008: a normal family

Devon's POV

The universe must be working in my favour. Dropping Allera right into my lap where I want her to be.

Footsteps approach from behind me, I know that pace well enough. Alessandro Moretti. "What's the matter? You look happy this morning." He stands beside me on the balcony, looking way too proper in a suit and tie.

"I'm just so happy that you're finally getting married."

He shakes his head. "Please. We're not friends, save your cheap sentiments."

"Come on, man. Don't be so stiff. You're marrying my mom, that makes us more than friends now. We're family. You're my stepfather."

He shudders, shooting a dark look at me. "Stop saying that. You're making this weird."

"Should I call you daddy now?" I turn to him, closing the distance between us. "I bet you'll like that. It's all over your face."

"Devon. For fucks sake! That's highly inappropriate."

I can't help but chuckle. He's so easy to ruffle. Too damn easy.

Suddenly, he whistles, his gaze moving past the railings. "My heavens. Who is that beauty?"

Beyond the balcony in the gardens is an angel walking among the flowers, Cynthia by her side pointing and explaining things.

My breath catches.

Allera is fucking glowing. Her hair is like molten gold, and from the distance her eyes look liquid. She's changed into a cute pink sundress, one that hugs her figure tastefully. She smiles at something Cynthia says, and I feel my cock harden.

She looks so pure. I want to ruin her. Like black ink thrown over a pristine cloth. I want to break her into pieces and stitch her back together.

"She's stunning." Alessandro breathes, his voice dripping with awe.

She is.

"That's Allera. Carter's wife. Get your grubby hands, and eyes, off her."

"Please. Cynthia has all my heart."

"Like hell that stops your eyes from wandering."

He grins at me. "Not at all."

I turn back to Allera, leaning my elbows on the balcony. I wonder how long it'll take for her to notice my gaze and—

She turns. Our eyes meet. Her smile stalls, then she lifts her hand and waves a bit. I wave back, a smirk tugging on my lips. Will she be freaked out if I jumped down from this place to talk to her?

"Devon. What the fuck are you thinking?" Alessandro asks, alarm lacing his words.

"Whatever do you mean?" I reply, innocently.

"I know that hungry look in your eyes. Don't tell me...she's the one?!"

"The one for what?"

"Don't fucking mess with me. She's your brother's wife. You can't be serious."

"She won't be married to him for long."

"Did she tell you that? Or will you do something incredibly stupid?"

Allera walks off, glancing at me once before she's gone from sight.

"Calm down. It's your wedding, you shouldn't be stressing so much. The venue for the bachelor party is down, all you have to do is show up and have fun, okay?"

"Don't change the topic."

"I'll see you later, I promise. Don't miss me too much."

"Devon!"

***

I bump into my mother as I leave Alessandro's room. "Fuck." I mutter under my breath the moment out eyes meet across the distance and it's too late to duck.

"Is that anyway to speak to your mother?" She folds her arms, glaring sternly at me. "For goodness sake. Why did Alessandro make you his best man?"

"I don't know. Why is he marrying you?"

Her eyes narrow into condescending slits. "I'm sure we can continue this nice little conversation later. That aside, your brother will be here soon. Try and be on your best behaviour."

"What do you mean, mother? I'm always on my best behaviour. Tell your beloved boy to keep his rapey little hands to himself."

She rolls her eyes. "For goodness sake, Devon. That was one time, just forgive him already. And it was a childish crush, I'm sure he's over it now."

Over it? Of course that fucker is over it.

Where does that leave me? With the memory of my little brother reaching his hands where they shouldn't be.

My little brother.

Disgust crawls over my skin, and I shake off the images. It's a memory I've banished to the darkest parts of my mind, one I hate exhuming.

I wonder, for a faint second, if Alessandro knows the kind of woman he's getting married to, if he knows the enabling snake that Cynthia is.

On second thought, he probably does and that's why he's hooked on her. They're a match made in hell.

Cynthia places a delicate hand over my arm, her eyes warm and kind, the face she uses when talking to her workers and greeting babies. "Please, do this for me? For the sake of the good times we've had as a family?"

"I'm having trouble recalling those good times you speak so fondly of, mother."

"All I'm saying is, don't kill your brother at my wedding."

As much as I hate to admit it, Cynthia has a way of wrapping people around her finger. To the public eye, she's the angel chef. Kind, down to earth, makes millions but donates them all to charity. Only when you get close do you see the rot festering under her angel persona. By the gods is she revolting.

"I'll try. No promises." I reply.

Cynthia beams, her smile carefully curated over the years. "Thank you, Devon. I really mean it. Maybe after this is over, we can reconnect as a family, like old times. I'll cook all your favourites."

"I'd rather not. Thanks." That sounds like a total bore.

"I'm sure you'll change your mind," She says with a smile, then she walks off, throwing orders to a few servants.

I'm not thrilled at the prospect of seeing Carter again. I almost didn't attend this wedding. I have no interest in watching another poor guy fall for Cynthia's charms, open his heart and wallet to her, only to get brutally destroyed.

But when Alessandro came to me to be his best man because in his words: "you're the closest I have to a friend," how could I refuse?

He doesn't listen. He's younger than her by twelve years, and a little fucked up too. They'd be a perfect match for each other.

Also, the one hundred and fifty million dollar building he gifted me played a part in convincing me.

I am absolutely looking forward to grilling my little fucker of a brother. And getting a taste of his wife while I'm at it, married or not be damned.

Allera is an exception to my ironclad rule about women. Should I be worried? Maybe. Do I care? Hell no.

***

"Devon!"

"Just the woman I've been looking for. "

Allera grabs my arm, yanking me into the closest room and slamming the door shut. Her eyes blaze with fire, dark in the indoor lighting.

"You lied!"

"About what?"

"About him! You said he'd be jealous! He clocked it, okay?! He knew, immediately that I was...that the picture was fake!"

Oh? Carter knew? That's interesting.

Allera paces the floor, running her fingers through her silken hair. "And that twerp! He had the guts to tell me that I wouldn't be able to do it. He thinks he knows me? God I want to rip his eyes out!"

"Hey, pretty, look on the bright side."

"What bright side?!"

"We can try again. A more...direct method."

She turns to me, her brow raised in interest. "Go on."

"Before that, I'm confused. You're more concerned about making your husband jealous than what it is I'm doing here?"

"I'm going to make Carter pay for underestimating me. If thinks because I'm in love with him that I'll just sit back and take whatever shit he dishes out. He's dead wrong!"

Oh my goodness, I am aroused.

It's the way she speaks, elegant yet deadly. It's the barely concealed anger on her features, her lithe body tense. It's the little huffs she makes at the end of her sentences. It's the way her eyes flash with pure murder.

Princess of Terror indeed.

"Oh and guess what?! He's supposed to be here right now. What did he do? Dropped me at the airport and left. I bet he's fucking Niko right now, leaving me to fend for myself in this strange place!"

Yes. Carter is a fool. Leaving her all defenseless.

Allera, however, is far from defenseless. I don't have proof but I know she can handle herself quite fine.

"He's so annoying! God! I wish I could—" She pauses and turns to me. Her eyes turn guilty and she sighs, biting down on her thumb. "I should start paying you for listening to these rant sessions."

I move closer to her with the intention of taking her clothes off. "I don't mind your rant sessions, pretty. However we have to do something about this husband of yours."

"What's in it for you?"

"Me?"

"Well I'm guessing you don't do things for free?"

I chuckle. She's delightful. "You're right. I get to have the satisfaction of seeing your husband crumple when he realises what he's lost."

She shakes her head. "No, that won't do. He thinks I can't do it, I'll fucking show him."

Then she reaches out, grabs both sides of my head, and pulls me down for a kiss.