God of Temptation

Chapter 15

~Remington~

Remi!!!" Landon's booming voice echoes from the sitting area. I glance down the corridor, watching him settle onto the couch.

Taking a deep breath, I try to push thoughts of Ariella away. An automatic smile tugs at my lips. "What's up, you arse?" "

Landon's face turns to me, sporting a familiar stupid grin. I know that look all too well. "I've got a surprise for you."

Usually, surprises excite me, but right now, all I want is to rush back to my room and check on Ariella. I didn't like the way she looked earlier. She seemed in pain, and I hate the thought of her suffering.

"Rems!" Landon's voice pierces through my Ariella-induced daze. I give him a look to continue. "Aren't you going to ask me what the surprise is?"

I fake a laugh, trying to feign normalcy. "What else but a party arranged for your lordship?"

"That's right, yours truly has arranged a party for 'your lordship'," Lan says, emphasizing the title, like always. I ignore it. Remi ignores it.

"Well then, I should go get ready for it," I say, ready to retreat to my room and deal with the mess.

"Remi, wait," Lan calls out, rising from the couch. Striding towards me, he continues, "Aren't you going to ask why I arranged a party all of a sudden?"

Giving him a goofy smile, I reply, "I know why you arranged a party - because you love me, and I love parties."

"Cut the crap, Rems," Lan interrupts. "You've been acting weird since Ariella arrived. Are you okay?"

I knew he was observant. This probably means Eli's noticed too. I should've been more cautious when I was fingering her.

Putting on my best convincing smile, a skill I've mastered, "Don't you think you're underestimating me? I can handle that kid." Internally cringing at my choice of words; she's eighteen, not a kid.

Landon pats my shoulder, "Keep thinking that way. Even I can't handle that hellion." I smirk, feeling oddly proud of my girl.

Wait what? Since when is she my girl?

Since now.

Shut up, brain. No one asked for your unnecessary comments.

Desperate to get out of the conversation, I come with the lamest excuse known to mankind-something so ludicrous it would make a sloth sprint for cover. "I'll go prepare for the party," I say before rushing to my bedroom. Let him be suspicious, I need to check on Ariella right now.

"I'll go prepare for the party," I say before darting to my room. Let him be suspicious; right now, I need to check on Ariella.

Catching Lan staring at me, as if he's trying to decode a color hex code, I roll my eyes and give him the middle finger, trying to play my role, which is getting harder by the second.

"Ari?" I see her lying on my bed, at my side breathing steady. Seeing her curled up tugs at my heart with panic making its way.

Her chestnut hair cascades around my pillow, her skirt riding up slightly, revealing a glimpse of pink lace underwear. Her chest is rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. I'm tempted to reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. And so I do. I did it a while ago, and it felt nice.

Caught in a mind-spinning dilemma, I'm torn between giving the world a collective middle finger and letting Ariella stay over, captivated by her serene sleep, or kicking her butt out and getting ready for the impending party.

It's like a wrestling match in my head-do I risk her misconstruing the situation as something all sappy, like love and care, or do I maintain my tough exterior and shove her out the door? This is strictly physical, nothing more. Granted, I wouldn't cook a meal for just any random woman or drag her to get checked up. Hell, I wouldn't even bring another woman to my room!

Yet, here I am, doing all this for Ariella, because, well, she's my friend. My childhood friend.

My hand finds my hair, pulling and messing it up more-as if it wasn't already a mess from Ariella tugging at it. Changing my position since this one seems to give me an unnecessary boner.

Leaning on my thighs with my chin resting on my fist, I just stare at Ariella. Like, really stare. I must look like a total creep, but I can't help it.

She's got this porcelain skin that complements her chestnut hair. Those long lashes frame her high cheekbones, a straight nose, and those lush, pink lips-so small and perfectly shaped. The tiny freckles on her face are like little constellations. Midnight blue nail polish graces her fingers, rings adding to the allure. Bracelets adorn both wrists. And that scent-Jasmine mixed with a hint of my cologne-does things to my senses. The mere thought of anyone watching her sleep like this stirs the dark side that Ariella awakens, the side that responds only to her.

It's unfamiliar territory for me, caught in this kind of predicament where I have to choose between two options. Dad always said, "When in doubt, follow your heart." Yet, here I am, hesitating to tune into that advice.

Allowing Ariella to stay over might not exactly be a disaster for me, but it's a potential red-alert situation for her feelings. Let's face it, I'm not exactly easy to resist. I usually strive for people's affection, but I'm not looking to become the center of a love drama here.

There's something about Ariella's love that feels... different. It seems to come with its own fine print and, honestly, I'm not equipped to handle that level of emotional fine print. It's like signing up for a marathon when you're used to a leisurely stroll in the park-definitely not my speed.

I gather Ariella's belongings and scoop her up, cradling her knees and arms in my arms as I head towards the door. I cautiously peek around, the coast seems clear-Lan's stuck in his room, probably engrossed in some plotting saga. So, there I am, dashing through the house like a secret agent with Ariella bundled up in my arms, her stuff swaying like a backpacker's dream.

Surprisingly, no surprisingly, your lordship has a very vigorous workout, thank you very much. But there isn't a single bead of sweat that graces my forehead or heavy breathing. I mean it isn't exactly a prime sweating season, but seriously, carrying a grown woman should count as a workout, right? Though, for a moment, I almost forgot she was in my arms-almost, if not for the "accidental" brush against her chest.

Bit of an exaggeration there, Remi.

Don't care, as long as the point hits home, brain.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I rev up the car and zoom off to her place. Ari shares an apartment with her friends, Alicia and-yep, my sister, Tempest.

They ought to be home by now. Guess I'll have to wake her up by the time we hit the doorstep.

By the time I reach home, not only there is a weight on my heart and around my neck, but the party has also ended.