Obsessed with Me - When she rejected him, he set out to destroy her - book 1 by Eve Rabi Read Free Book Online

face.
    I throw him an annoyed glare before I look away.
    The sniggers float around me. It’s hard to pretend like it doesn’t bother me, but I try. 
    The sunny and airy dining room overlooks the pool, the entertainment area and the water. It is ultra-modern, with white, leather high-back chairs and a ten-seater glass, dining table. Off white porcelain floor tiles gives the place a beach house feel, an upmarket one, which is what it is. Way more than a holiday house.
    Three pearly, pendant lights descend from the ceiling and hover over the dining table. The décor is so modern and hi-tech, that it confuses me as to how an oaf like Tarago could have such great taste. It looks like a page out of the home décor magazine. I have to assume that he had an interior decorator. No way could a moron like him have such amazing taste.
    At the table are the three blondes – Hanlie, Anneline and Erika. Pretty girls in their twenties.
    Also at the table is Jooste, (who I later learn is Tarago’s half-brother) and another guy they call Vermuelen.
    “ Praat jy Afrikaans ? (Do you speak Afrikaans?)” Jooste asks.
    “No, she say it’s the oppressor’s language!” Tarago answers.
    Jooste jerks back in his chair.
    Man, I feel like shooting Tarago.
    “Waaaat?” Erika shrieks. “Is not foking true!” She looks to her other blondes for backup.
    “Is not,” Hanlie confirms after thinking about it for a moment.
    “Mff,” Anneline spits in Afrikaans, “Who does she think she is?”
    All eyes are now on me and I colour under their scrutiny.
    “Foking stuck up bitch,” Anneline mutters.
    “Is that a fact now?” Jooste asks, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes sweep over me. “Oppressor, hey?”
    I don’t answer.
    Charlene and Julia quietly serve brunch.
    “Can I get coffee?” Anneline asks, rattling her knife against her glass.
    “ Seker Mejuffro (sure miss),” Julia says, while Charlene runs to fetch the pot of coffee.
    “Can I also get some too, please?” I say to Julia.
    With her lips pressed together, Julia pours coffee into a cup and places it so hard on the table; it spills onto the saucer, the tablecloth and my white top. “There you go,” she says in a saccharine voice. 
    I look up the mess around me, the spills of coffee on my white top, then at her.
    In a bar, the look she gives me would precipitate a brawl.
    With an inward groan of frustration, I silently empty the coffee from my saucer into my coffee cup and sip on it while they continue discussing me in Afrikaans.
    “And…and …” Tarago lifts up a finger, “she doesn’t swear, wear a bikini, smoke or drink much.”
    Everybody looks at him, then burst out laughing.
    I look at the steak knife I’m holding and indulge in a brief but satisfying fantasy of me stabbing Tarago. It would be messy but oh, so satisfying.
    “You don’t swear?” Erika asks, eyeing me with disbelief.
    I shake my head.
    “Why not?”
    “Because, I don’t need to. I have a fairly good command of the English language and I don’t need to resort to profanity.”
    “Stick up her arse,” someone mutters, while the others look at me as if I grew a beard on the spot. Maybe I asked for that.
    “So, do you know how to make a drie-hooke, coolie cookie ?” Jooste asks. “A …” he snaps his fingers, “samoosa, that’s it. Do you know how to make a samoosa?”
    Ooooh boy!
    “Do you know all the positions in the Karma Sutra?” Jooste continues.
    I glare at Jooste. “Stop, will you?”
    He laughs.
    “Hey, can you Bollywood?” Erika yells from across the table, then touches each elbow and bobs in her chair. The other two blondes and Tarago all join her and burst out laughing.
    More questions fly. Stupid questions.
    “Do you speak Indian?”
    “Where is your sari?”
    “Does any of your family member’s wear big diapers like Ghandi did?”
    “Where is your dot?” Points at forehead.
    “Does your dot light up when you get angry?”
    “It is a