The Color of Her Lips

Chapter Thirteen

Michael

We're sitting far away from Brandon, my brother. He keeps eyeing us with suspicion.

Ariana keeps her eyes low on her plate. Her confidence faded away after the panic attack, she even let herself melt in my arms.

But there is something wrong. I know something's off. This behavior is not like Ari. She doesn't even talk that much. She's rigid, stiff on the chair. Her hands still slightly shaking as she picks her her fork with her left hand.

I take her hand in mine, stopping it from shaking, and put two fingers under her chin. "Look at me," I whisper. She does, and it's the first time I see her afraid. "What's wrong?"

She gulps, and shakes her head, closing her eyes. Then she reopens them, puts on a smile and says, "Nothing, I'm fine, Michael."

This is typically Ariana, but it's a mask. I don't know her that well, but if there's one thing I'm good at is seeing through people.

• • •

This whole dinner, event, call it how you want, is completely useless. No deals were made, it's a room full of cheating husbands and miserable women. The only thing that was good was the food.

Can you believe that we're slow dancing in a ballroom when it was supposed to be an occasion to make money? It's ridiculous.

I think Ari feels better than before, her hands are steady again and her confidence is back. We are forced to dance with the other couples in the center of the room, moving on a slow rhythm.

My hands are firm on her waist, hers are placed on my shoulders, and she doesn't meet my gaze but keeps watching all the other people around us. I want her to look at me.

"You feel better, right?" I say to get her attention.

"Yes, but I'm still in alert," she tells me and finally looks at me.

"Why?"

"I don't like that man," she repeats. Why doesn't she like him?

"Did he do something to you?" I frown and brush a lock of her hair away from her face.

"No...no." She hesitated, that's not good. "It's just that...you can't trust one like him."

"You're right, he's a piece of shit."

"Do you...know him?" There she is, being nosy.

"I heard voices about him." I don't want to tell her he's my brother, I am ashamed of him.

When I glance around the room, I spot Brandon walking alone towards us. Oh no, he wants to have a dance with Ari. I don't want him to even just look at her.

Ariana

Oh, my God. Oh dear. Sweet Jesus.

What is exactly happening right now?

Michael pulls me to his body, wraps a hand around my neck and crashes his lips on mine. What...what is happening, again?

I'm so shocked by this move that I freeze for a moment.

"Just play along," he whispers in my ear. "Make-out session in three, two..."

I look to the side and see Mr. Brown walking towards us. Oh, I get it now. We have to look busy with each other so he won't approach us.

I lick my lips and dive in to kiss him back. I thrust my fingers in his hair and I part his lips, using my tongue.

He pulls away for a moment. "I hope your lipstick doesn't smear," he says in a low voice.

I grin. "This is a kind that doesn't, it's proofed."

"Good."

His tongue slips between my lips and his hands go down to my waist, and down to my buttocks. He plants his hands there and draws me to his body. I stifle a noise in my throat. We're attached, our bodies like one.

This is a turn on as much as it's fake. He's such a good kisser and he likes to touch. I can't count how many times he's touched me in this past hour.

I feel hot, my cheeks are probably flushed and my lips swollen when we break the kiss. Even if I would've liked to keep his lips on mine. And when I look at him my stomach flutters.

"It worked, huh?" he says, a playful grin on his face.

"Of course, do you think I would've kissed you like that if I thought that wasn't a smart move?" I walk back to our chairs.

"You think that was smart?"

"Yes, just because I would've done the same thing."

I wait for Michael to sit down and, when he does, I sit on his lap. If faking to be together is the best way to keep Mr. Brown at a distance I'll do everything. That man creeps me out, I hate to admit it, because barely nothing does scare me.

But the scars he left on my body and in my head are too much to get rid of and forget.