone, each word laced with a threat. "Did you dare lay a hand on my woman, Arthur?" His body language changes, his anger barely concealed as he stares at Layla with resentment, as if he would attack her right now if I were not present, over my dead body is he laying a finger on her again.

Lily seems completely absorbed in our conversation, leaning forward as if she can't resist the pull of my words. On the other hand, her fiancé is more focused on devouring his meal, greedily stuffing his face with the food laid out before him.

I shoot a glare at Arthur, a clear message that I hold the upper hand. The atmosphere is tense, and I don't mince words. "Apologize to her, now," I state firmly, my voice cutting through the silence.

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