“Oh, yes. Right. Of course.” My mom takes another sip of her tea. Silence follows after that. The kind of silence that causes physical pain to those it’s inflicted upon. Polite as ever, my mother persists in trying to fill that silence. “And Alexis…she looked…well?” This question is aimed at both of us. Lacey sniffs, stands from the table, glancing around quickly with another contented smile, and then she leaves. Just leaves, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. Why the hell didn’t I think of that? But I can’t leave. God knows what Zeth could say to my parents. Or what they might ask him in my absence. I practically cringe at the thought.
“Yeah, last time I saw her she looked…healthy,” Zeth informs her. Another sip of tea. He picks up and bites into the cookie my mom gave him, meeting my gaze and smiling ever so slightly. Who the hell is this imposter, and where the hell has he hidden the body of the terrifying Zeth Mayfair? Because this guy…he is cookies and cream compared to the sharpened steel version of Zeth that I know.
I scowl at him, trying to communicate my severe annoyance at him barging in here and scaring the living shit out of me, and he has the audacity to wink in return. Wink! I’m getting suitably hot and bothered about that when he does something even worse. I feel a bump against my leg. Oh, he did not just…but when I feel strong fingers clasp around the top of my knee, I know that he did. He grabs hold of my thigh under the table. I lash out with my foot, intent on kicking some sense into him, but my aim is a little off.
“Ow! What on earth!” My father yelps like a kicked dog, reaching down to clasp at his leg. The leg I just booted.
“Oh! Sorry, Dad. Muscle spasm,” I explain weakly, grimacing. Zeth’s hand slides farther up my leg. I can’t help it—I shoot him a scandalized look. What the hell is he thinking right now? He’s behaving like an angel above the fine china my mother has laid out for us, but beneath the table he’s his usual self—the devil incarnate. I slide my hand under the table and locate his offending digits, rapidly traveling northwards, heading straight for dangerous territory.
Of course he would do this. This is totally him. Come barreling into my parents’ home, pretending like butter wouldn’t melt—information security? Yeah, right!—and all the while he’s trying to pervert me just a little bit more. Because under no circumstances have I ever imagined I would be sitting down to talk with my mother and father while a guy does his best to finger me under the table. I snatch ahold of his hand, grabbing onto the first finger I find, and I bend it sharply, doing my best to cause him pain. It feels like I’ll break the damn thing if I bend it any farther, and yet when I look up at Zeth he’s still smiling mildly, looking as though he doesn’t have a care in the world.
With one easy and careless motion, he twists out of my grasp and locks his grip around my wrist, tightening his hold. I do my best to stop myself from yanking my arm free, but it takes serious work. Dad looks a little confused, like he can see there’s something strange going on with me but he can’t for the life of him put his finger on it.
“When will Alexis be home, then, Sloane?” he asks.
“Soon. Really soon. She just has some things to organize back home. At her new home. It’ll be a couple of weeks maybe?” This news is going to kill them. After waiting so long and then, miracle upon miracles, finding out Alexis is still alive, they’re going to want to see her right away. My mother’s face falls, but my father just nods, as though all this is to be expected. In fact, he looks a little too calm. That doesn’t make much sense, but I have other things on my mind right now—mainly freeing myself from Zeth.
I tug on my arm, trying to disentangle myself from his grasp, but he only holds on tighter. Very slowly, he pulls my arm toward himself. He squeezes my wrist, just enough so that I can feel my blood pumping fiercely in each and every single one of my digits, and then he places my hand, palm down, into his lap.
My surprise at what I feel there sends my knee smashing up into the table; four sets of teacups rattle against their saucers and Lady Grey spills everywhere. A hard-on. He has the beginnings of a hard-on, and he’s angling his hips upward into my hand, pushing the thing against me as my cheeks suddenly burst into flames.
“What on earth is going on with you?” Mom gasps, reaching out to settle the various trembling items on the table.
“I’m sorry, I—” I’m trying to tell you about your daughter, and I have a handful of dick. The inappropriateness of the whole situation just makes it seem all the more surreal. What kind of person gets turned on when sitting down to make nice with the parents of the girl they’re fucking? Not only make nice, but to tell them the daughter they’ve suspected dead for so long is actually, in fact, alive? Zeth apparently. I shouldn’t have even bothered posing the question in my mind. Zeth is definitely the kind of guy to get serious kicks out of me squirming around like a fish on a hook. “I’m just fidgety after the long car trip.”
My dad’s eyes light up again. “Ah yes, the car. That’s right. Care to explain where you’ve left that?” There’s more interest in his voice now than there was when he’d been speaking about Lexi—something’s officially off about that. Really off.