by K. Webster
My thoughts are interrupted when Trent knocks on the door.
Who knocks on the door at their parents’ house?
An older gentleman wearing a black suit and bow tie opens the door. He must be Trent’s father even though they look nothing alike. My hands shake with nerves but finally I straighten my back. Sucking in a calming breath, I smile and extend my hand out in greeting.
“Mr. Sutton, it’s to meet you. I’m Opal,” I say in my most charming voice.
A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he glances over at Trent as he shakes my hand.
“Um, Opal. That’s the butler, Broderick,” Trent exhales sharply.
My stomach takes a nosedive to the floor. I’m horrified. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can manage to get out as we are ushered inside. My skin is crawling as all self-confidence leaps out the window to an untimely death.
“Opal, Trent,” Broderick greets as he leads us into a sitting room, “Mr. and Dr. Sutton are waiting for you in the parlor.”
Upon arrival at the parlor—whatever the fuck that is—I see an older woman with graying hair pulled tight into a bun lift her eyes from her wine glass and pin me with her glare. I shiver from the intensity of it and am forced to look away. On the sofa sits a distinguished man with an iPad in his lap. He must be the real Mr. Sutton.
“Mom, Dad,” Trent acknowledges and saunters over to his mother.
Her glare turns into a look of joy as she hugs her son. The mother-and-son embrace tugs at my heart because it is not something I shared often with my own mother. When they pull apart, her hard gaze is back upon me as she sizes me up. I try not to flinch, but I can feel her analyzing everything from my skin color, my age, and my outfit choice.
“Mom, this is my friend, Opal,” Trent introduces. This time, I actually do wince at his chosen word for our relationship.
“Lovely to meet you, Coral,” she replies coolly, a smirk tugging at her lips.
In this moment, I realize the woman has decided that she doesn’t like me. I could almost scream in frustration. Four years of trying to make something happen with Trent only for his mother to hate me for no fucking reason.
“It’s Opal, and it’s nice to meet you as well, Dr. Sutton,” I speak evenly. I meet her glare this time. Just as Bray fought for Olive, I’ll fight for Trent and our white picket fence.
Mr. Sutton stands and makes his way over to us. “I’m Trent Senior, but everyone just calls me TS.” He smiles warmly and stretches out his hand in greeting.
I relax a bit and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir,” I politely reply.
“Well, Trent, won’t you and your friend join us in the dining room,” Dr. Sutton instructs snootily, choosing to emphasize the word friend.
We all begin to leave the parlor for the dining room when a deep voice speaks up behind me.
“So, Trent, if she’s just a friend, you won’t mind me asking her out, will you?” the velvety voice questions.
Trent and I both whirl around to see an extremely good-looking man standing in the doorway with arms crossed. He’s wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt over a Nine Inch Nails T-shirt and has paired it with what looks like the holiest pair of jeans he could find. The black Doc Martens on his feet complete the badass, doesn’t-fit-in-the-perfect-home appearance.
“You’re back,” Trent growls at him. He seems angry at this man’s sudden appearance. By the looks of it, he must be his brother.
Against my mind’s wishes, my eyes hungrily take in the man’s appearance. He seems out of place standing in the doorway of the pristine parlor. His hair is styled in a ‘just fucked’ sort of way, which makes my hands twitch at my sides with the need to run my fingers through it. Amused, green eyes peer back at me, clearly catching me eyeballing him. I try to look away, but I can’t until I’ve looked over every inch of him.
“You know you missed me, big brother,” the man teases, but there is a hint of something in his tone. Bitterness? Anger? Sadness?
“Opal, this is Thaddeus. Thaddeus, this is—” Trent attempts to introduce us, but his brother interrupts him.
“I know, Trent. That’s your friend, Opal,” he replies and meets his brother’s glare with one of his own.
The tension is incredibly thick. These two definitely have beef with one another. I shift uncomfortably on my feet. This entire encounter with his family is awkward, and I’m actually looking forward to leaving, which sucks because I just got here.
Thaddeus strides over to me, so I extend my hand to shake his. Instead of shaking my hand, though, he pulls me in for a bear hug. I’m almost suffocated by his delicious soapy scent and frantically attempt to refrain from inhaling him. He smells good—too damn good. The way his strong arms hold me in their grip has me feeling slightly weak in the knees. I try to pull away before I completely melt in his arms, but he dips his head to my ear, stopping me with his sensual voice.
“Call me Thad,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling the inside of my ear.
I can’t help the shudder of excitement that courses through me. With a little pat on my bottom, he releases me—but not from his gaze. No, he greedily drinks up the view of my body—across the swell of my breasts, over my hips, and finally down my bare legs. My skin warms under his appreciative stare.
“To the dining room, shall we?” Dr. Sutton snaps, causing me to jump.
Trent slips an arm around my waist as he guides me into the dining room. My heart thumps, mostly in surprise, at his intimate, possessive touch. Maybe he truly does like me but is a little slow at showing it.
Once we’re seated, I nervously place my napkin in my lap. Then I sit up straight and plaster on a smile as Trent takes his seat beside me. Thad has chosen to sit directly across from me, and when I make eye contact with him, my smile falls. His face is serious as he looks me over. Where Trent looks like his father, Thad resembles his mother. But unlike Dr. Sutton’s, Thad’s face shines with kindness.
His green eyes, so clear and knowing, burrow their way right into my soul. I like him there. I greedily take the moment to trail my eyes along his strong, slightly stubbly jawline and I resist the urge to reach across the table to drag my finger along it—just to feel him again. When my eyes find his mouth, I try desperately not to fixate on it—God his mouth—the mouth that is now quirking into a crooked grin. Needing to stop looking at it before I embarrass myself, I dart my eyes back to his and he winks at me. Shit, he knows his effect on me. My skin blisters under his gaze, and I’m forced to look away before I start fanning myself.
What the hell has gotten into me?
“Maria, go ahead and bring the wine and our salads,” Dr. Sutton instructs, interrupting my near meltdown over her son. “Maria is our housekeeper, but she cooks when we have guests over.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I glance down at my hands and then back up at Thad. He is pinning me with his heated stare, and I struggle not to squirm. There’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel desired—wanted, even. And I hate it. I’m not supposed to be enjoying the looks of other men while I am trying to woo the one beside me.
As if on cue, Trent reaches into my lap and takes my hand.
Even though I’m willing myself to look everywhere but up at Thad, I can’t help myself and give in to glance back over at him. He raises an eyebrow at Trent’s hand in mine. I shouldn’t feel guilty for this but I do, especially when he slightly shakes his head. My heart sinks—freaking sinks. I swallow down my discomfort as I watch his jaw. Over and over the strong bone clenches and unclenches. He’s pissed at me.
Why do I even care what this man I just met thinks?
I force a smile at him and straighten my back. I’m here with Trent. Trent and I are destined to become something. I think.
Thad leans back in his chair and crosses his muscular arms over his bulky chest. His eyes never leave mine, and I feel like he’s found a way right inside my head. As Dr. Sutton speaks to Trent about something, I steal the
opportunity to really focus on the man in front of me. My eyes fall to the neckline of his T-shirt, and a small portion of a tattoo peeks out above it. When I bring my eyes back to his green orbs, he smiles at me again. I can practically hear our nonverbal conversation.
Like what you see?
What? No! I’m here with your brother.
Then why are you checking me out?
I’m not checking you out!
He smirks at me and I glare back at him.
Get out of my head, asshole.
Instead of leaving me alone, he winks at me again. I clench my thighs together. Good Lord, he has to stop doing that.
I risk a glance over at Trent. He and his father have launched into a conversation about their work day. I attempt to avoid both the heated glare of Thad and the icy one of Dr. Sutton, who is now showing an interest in our silent exchange.
Thankfully, Maria shows up with a bottle of wine and a tray with salads on it. I feel a small reprieve from their stares as she passes them out and begins going around the table, pouring wine into each glass. When she reaches Thad, she hesitates, but once she sees Dr. Sutton nod her head slightly, she pours his glass.
I furrow my brows in question.
“Maria, I’ll take some soda if there is any, or water will be fine too,” he says and disgustedly pushes his wine glass away from him.
I don’t miss the absolutely furious look he sends his mother. Could things get any more awkward? This whole dinner makes seeing my own mother seem like a cakewalk.
“Thaddeus, darling, one glass is hardly enough to do any damage. Now don’t be rude. We have a guest,” she purrs in a fake tone.
I see indecision war on his face. He wants to stay here—with me—but he also looks ready to bolt at any second. Finally, he sends an apologetic glance my way, which fills me with panic.
Don’t leave. I’m not done looking at you!
Thad throws one last glance in my direction before he stands from the table. My heart pounds because I can see that he’s visibly upset.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he growls and tosses his napkin into his salad. “I’m not hungry.” Then he stalks out of the dining room, leaving me all alone with the Big Bad Wolf.
I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until I exhale sharply after he’s gone.
“So, Opal, is it? Tell me, what is it that you do for a living?” she inquires. Then she sips her wine. The viper’s attention is back on me.
I squirm uncomfortably. I definitely feel like I’m at an interview—a test to determine if I’m worthy enough to date her son.
“I’m an assistant at Compton Enterprises, but now that I’m graduating from college, I’ll be working in the accounting department,” I tell her proudly. I’ve worked my ass off in school, and I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment.
“Your master’s degree?” she questions snottily before taking another sip of her wine. Her knowing smile tells me that she wants me to feel bad for not having achieved more than what I already have.
“Uh, no. My bachelor’s degree,” I sigh, defeated.
“Oh, I see.” Her condescending tone unnerves me.
I want Trent to help me out of this uncomfortable conversation—to tell me how proud he is of me—but he’s in another discussion with his father.
“So, uh, what do you do?” I stammer out. I’m normally a very confident woman, but around Dr. Sutton, I feel inferior and inadequate.
“I’m a partner at a fertility practice. I’ve been helping families have children for over thirty years now.” She smiles, this time a little more genuinely. I can’t help but feel even smaller in her presence.
“Wow. That’s amazing,” I respond honestly. How can I ever measure up to Mrs. Perfection herself?
Thankfully, dinner goes well with polite, although not friendly, conversation. When Bray’s mom, Connie, was being a bitch when he and Olive first became a couple, it was easy for me to be able to put her in her place. With Dr. Sutton, however, I am completely intimidated by her cold demeanor and I can’t even fathom ever speaking out against her. The woman would fillet me in seconds with her sharp tongue.
When Trent’s cell phone goes off, he excuses himself from the table and walks into the kitchen to take the call. All friendly pretenses are gone and Dr. Sutton pins me once again with her menacing stare.
“What are your intentions with my son?” she demands quietly.
I feel punched in the gut but sit straighter in the chair and lift my chin. “I like him and have for some time. It is my hope that we can progress into something more than friendship,” I tell her genuinely. An image of Thad pops into my head, but I quickly force it away.
“You’re not his type,” she bites out at me, her eyes skimming along my arm as I reach for my glass.
I know it’s a dig at my skin color, and I instantly hate her for her blatantly old-school way of thinking. Are people really stuck in the 1950s still? How were my sister and Bray able to overcome these ignorant judgments against their union?
“And what exactly is his type?” I ask a little more snippily than I intended to, hastily gulping down some wine to calm my nerves.
She narrows her eyes at me before she speaks. When I glance over at TS, he smiles sympathetically at me but doesn’t defend me. She most definitely wears the pants in this family.
“His type is usually of the blond-haired, blue-eyed variety. Oh, and those who are closer to his age as well,” she snaps.
I’m upset with her now, and I can’t help but throw back my own snide comment. “Well, Dr. Sutton. You know what they always say—once you go black, you never go ba—” I start to say, but I’m interrupted by Trent as he storms back into the dining room.
“Dad, we need to meet Mohammad Abdul at the office. He’s had an emergency and wants to liquidate some investments. I think he’s just panicking, but you know he feels more comfortable talking to you,” he sighs. “Opal, I’m sorry to cut our dinner short. You’re going to have to take a cab home. This is an emergency—one of our biggest clients. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he grumbles and yanks some money from his wallet.
He tosses the cash onto the table beside me. When his eyes briefly meet mine, he seems to ignore my horrified expression. Without any further words, he and his father hurry out. All I get is a wave over his shoulder as they bustle out. A fucking wave.
I’m stung. The smug look on Dr. Sutton’s face causes tears to burn my eyes. She knows she’s won this round.
“Excuse me. Where can I find the bathroom?” I stammer as I will the tears to stay put until I’m alone. I need to get away—away from her stupid smiling face and the rejection I always feel around Trent. Tonight’s let down takes the cake.
“Down the hallway, last door on the left. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be retiring upstairs. Just see yourself out. It’s always lovely meeting a friend of Trent’s.” She smirks as she stands and leaves me alone in the dining room.
I hate that woman.
The tears begin to roll down my cheeks, so I hurry to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. After walking over to the sink, I put my hands on the counter and look at my reflection. Dark-brown eyes peer sadly back at me. My makeup is streaked from my tears along my cheeks, so I rub them with my palms in an attempt to blend away the mess.
I was pretty enough to model at one time in my life, but apparently, because I don’t fit the usual girlfriend material of Trent, I’m just not pretty enough.
I’m pretty enough for Thad…
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to force out his hungry stare—hungry for me.
I open my eyes and reach over to grab some tissues. As I dab at my tears, I try to process how horribly this dinner went tonight. Would I ever catch a break with Trent and finally get to be with him? Do I really want to chase after him if he never intends on being caught?
For once in my life, I’d like to be the one who is being chased—and not by some creepy psycho like Drake who is dead set on gett
ing through me to get to my sister. I want to be the sun and moon for someone.
My thoughts once again drift to Thad. Why I can’t get that man out of my head is beyond me. Images of his mouth quirked up into a lopsided grin flood my mind.
The clicking of the doorknob startles me. I’m stunned to see Thad slide inside as if he has every right to be here. He’s no longer wearing the dress shirt, and now, my eyes wander over the way the fabric of his T-shirt stretches across his pectoral muscles. My mouth actually waters at the sight.
Stop looking at him like you want to taste him!
“I locked the door,” I snap angrily. I’m not even angry at him, but I’m furious as hell with myself. Here I am, lusting after the man before me instead of the man who left me here.
Trent left me here—to fend for myself. Not even friends do that to one another.
“And I unlocked it,” Thad replies matter-of-factly. Once he locks the door behind him, he walks over to where he’s just inches from me.
I’m trying not to notice the concern that’s written all over his face. Light-brown brows are furrowed as his green eyes search mine. His soft-looking lips form a worried line, and I instantly miss the smile from earlier.
I blink back more tears but defiantly hold my chin up as I wait for what he has to say. But instead of saying anything, he brushes some hair from my face and grazes my cheek in the process. The intimate touch from him sends a shiver through my body—the second time that’s happened. Why in the fuck does my traitorous body react to him this way?
“You have the most striking brown eyes I’ve ever seen on a woman. They’re so expressive—I can see your emotions,” he whispers, dragging a thumb over my bottom lip. “And right now, I see that you’re affected by me.”
My heart is beating rapidly and my breaths quicken at his proximity.
“Thank you, but I—” I murmur, but his thumb presses against my lips, hushing me.
“And your lips.” His eyes drop down to my mouth, and he slips his thumb away so he can properly inspect them. “I can’t fucking stop looking at these lips. If you were my girl, I’d spend an entire night worshipping them with my mouth until they were swollen and sore.”