Page 43 of The Forbidden Villain
Her beauty is mine alone.
“Not sure why you are amused, Wyatt.”
The soft jazz music playing in the background changes to Mozart and that’s my cue that my parents are about to call everyone to the dinner table.
Their fascination with classical music, according to our uncle, should be studied. It’s what brought them together, but judging by how they speak about it, I prefer not to know.
It’s not a secret that Dad kidnapped Mom and kept her hostage in this exact house twenty years ago until she fell in love with him.
I love, respect, and admire my dad.
In my opinion, he’s the best man there is.
Still, I want to cut something or someone whenever they mention their beginnings because the idea of anyone, even my dad, forcing my mom into anything makes me crave blood.
“Watching you stalking her all night while sending murderous glares all over the club is peak entertainment. I’ll take a video for you.”
Strolling toward the living room, I pass him by, and casually throw, “Lavender isn’t the only person he sent the invitation to.” I hiss through my teeth, “And a little bird told me he also sent her a gift. A dress and shoes.”
I laugh when I hear him crushing something behind me.
Oh, yes.
I might be in hell tonight, but I won’t be alone in it.
That’s the thing about Wyatt and me.
We’ve never left each other alone ever since we became friends.
CHAPTER TEN
“We should be careful when we accept invitations.
Because we willingly sign up for whatever the person has planned for us.
And once you give that consent?
You might never get the chance to take it back.”
Lavender
Lavender
Couples.
Couples everywhere.
That’s the first thought crossing my mind as I enter the gorgeous living room, admiring the atmosphere created by the expansive dark-oak furniture consisting of three couches, five chairs, and a round table that matches the rug. Since we’ve been here a few times, I know the same decor leads to the ballroom and dining room, which sometimes seems straight out of a historical show, with all its rare chandeliers and antiques scattered throughout, while the shiny marble reflects the lights streaming through the massive windows.
“Hello, darling,” a soft voice greets me, and I glance to my right where the two stunning older couples stand. “How are you?”
I focus my attention on the first woman since she addressed me, her dark hair falling in waves down her back as the black dress shapes her slender form in all the right places, while her kind brown eyes scan me from head to toe. Warmth radiates from here, which usually draws people to her, and that’s why most of her students adore her. Her kindness outshines her beauty. “Hi, Valencia.” I greet Aileen’s mother, and she shifts a little when her blond-haired husband, who hovers behind her, wraps his arm around her waist, his crystal-clear-blue eyes studying me, and their hollowness always scares me. Because it seems that Lachlan Scott can see right through all your facades and break down your walls, finding your rotten nature.
His massive presence makes me shy away from him most of the time, and I also feel shame.
My brother did kidnap his daughter, after all, with the intention to kill the guy, so I sometimes wonder if he just tolerates us for Aileen’s sake.
“Lavender.” His deep voice booms in the living room. “How are you?”
