Tamina

"What's the matter?"

Swallowing a mouthful of burger, I shake my head hesitantly. "Nothing, but the food tastes great, thank you again for that," I answer, and his fair brow hitches but no words leave his lips as he returns to his food.

I'm about to take another mouthful of my own when he pipes up. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

I nearly choke, and judging by his expression, he looks just as surprised about saying it himself. Scratching the back of my neck, I'm unable to help myself from blurting, "I'm not sure." Sighing, I shake my head again and swivel enough to show him I'm paying attention. "Honestly, I don't want to seem rude, or make you think I'm taking your words lightly—especially after what you've done for me today—but after everything that's going on with you and Brandon, can I honestly trust you, let alone confide in you?"

He doesn't reply, and it's enough of an answer for me to know where I stand, and it leaves me silently munching on some fries before he quietly murmurs, "Yes."

Our eyes meet, and the vulnerability in them is for the splittist second, but I'd caught it. Nodding hesitantly, my teeth sink into the remnants of my burger, enjoying the second to last bite before the rest follows it down. The feeling of his gaze on the side of my face distracts me from the rest of my food, and I'm quick to ask, "What?"

Instead of answering me, Lucius elevates his hand and casually swipes his thumb across the corner of my lip before popping it into his mouth. "Sauce." And then continues to munch away, leaving me speechless.

During our mini feast, my mind betrays me and dawdles on what he'd just done minutes ago. He was swift, casual, and damn right infuriating. How can someone casually do that with another person, let alone a person that's not their partner? Gritting my teeth, my eyes narrow on him, and I'm annoyed by how clean he eats, and that he even makes it look out of my league.

I never thought I would class someone eating as upper class instead of common, or whatever it is people use to separate low and high things now a days, but here I am.

He huffs out a deep breath. "Tamina, seriously, what are you thinking about?"

My eyes narrow. "You! You're being. . . different," I retort, and it's his turn to mimic the gesture.

"Elaborate."

Fiddling with the bag, my shoulders hike up before I'm dropping the wrappers on the table. "You're being overly nice and not. . . your usual self."

Out of everything I thought he would do, a sigh wasn't it, and then his eyes slowly meet mine after he puts his wrappers down beside my own. "After your night, I thought you could do with some tenderness. Would you rather I keep attempting to show you how much of a bad match you two are, and repeat that kiss of ours?"

Heat rushes to my cheeks as my fingers pick at my cardigan, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "No, thank you."

It's silent for a few minutes before he asks. "At the party, did you enjoy our dance?"

Eying him through my peripheral vision, he doesn't seem to be airing any cockiness, simply just wondering. Debating about it, I give him an answer. "It was good"—and it was— "but it could have done without the warnings and remarks."

He chuckles. "Tiger, I'm a man helping out a damsel, you should listen when being given advice."

Rolling my eyes, I mumble, "Whatever you say."

Turning to face me, Lucius furrows his brows. "Why were you clutching that dress he gave you so much?" His eyes narrow. "Before you deny anything was the matter, I don't believe that for a second. Your eyes were everywhere, and it was always the same spot on the dress. Were you hiding something?"

"And what would I have to hide?" I snap back, swivelling to show him I'm not backing down and he has my back up, hating how observant he is.

"You tell me," he dares.

Fighting the urge to get up and walk away, or turn my back on him, I grit, "It's none of your business."

"So, there is something?" He smirks.

Huffing out a breath, I shoot to my feet, but his fingers are quick to curl around my wrist and stop me from walking any further. Shrugging his hand off me, I throw mine in the air in exasperation. "Why do you even care?" my eyes soften, and then harden when he remains quiet. "Lucius, for once, please just answer a damn question! No more parading around like you know everything, just give me an answer!"

It's his turn to jump to his feet, and he's inches from me, and I'm quick to stumble back, and he lets me. "Fine," he snaps. "That piece of shit isn't good for you. I'm not going to do a cliché and give you my life story and fuck, you definitely haven't deserved it since you've not played by the rules; if you want to know, I would've said ask him, but I doubt the truth will come from his lips." He jams into his pocket and yanks out his phone before aggressively swiping his thumb across the screen, all the while his chest rises and falls heavily before he holds the device in front of my face. "You think he's a good partner?"

It feels as if the room comes to a standstill and begins to spin all at once. My stomach flips, and my eyes sting from the unshed tears. Early morning paints the background, and in the distance are two figures. Liberating the phone from him, my fingers don't waste any time in pinching the screen to make the image blow up. Instead of finding me and Brandon. . . it's him and Florentina.

Turning my gaze to Lucius, he pivots on his feet and shows me his back, but the expression on his face was anything but humouring and proud. My hands tremble at the sight of their lips pressed together, her hand wrapped around his neck as she reaches up on her heels, and his hands are planted on her shoulders. Hesitantly clicking on the information, the image is marked under today's date.

"How did you get this?" I whisper, and when his eyes don't meet mine, my voice hardens. "Tell me."

I'm unable to keep my voice from shaking, and my eyes burn with the tears I'm desperately clinging onto. Even though the evidence is literally in my hands, doubt still claws its way at me, disbelieving how he just left me so he could sneak out and see her.

Could he?

"Tamina, please—"

Setting his phone down, I shake my head. "No, you showed me this. . . now you can tell me. I want to know how you managed to get a hold of this picture, and what exactly was happening at the time," I seethe, balling my fists for the little amount of control I've got left.

Running a hand through his hair, the locks ping back into place and he's hesitant but gives up on his turmoil, and the look is enough for my bottom lip to tremble. "Not long ago, I asked one of my colleagues to keep an eye out for activities linked to his company—on the premises, outside the building since ours is across the street—for anything suspicious. They just snapped a photo and sent it to me, I don't know what the situation was, but you can't mistake something like that."

He's right, they look close; they've had history, and they were engaged. Was all of this just a farce? Just someone to mess around to pass their time? A charity project. . .

"Tamina," he whispers, coming closer and wrapping his arms around me.

Shaking my head, I'm pushing him away and the tears finally trickle down my face. "Don't touch me!" I cry, furiously rubbing my eyes and pacing around the room while my breaths quicken and my heartbeat rings in my ears. "Please, just leave me alone," I whimper, hating how he's finally brought out the result he wanted, hating the discomfort in my lower body, hating how betrayed I feel.

It doesn't help that his eyes are softening, as if he doesn't like what he's seeing.

"I didn't want to show you that, but you had to know. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you."

Every muscle in my body is tense, and my teeth grind in response so I don't bite his head off any more than I've already done. I'm not sure what I should do with him right now, but it's either thank him for warning me how much of a douche my boyfriend is, or yell at him for getting his facts wrong and trying to falsify this so he looks like the angel. . . but how can you lie about that image?

Before I'm able to decide on an answer, let alone figure out if I should raise or quieten my voice, my phone lights up and starts to play the default ringtone. Typically, Brandon's name flashes across the screen, and it has my heart skipping a beat while my breath catches in my throat. I'm about to reach for it when Lucius collects my wrist in a gentle grasp, and it's enough to divert my attention.

Softly rubbing the pad of his thumb across my skin, he states calmly, "Don't answer it."

Carefully shrugging off his wrist, I say, "I've got to."

I'm not sure how long Lucius stares into my eyes, but it's clear they were searching for something by the way they fleeted between each one. Soon after, he sighs and silently watches as I swipe up my phone and head to the kitchen for some privacy before answering on his second attempt.

"Tamina, where are you? My driver said he couldn't find you, and the receptionist at the hotel said the room had been vacated."

There's an edge to his tone, and that's all I need to know he's either not happy or somewhat worried. Although, after what I saw, he doesn't have the right to be, but it still hurts. Controlling my breath the best I can, in the time it takes my ears strain for anything to indicate he's not alone, but all there is, is shuffling from what can only be him putting down a glass or an object.

Damn it, male voices fade in the distance on his side, and there's no denying he's at work, but I'm not excusing the picture, nor am I going to let him get away with hiding anything else from me. If Lucius isn't going to tell me what their problem is, I'm going to make sure Brandon does. . . even if it means losing the man I love.

Sniffling, I'm finally able to let out a deep breath and say, "Brandon, we need to talk."