Speaking of…
I smile as I finish applying my moisturiser.
Theo Westwood.
You want to act like you don’t care and that you like someone else? Then so will I. Two can play this game, and you will learn that Aldona always plays better.
And I know exactly what I’m going to do.
I just hope Sienna and Jayce can fix things, too, because the things I’ve heard about going into heat are not pleasant.
The bell ringsfor lunch, and I saunter into the dinner hall. It’s the next day, and I’m ready to play a little.
I have my hair up in a high ponytail, a few curls framing my face. I made my eyes a little smokier, with a touch of shimmer and eyeliner, and my lips are extra glossy.
I’m wearing one of my plaid pleated skirts. This one is a nice black and grey, with a black net ruffled underlayer for an extra bounce every time I move. I’ve paired it with sheer black stockings that reach mid-thigh, a few inches beneath my tiny skirt. And since we’re not training, I am not wearing shorts beneath my skirt today. I’ve paired it with a fitted black off-shoulder top with long, tight sleeves, and showing just a hint of cleavage with the strapless push-up bra I’m wearing. Who needs cleavage? This just makes me look even sexier.
High-heeled boots in a dark grey and my Schattenblüte belt complete it. My look is finished with a black choker necklacewith a metal ring at the centre and dangly dagger earrings.
All morning, I’ve had extra attention and some unwanted attention from Holden. I know he’ll be here; he usually is. Sienna isn’t here, and Allie said she’ll be spending lunch training, which makes it easier for me to be just a little extra.
“Looking good, Aldona,” one of the seniors says with a wink as he passes me by. I think he’s a third year.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I offer him a small smile. He seems surprised at that and smiles slowly, his eyes trailing over me for a second, and I turn away.
Then I sensehiseyes on me. Feeling them simmer against me.
Perfect.
Just loosen up a little and show him Heaven.
Alright. Phase one.
I reach for the salad, letting my hips sway just a fraction more than necessary. Effortlessly, innocently and of course, intentionally. My fingers drift over the salad bowls as I choose what to add to my plate. And then I ‘accidentally’ nudge one of the serving spoons, causing it to clatter to the floor.
In one smooth movement, I drop down to retrieve it. My skirt slides up my thighs, cool air brushing my skin as I keep my knees together, back straight, posture perfect, tray balanced easily in my other hand, as I pick up the spoon.
I rise, handing it to a staff member with a small, apologetic smile. He’s still watching me.
Sorry,I write, turning and pretending to scan the hall for a seat, and then I spot him.
He’s sitting at a table like he owns the room, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair, his boot propped on another. But it’s not the position that’s caught my attention; it’s the expression on his face.
There’s no cocky smirk, no raised eyebrow, or playfulness to it. Just piercing blue eyes that are locked on me with such intensity, it sends a shiver down my spine. It’s as if he can see right through me and doesn’t find it amusing.
And there you go, Westwood. You just proved me right. You feel something for me.
My heart skips a beat as I look away from him.
Phase one was supposed to simply annoy him, but as I walk towards a spare table, feeling his eyes following me, I realise I may have awoken the wolf.
I sit down at a table where he still can see my right-side profile, and I lean my elbow on the table, crossing my right leg over my left.
Phase two.
And…
Action.
