DEADLY DECEPTION

CHAPTER 20

Avery's POV

Before I could react, Rick straightened up, his gaze locking onto mine with a hint of a smirk that left me breathless. I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself, my throat suddenly dry. I quickly lifted the bouquet I was still holding to hide my face and followed the group into the kitchen.

Bryce was busy grabbing plates and glasses from the cabinet, while Fred and George opened the boxes of food on the kitchen island. As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, George walked over to me with a bright smile, gently taking the bouquet from my hands and guiding me to sit on one of the stools.

"Sit here, Avery," he said cheerfully, pulling out a stool for me.

I sat down, still trying to process the whirlwind of events. Before I could even get my bearings, Bryce set a plate and glass in front of me, and Fred immediately added two slices of pizza and some chocolates onto my plate. He poured a drink for me with a flourish, as if this was a normal thing to do.

I blinked, looking up at the three of them with wide eyes, completely bewildered by their sudden and strangely attentive actions.

Why were they treating me like some sort of guest of honour?

I glanced over at Thomas, who was leaning against the counter, smiling slightly with pursed lips, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

The three of them stood side by side on the other side of the island, grinning at me like a trio of mischievous schoolboys. Bryce raised his eyebrows, nodding towards my plate.

"Go on, eat up," he encouraged.

I gave them a suspicious look but decided to play along. Picking up a slice of pizza, I took a cautious bite, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. As I chewed, Rick strolled into the kitchen, casually taking a seat right next to me on the left.

I did a double-take when I realized this was the first time I'd seen him dressed down in a simple black shirt that hugged his chest and biceps, paired with grey sweatpants. It was a far cry from his usual polished look, and I had to admit, it suited him a little too well.

My mind started to wander, imagining what might be hidden under that shirt. His muscles flexed subtly with each movement, hinting at a fit body that was somehow both alluring and intimidating. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to run my hands over his chest, to feel the strength hidden beneath the fabric.

I felt my face heat up when I caught myself staring, but before I could look away, Rick glanced over, his eyes meeting mine. I quickly choked on my pizza, turning my head sharply to avoid his gaze, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Fred immediately leaned forward, grabbing the drink he'd just poured and handing it to me, even though it was already right in front of me.

"Here, drink this," he said, his voice soft with concern.

I took the glass from him, grateful for the distraction, and sipped the juice while keeping my eyes on Fred, doing my best to ignore the fact that Rick was sitting so close. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn't quite figure out if it was from the surprise of all this attention or from the unsettling truth that Rick actually knew I had eavesdropped on his conversation. The realization sent a shiver through me, and I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable under his knowing gaze.

Rick leaned in a bit closer as he spoke with a mocking edge, his straight face betraying none of his amusement.

"Enjoying the view, are we?"

I froze mid-sip, the juice almost spilling from my glass as I pursed my lips, trying to compose myself. A tingle of awareness shot through me, my skin prickling at his nearness. I took a deep breath, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks.

When I risked a quick side glance, I found Rick slightly smirking, his gaze roaming over his pizza. I scanned the room, my eyes lingering on everyone who was now engrossed in their meal, blissfully unaware of the charged atmosphere between us.

Without warning, Rick stood up and leaned across me to reach for the drink. His arm brushed against mine, sending a sharp, electrifying sensation through my body. The scent of his cologne—a heady mix of musk and spice—flooded my senses, causing my breath to hitch. The proximity was overwhelming, his body so close I could almost feel the heat radiating from him.

My pulse quickened, and my skin tingled with the intensity of the moment. The way he moved, so deliberately close, made it impossible to ignore the raw, magnetic pull between us. As he leaned in, the space between us shrank, and I was pretty sure that he could almost feel my breath against his neck.

Rick finally pulled back, taking his seat with a casual ease, but his smirk remained, knowing and teasing. He tilted his head slightly, raising the drink in his hand as if toasting to me. His gaze held mine, his eyes glinting with a mixture of satisfaction and challenge.

I couldn't help but scoff softly, trying to mask the undeniable heat rising to my cheeks. My heart raced, and I turned my attention back to my food, focusing on eating quietly. But the lingering sensation of his touch and the intensity of his gaze left me with a lingering, uncomfortable tension that was impossible to ignore.

I cleared my throat as I finished the last bite of my pizza, the lingering taste of cheese and tomato blending pleasantly.

George looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, "Dessert time!"

Fred's eyes sparkled with mischief as he pointed his finger at George and echoed, "Yes!"

Without missing a beat, Bryce opened the freezer and pulled out a tub of ice cream. He scooped generous portions into a small bowl and handed it to me with a spoon.

"We didn't know which flavour you like, so we went with chocolate. Figured we couldn't go wrong with that."

I managed a nervous smile as I took the bowl from him.

"Chocolate is great, actually. But my favourite is coffee with dark chocolate."

Bryce nodded approvingly as I dug into the ice cream. The rich, creamy chocolate flavour was a comforting treat amidst the chaos of the evening.

As I enjoyed the dessert, I couldn't help but notice that Thomas had been unusually quiet the entire time. Deciding to break the silence, I turned to him.

"Rick never mentioned you before."

Thomas leaned in slightly and whispered in Italian, ensuring it was loud enough for Rick to hear.

"Quel bastardo non ama parlare di me con nessuno." (That asshole doesn't like to talk about me to anyone.)

Without missing a beat, I replied in Italian, "È davvero un bastardo," (He sure is an asshole) my voice carrying a mix of amusement and solidarity.

The room erupted into a chorus of gasps and clattering sounds. It was Rick's time to choke on his pizza, his eyes locked onto mine in a mix of shock and disbelief. His face turned crimson as he struggled to swallow, looking at me with wide, incredulous eyes.

Meanwhile, George, who had been mid-drink, suddenly coughed up his beverage, sputtering as he tried to regain his breath. Fred's slice of pizza slipped from his hand, landing with a loud thud on his plate. Bryce fumbled, dropping the ice cream scooper onto the counter with a clatter. 

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A short chapter this time, but I hope you enjoy it!

Fun fact: This chapter was penned in the laundry area of my campus—proof that inspiration can strike anywhere, even amidst the spin cycle! 🤣🤣

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