Page 93 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

Pepper turns to me. “You should probably get your girlfriend some help before her eating disorder gets her on more tabloid covers.”

It’s the last mistake she’ll make in my presence, but before I can deliver that news, Clara responds serenely, “Pepper, I can’t help noticing you haven’t touched your plate or your salad or your soup. The only thing you’ve had your mouth on is that rocks glass. I’m happy to lend you my doctor’s name after I finish eating.”

“Enough of—” my father starts.

“You don’t get to say enough, not if you sit and watch as she’s slandered,” I say in a voice low enough that everyone stills to hear me.

“Don’t be melodramatic,” Pepper says, as though it’s all innocent teasing. The telling slide of her throat undermines her arrogance. She knows she’s made a mistake.

“You’re here as a guest of this family,” I tell her, “because of Sarah. I’m now rescinding that invitation. I’d like you to leave.”

Pepper gawks at me, her mouth falling open. Around her, everyone starts talking at once.

“This is my house,” my father booms, knocking his fist against the table.

“And surely you stand by your son’s request to have a fair-weather friend removed from our table,” I say, my own voice rising to match his. “Unless Pepper is here at your invitation.”

Checkmate. He knows I have him. Unless he wants his dirty secret unveiled to the entire dinner party—many of whom will eagerly sell the information to the press—he has to play along with my edict. He nods in agreement to my wish before leaving the room without another word.

I have no doubt I’ll pay for getting his little toy sent home early. He’ll have more time to fuck with my relationship now, but I couldn’t allow Pepper’s behavior to continue.

“Pris?” Pepper looks at her friend, but Pris isn’t going to leave with her. Pepper might enjoy attention from her little crowd, but none of them are loyal enough to abandon their own standings with the family.

Next to me, Clara has stopped eating. I want to take her away, but not until I’m sure she’s been fed.

“Finish your dinner,” I urge her.

She stares at her plate as the rest of the dinner party fumbles to continue the evening.

“Now,” I growl under my breath.

She does as I command. One bite after another until her plate is empty. Then she stands and looks at the rest of us. “The meal was delicious and enlightening. Please excuse me.”

Before I can stop her, she runs from the room.