Devoured (Devoured, #1)(14)

Finally when our first course arrives, I’ve had just about had all I can take of Kylie’s game of elusion. I place my palms flat on the table and clear my throat. She looks up at me, her dark eyes as enormous as the owls on her shirt. “Kylie,” I say as patiently as possible, “Why did you want to bring me here?”

Dipping a broccoli spear into the pot of scalding cheese that sits in the center of table, she frowns. I watch as she swirls the broccoli around until it disintegrates, each second making my heart thud louder, making me feel like she’s hiding something.

“Lucas wants you,” she says and then shrugs before blowing on the broccoli.

I already know this, but then a reason I didn’t think of this afternoon for her wanting to see me hits me hard. I come to terms with a frightening possibility and drop the piece of bread I’m chewing onto my plate. “Oh god, you’re not going to try to scald my face off with fondue or pour it in my lap because you’re in love with your boss, are you?” I ask in a shrill voice.

Her head pops up from the cheese and she stares at me blankly. I’m already making quick, jerky movements struggling to get myself out of the booth and away from this situation. To just leave her sitting here alone before drama ensues.

Then she starts to laugh hysterically.

That’s it. First thing in the morning, I would find a way to contact Lucas to tell him to keep Kylie the hell away from me.

Blinking back tears, she grabs my hand and pulls me back down. My knees lock up and I have no other choice but sit. I’m wheezing like I’ve just run a half marathon when she finally manages to squeeze words past her amusement. “No, don’t go, it’s just that what you said— Dude, so gross. I mean, I love Lucas, but that’s because I’m forced to. Our parents would have my ass if I didn’t.”

“Wait—what?”

She smiles. “Yep, guilty. I’m Lucas’s kid sister but only by a couple years.”

My hands automatically fly to my face, covering my embarrassment. “I thought you were . . . your last name is Martin,” I mumble slowly because there’s a thickness in my throat.

She holds up her left hand, placing it close to my face so that I’m able to see the tattoo circling her ring finger. She twists her hand, back and forth, so I can read the Old English text that clearly says MARTIN. “Eight years ago, the day I turned 18. His name was Bradley Martin and my marriage lasted about as long as the sex we had on my wedding night and was just as goddamn awful. Sorry, babe, you’re going to have to reevaluate your opinion of me because I’m not one of those assistants.”

How did I fail to notice what Kylie is to Lucas? Even though I’ve witnessed very few of their interactions with one another, it’s not like I’ve ever seen him treat her like anything other than his assistant.

I feel wretched for jumping to conclusions about her. I apologize, but she waves it away, grinning broadly. “Are you kidding me? You’re totally fine. You want to see real psycho assumptions, go and check out some of Lucas’s fan message boards. These people are devout fans, know exactly who I am, and still bash the hell out of me.”

I swallow hard. “Anything else I should know?”

Her tickled grin gradually gives way to a sheepish look. I’ve always hated looks like this because it never indicates something pleasant. Then she drops her head, rearranging the silverware in front of her. “I hate fondue. Like really, really loathe it.”

“Then why did you ask me to come here? We could’ve gone somewhere else. I’m not picky. I’m not . . .” But I am sweaty and nervous. I’m not so na?ve that I believe her shame face stems from a hatred of melted chocolate and cheese. No, Kylie’s withholding something else.

“Because you wouldn’t have come for him,” she whispers, pointing. I follow her fingers across the restaurant, to a smaller booth, to where Lucas is sitting.

My stomach pitches, and I cross my arms over it.

Why is he in this restaurant spreading his . . . ugh, rockstar charm? Why can’t I think or move or speak right now? The only thing I’m able to do besides hold my stomach and wish myself smaller is observe. Lucas beckons a pretty brunette waitress over to him, whispers something into her ear. She smiles down seductively at him, nods her head, and swishes her hair over her shoulder as she goes over to do his bidding.

He doesn’t spare her a second glance.

Now, he’s standing, walking toward my table. A scarlet haze stretches from the back of my skull and wriggles its way to the front of my face, making me unable to see straight for several seconds. That’s just how pissed I am at having been set up by Kylie and Lucas.

I’m still speechless, but now absolutely seething, when he comes back into focus.

He towers over me, his intense hazel eyes blazing into mine as he waits for a response.





CHAPTER FIVE





As soon as the sense of feeling reenters my lower body, I bolt up out of the booth. Since I’m so tall, my knees bump hard alongside the table. Wincing in pain and bowing over in humiliation, my vision pings back and forth between Lucas and his sister. In order for me to be successful in my escape, one of them is going to have to move out of the way. Kylie’s face is still downturned. She’s not able to see the glare I’m casting her way, but Lucas—