There were already so many rumors going on about us back in spring. People began whispering, thinking it was strange that a stepbrother and stepsister lived together when they’re both of age to live alone. I doubt Dacre knows anything about those rumors, though.
He’s all about his work while I’m the one socializing. Then again, Dacre probably wouldn’t care what they say but I do. I do care because I was raised to treat my reputation like it was a commodity. It’s all I’ve ever known.
“Princess,” Dacre rasps, stressing me and I suck my cheeks in from nervousness. “I’m waiting for you to tell me what you can give me in return.”
Dragging an inhale so fast I snort, I ignore his question and walk over to the window. “Look at those trees. Don’t they move so nicely in the wind?” I whisper nervously. “Like they’re waltzing...,” I trail off, realizing that Dacre probably couldn’t care less about my random observations but then I catch the look on his face in the window.
He looks...peaceful. The tense muscle on his face easing, his broad shoulders sinking...
For once Dacre, actually looks huggable and I want to wrap myself around him and use him as a human pacifier. Too anxious to tell him I’m ready to offer up my body, I decide to just discreetlyshowhim.
It’s harder than it seems and I feel like every spotlight in the world is on me when I turn my focus to a marble bust representing a half-naked female with no head and a sarong around her hips. “What’s her name?” I whisper but then curse myself.
What kind of a question is that?
Even Dacre seems taken off guard and rasps, “She doesn’t have one.”
Giving him what I hope is a sultry smile, I toy with my skirt to make it flare and that sharpens Dacre’s attention because he leans forward. Yes it’s working! I’m not the complete disaster I thought I’d be and I straighten with newfound confidence.
“Maybe her name could be Greta,” I murmur, “or princess?”
Dacre doesn’t say anything but the hot look in his eyes turns into lava and I gulp when my skin’s beginning to feel like I’m about to be thrown into a volcano. Letting out a breathy laugh, I add, “Her breasts are naked.”
My stepbrother clears his throat and I want to kick myself. Obviously he can see that she’s naked but for some reason, I can’t stop myself. “And they’re so perky...,” I continue and I don’t know where I’m going with this, “and she has no head. Or eyes or mouth...”
I need to be quiet. It started out okay but now I’m just making it worse and mild confusion colors Dacre’s eyes but he still seems interested and I pinch my lips, giving it one more try. “Maybe you need to give her a head,” I whisper, “or maybe it’s me who needs to give you h...head...”
What on earth am I doing...?
This is not working at all and I’m so embarrassed by my little performance that I rush out of the office but not before accidentally stepping on Baldur’s tail and he lets out an offended howl. Great! Add animal cruelty to the list of my specialties! Burying my face in my head, I groan with the notion that I don’t know how I’ll be able to come back from this.
If Dacre was willing to pay me earlier he sure won’t be willing anymore. I have no idea what I was blabbing about in there but I’m pretty certain I ruined everything. I could probably undress to just a candy thong and skimp right in front of Dacre and he’d politely decline.
My package may signal that I have all my ducks in a row but truth is that I’m an upper class catastrophe. Ladies and gents, I give you:The Simpleton Seductress aka. How Not To Seduce A Mobster.
*****
Dacre
Dragging a hand through my hair, I look at the closed door. What was that? It started out so damn sexy before she freaked out and ran like she had the devil himself chasing her. I glance at the bust and chuckle.
Despite what Greta may think, I more than enjoyed her little performance but now she’s gone. She’s not with me, like she’s supposed to be and I grab a pen, twirling it between my fingers. Her wariness of me is frustrating as hell. Letting out a curse, I drag my nails across the desk before pounding my fist in annoyance.
My need for her is something that shouldn’t be toyed with.
It’s not run-of-the-mill, it’s not fleeting and it sure as fuck isn’t comfortable walking around with a hard on all the time that I can’t get rid of no matter how many times I try taking care of it myself.
Letting out an impatient groan, I figure I got two choices. Either I leave for the night and let the mob life take the edge off or I walk into Greta’s room and slide into bed with her like I did yesterday. In the end the latter choice wins.
Trailing down the dark hallway, I turn the knob and as expected Greta’s fast asleep. A smirk curves my mouth and I walk inside, gently closing the door behind me. Her curtains aren’t completely drawn and the room not as dark as it would be if they were.
She’s knocked out flat on her stomach, her one arm lingering below the edge of the bed and I want to tuck her in. She’s the apple of my eye. The one thing I care about above all. If the choice was between her on my brother in the mafia, she’d always win.
And thing is that even if she doesn’t know it, Greta needs someone like me in her life. Her mother’s selfish, her father dead and she has no siblings or other close relatives. Who else would watch over her, if not me?
“My Greta,” I whisper in the dark, my voice filling with emotion and desire but she doesn’t awaken. I wonder what she dreams about. I dream about her all the fucking time. I used to keep a gun underneath my pillow in the past but these days I got a photo of Greta instead.
Weapons used to soothe the restlessness I’d feel in my veins but now Greta does that for me.