Devoured (Devoured, #1)(38)

Of course not.

While I wait for Lucas to call for me, I check my Facebook.

There’s a message from Tori. Okay, three messages from Tori. They all pretty much say the same thing—don’t have sex with Lucas—but the last one makes me laugh. She’s gone the extra mile and put her message into one of those eCards she sends me whenever Tomas is behaving badly at work. It’s a picture of some Edwardian woman being groped and the caption reads:

May your attempts at having sex with me result in a guitar being smashed over your head. Which head is open for debate . . . .

Shaking my head, I shoot her back a quick message: Be nice. Hope you’re being good. Miss you like crazy, you beautiful girl, and thanks again for listening to me yesterday. I move the mouse up to close out the page, but someone sends me an instant message. It’s Kylie.

Kylie Martin: Loved the dress! I see Lucas made you go shopping. He treating you well?

Me: Besides bossing me around and being hell-bent on making me his submissive?

Kylie Martin: . . . I could’ve lived without knowing half of that.

I snort. She had asked how her brother was treating me. Did she really think I’d hold anything back considering she’s already fully aware of all his vices?

Kylie Martin: Look on the bright side—5 more days and I’ll be back, your job will be done, AND you’ll be able to give your grandmamma the deed to her place back. Easiest mega-chunk of change ever made, right?

No, wrong. Very, very wrong. How can anything be easy when being around Lucas makes my emotions feel like they’re in a game of extreme tug of war? Was Lucas always so dominating or did it happen once he became famous? Was there ever a point in his life where he wasn’t so dynamic? Regardless, I know one thing: Gram is the only person I would put myself out there like this for—I wouldn’t have even agreed to this arrangement to save my own place because of all the physical and emotional turmoil involved.

And we’ve got five days left.

Me: Yeah, real simple.

Kylie Martin: Got to run. Tell Lucas I said be nice to you—well, as nice as he’s capable of. Text me or call if you need anything! <3

She logs off before I can ask her about Lucas’s obsession with being dominant over me, but even if I had asked her, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t answer. Kylie seems to stay as far away from her brother’s kink as I do with my little brother’s . . . everything.

I curl my toes at the thought of Seth, at the thought of confronting him after yesterday. I clutch my phone, considering whether or not I should call him. I get three-digits in and end up dialing my grandmother instead. The voicemail box picks up.

“Hey Gram . . . haven’t talked to you in a few days. Just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking about you and that I love you. See you soon, okay?”

Staring down at the phone, I sigh. Then, there’s a knock at my door and Lucas yells, “Let’s go, Red.”

Because I’m feeling facetious, I return to the message Tori sent me of the eCard and email it to him.

?



Live rock is all dark lights and grit and sweaty bodies slicking against each other, but studio music is the total opposite. The Music Row studio is all ambient lighting and luxurious-technology. Lucas is the first of his band members to show. He tells the pretty blonde-haired assistant that we want to wait in a private room, and then she asks us if we’d like refreshments.

Lucas goes for a bottle of water and I order a Coke. From the way the size nothing assistant looks at me, I’m almost afraid she’s never heard of caloried-drinks, but then she nods and sashays off. I hate Lucas’s effect on other women just about as much as I hate the way he glances at her butt as she leaves. Reminds me of what a player he probably is.

“Nice,” I say. He must hear the bitterness in my voice because he smiles. It’s that lopsided one that always gets to me.

“Not really. But I’m a huge fan of your ass. I could write a song about your ass.”

“You’ve never even seen it.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow and gives me a wicked look. “Feeling is believing.”

I smooth a bunched section of my dress down and ease into one of the plush leather seats. I cross my legs at the ankle. Stuffing his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, he follows my every movement. Every flinch. Every sigh. He’s still looking at me like he wants to pull my panties off with his teeth when Size Nothing returns with our drinks. She hands me a Diet Coke and I start to accept it, but Lucas shakes his head.

“Ms. Jensen asked for a Coke,” he says.

“But—”

He shakes his head, cutting Size Nothing off. She just stands there obediently, her hands clasped in front of her, waiting for him to speak. To give her an order. “Run to the grocery store if you have to.”

She glares down at me like I’m scum under her 4-inch pumps and then casts a beaming smile at Lucas. “I’ll get it ASAP, Mr. Wolfe.” She leaves, but this time, he’s not staring at her backside.

“Do you always have to be in control?” I hiss.

“That wasn’t controlling, that was—”

“Asserting your dominance?”

“Don’t be a sarcastic little shit, Sienna. You asked for a Coke, she brought you diet.”

“I don’t need you to speak for me.”