Chapter 16

Vivian

I brush past Quentin and head toward his son.

Funny how I already think of Felix as Q's son and not as my ex. His shoulders are squared, he's pushed out his chest, and his jaw is set. He's almost as tall as Q and while he isn't as built, his wiriness has a certain appeal. He scowls at me, an accusing look in his eyes.

My steps slow. I begin to wring my fingers, then stop myself. He has no right to make me feel guilty about being seen with his father. He dumped me, so I can be with anyone I choose to be.

"Felix…" I put my hand on his arm; he shakes it off.

"Felix, listen to me, please." As I say it, I wonder why I"m the one begging him to listen now. If it were anyone else, I wouldn"t bother. He left me at the altar, not the other way around. And yet, I feel guilty.

He continues to glower, first at me, then at Q. The band around my chest tightens. There's so much animosity in the room, it's making it difficult to breathe.

I don't need to look over my shoulder to know Quentin must be glaring right back at him. Neither of them is going to give an inch.

My cheeks heat. How embarrassing to be caught between father and son. I do not appreciate this being thrust upon me, at all.

"Felix, please." This time, when I touch him, he grabs my arm. I'm so shocked, before I realize it, he's pulled me into him.

There's a sinewy strength to his frame which helps him hold me in place. Not that I try very hard to escape. Mainly because I'm taken aback. Felix has never acted this… aggressive, this commanding.

And maybe, a part of me wants to see what Quentin will do when Felix presses his lips to mine. Perhaps, it's that curiosity which makes me stand without protesting and allow Felix to slant his mouth over mine.

The next second, he's pulled away from me. Quentin plants his bulk between us.

With his back to me, he pushes his finger into Felix's chest. "Back off."

I peer around Q in time to see Felix peel back his lips. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

"In this case, I do. She's my fiancée."

"I don't see a ring," Felix snarls.

"Easily rectified."

"Hold on, don't I get a say in this?"

How dare they talk about me as if I'm not standing in front of them? How dare Q, once again, make decisions for me without consulting me? How dare the two of them ignore me and focus on their stupid oneupmanship?

"She was my fiancée before she was yours." Felix's jaw flexes with anger.

"She's mine now," Quentin says in a low, hard voice.

Jesus Christ! Did he just say that? How dare he. And why am I unable to stop the tremor of excitement fluttering in my lower belly? Why is it that he has to say the ‘mine' word and I'm ready to do anything for him?

I manage to get a grip on my emotions. I don't care how my body reacts to Q's overprotectiveness. I need to be a part of this discussion. I am the one who has a say over my destiny. No one, no man, not even one as macho and as dominant as Q, can make decisions on my behalf.

"She belonged to me," Felix declares.

"Too late. She belongs to me now," Quentin growls.

"Hey!" I put my fingers to my lips and whistle. It cuts through the tension between them. Both men look down at me. Felix blinks. Quentin scowls.

"Let me make one thing clear. I belong to myself."

"But…" Felix frowns.

"Raven—" Quentin begins.

I shake my head. "No, both of you need to listen to me. You cannot fight like this, and definitely not over me. Felix,"—I turn to him—"you broke up with me at the altar, with a text message sent to your best man."

Felix reddens, but he stays silent.

"As for you, Quentin?—"

The furrow between his eyebrows deepens. No doubt, it's because I called him Quentin, and he wants me to call him Q. But this is my bid to hold onto what shreds of dignity I have left in this farce, so I'm not giving him the satisfaction of knowing I do think of him as Q in my mind. "—you don't know me, yet you proposed, knowing it'd put me on the spot. Knowing?—"

"You couldn't say no," he completes my statement.

"—it's the worst kind of situation to go from wanting to marry the son to the father."

"Does it bother you what people think of you?" He inclines his head.

"Wow, just wow!" I slap my palms on my waist. "Way to minimize the issue, Q."

He flushes a little, then holds up a hand. "I apologize if you felt belittled in any way. I also apologize that Felix and I spoke around you. That was wrong of us."

"You think?" I huff. Some of the anger inside me nevertheless fades at his words.

He glares at Felix, who's watching our exchange with a look of disbelief.

"Felix?" he prompts.

Felix continues to stare at us.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Q growls.

"What?" Felix shakes his head. "Uh, yeah"—he clears his throat—"sorry about that." He shifts his weight from foot to foot as if he wishes he were somewhere else.

It's a lame expression of regret, but whatever. "Apology accepted," I say in a cool tone.

Felix flushes further. He hunches his thin shoulders, then lets his gaze slide away. The tension in the room builds again.

Q clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him.

"For what it's worth, it was a genuine question," he offers.

"The desire to present a favorable image to others is thought to be a universal human motivation across cultures." The words are out before I can stop them.

Q seems taken aback, then his eyes gleam.

He doesn't seem annoyed by my penchant for spouting weird facts when I'm nervous. In fact, he seems to enjoy my ramblings. I pretend not to notice the appreciative edge to his features.

"Unlike you, I have to live among them. I don't have the money to put up a cushion between myself and what people are gossiping about me." I wrap my arms about my waist.

"They only have to see us together to know what we have is real," Q counters.

"Did you two already sleep together?" Felix's gaze widens.

And when I blush, he takes a physical step back like he can't bear to be in my vicinity.

"We didn't sleep together," I insist.

"We almost did," Q confirms in the same breath.

Felix looks between us, and an ugly expression twists his features. He stabs a finger in my direction. "You spread your legs for him? You?—"

Quentin slaps him.

Felix gasps. His eyes grow bigger. He stares at Q, then anger suffuses Felix's features. He takes a step forward, then curls his fingers into a fist and buries it in Q's side.

I cry out, "Felix, stop!"