Dear Husband (Sinner's Society:ONE) REWRITING***

Chapter 15.

As the discussion progressed, I payed half mind to my crew. I was distracted and after getting no response from the boy, I got up and borrowed the salt and then the pepper. He handed them over to me without a glance in my direction. I touched his hand in our last exchange, stroking the soft skin with my thumb but it seemed to give me more of a rush than it did him. Did I behave like a creepy pervert? Even if I did it wasn't my fault. Why the hell wasn't the kid looking at me?

Later I figured out the kid was Robert Guzmán's long lost daughter's son. I doubted it. And why not. Even though Guzmán was Addison's second Consigliere and sometimes envious of Tanner, the man had a aloof demeanor. He was a very rare case in my experience. I don't know if there are others like him. He was founded by my grandfather Arthur and he called his type zero, who can resist mental manipulation.

And like all of us, the Guzmáns believed in protecting the bloodline. I doubted his long lost sister's blonde son was a joyous addition to the family. So it didn't add up well.

Had Guzmáns kidnapped the book-boy for extorting money? Giving up children was not new in my world. I've seen enough parents give up their kids, if they have more than one, to pay debts or to save their miserable asses.

The boy lived with Guzmán's mother Rosa Guzmán and the waitress, Cindy, was the boy's nanny of sorts. And she became my target.

A week after the discovery I became the diner's daily customer and began talking with Cindy, hoping that maybe the book-boy would look up, but all it did was Cindy gushing over me.

Irritated after a gushing episode, I left that diner as Luke patted on his belly and that night, in my bed, I couldn't get the book-boy out of my mind. I couldn't touch his mind but I realised he had somehow touched mine somehow. Or why else would I think about him. A whole fucking week. He was this little worm eating way my grey matter.

After two weeks of avoiding the diner like plague,  I went back and discreetly watched him read his books or fiddle in his laptop, paying no attention to anyone not even the jocks that were determined to make him cry. They teased his outdated and ill-fitted clothes and his horrible old laptop, but not until they tried to take his book, he paid them any mind.

His reaction was not to cry or beg for his book back, as I'd thought it would be. He did nothing more than pull out another and began reading. The book-boy with such a small gangly body didn't contain a single submissive bone. The flat, dry look he gave the jocks when they were messing around with him fascinated me. He was fascinating to me. Headstrong. A little Spitfire. I found myself doing whatever I could to learn about him.

I started dating Cindy because I enjoyed hearing about Paris. I found out the little family secret,  that Paris was, in fact, Robert's son. Ha! I knew something was not adding up.

After that nothing could have stopped me from moving headfirst. He was Robert's son. I knew Robert had a son but seeing Paris' non Latino appearance and his living arrangement it became clear to me Paris was either not his own son or his illegitimate son.

Cindy's memories didn't give me much clue either. All she knew was Paris was Robert's son.

I would visit Cindy to see Paris, to be near him. Not that he paid attention to me at all. That little thing had an attitude of an elephant and I was like a mouse in their house. Invisible.

Rosa Guzmán was someone I avoided at all cost. Like her son she was also zero. The coffin-dodger was stuck in a wheelchair, had a face of a pitbull ready to attack and harridan eyes.

When Rosa was wrapped peacefully in the arms of Morpheus, Cindy let me in through the kitchen door. Sex was of course part of the unspoken deal and I didn't mind. Cindy was a pretty girl, eager to please, gullible most the time, wasn't shy in bed and I had to blow of steam no-strings attached.