h1 ss="text-2xl font-bold mb-4 "Chapter 4: La POV/h1

I’m standing in front of my mirror in just my underwear, debating on what to wear to tonight’s inevitable shitshow.

I have been summoned to dinner with mommy dearest and her new fiancée, Michael. Urgh, someone shoot me now!

I need to be at the restaurant at 7 pm sharp, dressed nicely but demurely – what does that even mean?

I decided to go with my go-to dinner dress – a little ck number that hits just above the knee, hasce sleeves to just below my elbows, and a neckline that shows a hint of cleavage but is still respectful.

My hair is in loose curls and done up in a half-ponytail, subtle make-up and a nice red lip stainplete the look along with my favorite ck ballet ts. Comfortable, practical yet nice enough for a fancy restaurant.

At 6:55 pm, I walk into the restaurant and as I wait for the hostess to seat me, my momes rushing over.

“Could you not have worn anything nicer?” She starts fussing over my dress, trying to pull my neckline down so more cleavage is on disy. I swat at her hands and adjust my neckline to a position that I’mfortable with.

“I am dressed perfectly decent and I’m not here to impress anyone. If Michael can’t ept me and my looks as is, he can go fly a kite.” I know I’m unnecessarily snarky towards someone I haven’t even met, but I refuse to be cowed into acting and looking a certain way.

Mom huffs in annoyance but begrudgingly drops the subject. I follow her to the back of the restaurant towards a table with an older gentleman who is already seated with his back to us.

As we near the table, he stands and turns around. He nces at my mom for a second, but then his gaze immediately locks on to me. He starts at my feet and slowly and very deliberately looks up my legs, over my hips, across my breasts, lingering on my little bit of cleavage and eventually settling on my face.

He has a smile on his face that, at face value, would seem friendly and inviting, but his eyes tell a whole different story. He gives me the creeps and I decided then and there that if it were up to me, I’d never be alone with him in the same room.

“Hi, you must be La. I’m Michael. Your mom has told me so much about you.” As he’s speaking, he extends his hand, and my manners dictate that I do the same. A subtle shiver runs up my spine as soon as my fingers slide over his. I don’t like this man.

“Pleased to meet you, Michael.”

He pulls out my chair and as I scoot myself in under the table, his fingertips subtly brush against my shoulder des. I silently pray that it was an honest mistake.

He helps Mom into her seat across from me and then takes his seat to my left. I immediately pick up the menu so I have something to distract myself with.

“Are you excited about the wedding?” Michael nces at me with a smile that feels more predatory than friendly.

“Honestly, I don’t even know when it is taking ce or where, so I haven’t had the chance to get excited.”

“My apologies, I was the one to spring everything on your mom, so she probably just hasn’t had time to discuss everything with you.”

Yeah no, that’s not it. Mom has deliberately kept me in the dark until now. I’m just not quite sure what her reasoning behind her subterfuge is.

Our waitresses over and takes our drink order, but I notice that her gaze lingers on Michael a smidge too long and his wink to her does not get lost on me. I was right, this man is creepy.

As we wait, we discuss menial topics, and my mom doesn’t really attempt to be a part of our conversation. Her attention is more centered around her phone – she’s probably busy finalizing the wedding ns.

Our drinks get dropped off and we order our dinner options. My mom gives me an askance re when she realizes I’m not ordering a sd. No thanks, I’m not a rabbit, I will not be eating rabbit food.

“Your mom tells me you are starting university in the fall; do you know what your major will be yet?” Michael has this excited look on his face as if it is his daughter who will be going to university instead of histest arm candy’s offspring.

I nce at my mother and I see there is a look of mild panic on her face. Ah, her new beau does not know about her most recent misdemeanors – interesting. I decide to keep this little tidbit to myself, for now.

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, I had to put my university ns on hold for a year.”

Michael frowns at my answer but doesn’t pry any further – clever man.

Just then, our food is ced in front of us, and I don’t waste a minute to enjoy the risotto I ordered. The less I have to speak for the rest of the evening, the better.

Michael and my mom talk in hushed voices, and I can tell by their bodynguage that not everything is rainbows and candy floss between them. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

As I’m finishing up my meal and contemting my excuse to leave early, an ominous shadow falls across the table.

Michael looks up and practically freezes with his fork midway to his mouth. Interesting.

I follow his line of sight to a tall, foreboding figure that lords over our table. He is at least 6 foot 5 inches tall, covered with tattoos from his knuckles to his neck, and something tells me they even cover his legs. Legs that are almost as thick as my head is wide. He’s dressed in ck jeans, a cotton ck T-shirt that struggles to hold his biceps, and even ck sneakers. Stereotypical much?

He is ring at Michael as if he could have him go up in mes by just focusing on him long enough.

Next, his gaze slithers over to my mother and she stills like a deer in headlights. One side of his mouth tips up in a sneer as if he is looking at dog shit that is stuck under his shoe.

“Allison,” he acknowledges her, but I get the distinct impression he would rather eat fire than be in her vicinity.

Next, his gaze glides over to me and I’m immediately caught in a sea of emerald-green orbs. My breath catches and my heart rate picks up. I can feel my pulse jumping at the base of my neck.

“So, this is my new stepsister, the gold-digging whore. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.”

My jaw goes ck and I’mpletely floored – this absolute douche nozzle!

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