Page 74 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

“You need be careful what you say, Alex.” I smiled a slow, leisurely smile. “My date will be back soon. I’d hate for you to scare her off.” I tilted my head and winked. “It’s been going so well.”

I noticed the way his jaw clenched at my playfulness, before he replied.

“I already paid the waiter to stall her until I say so. We don’t need an audience for this,” he sneered.

I folded my arms as I lazed back in my chair, wanting him to know how relaxed and unfazed I felt. The polar opposite to his hunched forward stance and uptight demeanour.

“But you know how much I love an audience. Why would you try and stifle me, Alex? You should never stifle a creative when they’re in their element.”

“You’ve gone too fucking far this time. You know you have.”

I shrugged as if I had no idea what he was talking about.

“I know nothing of the sort. I think you need to elaborate for me.”

His jaw was ticking like a lunatic now, as if he might break a tooth at any minute. I did love making him squirm.

“Don’t play games with me,” he hissed. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Which is...?”

“Emma,” he snapped. “Stay the fuck away from her. I fucking mean it.”

I gave a low chuckle as he bristled with anger.

“You’ve got it bad for this one, huh?”

In all the time I’d known Alex, he’d never shown interest in a woman. And then along came Emma fucking Belmont.

His reaction to her had startled me at first. I found his lack of restraint a little unnerving, and I was doing my best to try and show him the error of his ways. Putting your trust and heart into something that wouldn’t work was for fools. Alex was no fool. And I’d keep reminding him of that fact for as long as I needed to. It was my duty, after all.

“She doesn’t deserve the crap you’re giving her,” he went on, as if I cared what she deserved. I couldn’t give a shit.

“Doesn’t she?” I replied, frowning. “She wasn’t very nice to me in the press. Or have you forgotten that?”

“You and I both know that was bullshit. It was a fake review, written by Gold, using her name. You know how Gold works. You aren’t that stupid. In fact, I know you aren’t. And I don’t think this is about a shitty review at all. Your ego isn’t that fragile. Nothing about you is fucking fragile.”

“I’m offended.” I reared back, pretending to look affronted. “I take pride in my work, and she shit all over it.”

“No, she didn’t, and you know that as well as I do. So, tell me, what is this really about?”

I drummed my fingers on the table and sighed.

“Do I really need to explain myself to you of all people?”

His brows raised like he was surprised I was challenging him. I didn’t normally have to challenge him. He always danced to my tune.

“I’ve supported you from day one,” he stated, jabbing his finger at me. “I’ve done everything in my power to help you. I wanted you to have purpose and drive, but this...?” He sneered in disgust. “It’s fucked-up and it stops. Today. You’ve fucking lost it.”

I gave him another nonchalant shrug.

“I haven’t lost anything. I know exactly what I’m doing.” I nodded over at him. “I think you might’ve lost a few things, though. Did you leave your balls back at home with Emma? Nice touch, moving her in with you, by the way.”

Fury burned in his eyes, knowing I was watching her. That I was watching everything. And he picked up a steak knife and stabbed it into the tabletop, his eyes on me as the knife wedged into the wood.

“There he is,” I chuckled to myself. “I’ve missed seeing this Alex. I like it when he comes out to play.”

“I’m not playing this time,” he seethed, keeping his hand on the knife as he glared at me. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your hand that I stabbed this into. I’m holding myself back right now and we both know how hard that can be for men like us.”