“Oh. That.” Relief flashed over her face, and it put him on edge because he knew it was real. She was relieved, and he didn’t fucking get it.
“My aunt wants to eat,” she answered simply. “But she can’t because she has her figure to maintain. And I get it. And I sympathize.”
How perfectly straightforward.
And if it were anyone else, he would have thought it was all a load of b.s.
But because it was his little mouse saying the words—
Was she for real?
Or was she just a better actress than he gave her credit for?
Didn’t matter either way.
He had already made up his mind.
She was to be his toy, regardless of her level of innocence...or deception.
Paul turned his gaze back to his little mouse, and his lips almost curved when he saw that she had gone back to eating. Everything about her was a delight to study. The delicate bones of her wrists. How she bit her bottom lip when concentrating. The way that ponytail exposed the vulnerable line of her neck.
The same neck he’d wanted to mark last night.
Still wanted to mark.
She looked up suddenly, catching him staring.
Pink spread across her cheeks.
“Do I have something on my face?”
Yes. Innocence. And he was going to corrupt every inch of it.
Teach her exactly what kind of games grown-ups played.
“No.”
She touched her cheek anyway. Those small fingers that had pressed against his chest. That had trembled when he’d caught them.
This was the scene Joyce walked back to.
Paul Mitropoulos, who never looked at anyone twice, unable to stop watching her niece.
He was still smiling.
That particular smile Joyce had seen perhaps three times in all the years she’d known him. The one he wore when he’d found something to occupy his attention. Some hopeless case to defend. Some tedious charity work that kept him from being bored.
Her gaze shifted to her niece. The girl had gone back to eating, clearly trying to be invisible. That cheap dress. The SaveMart manners. Hair that screamed small-town salon.
Paul always did like his charity cases pathetic, and it was just her luck that her ugly little country mouse of a niece fit the bill to a T.
She slid back into her seat and smiled at her niece. “I’m so glad you came to visit.”
“Thank you for being so welcoming.”
“But of course, darling. That’s what family’s for.” And before this day came to an end, she would make sure that her worthless family would finally do her some good.
The rest of lunch passed pleasantly. Joyce played the doting aunt while Paul appeared amused by the girl’s shameless ability to work her way through the entire dessert table. He had that look—the white knight expression that appeared whenever he found something broken to fix.
