Desperate, I try to think of all sorts of unsexy things. Like Dad’s last birthday party with dick cannons and vagina balloons. Or how he got drunk and shoved his tongue down Mom’s throat at that party until he realized it was Mom and not the chick he was hoping to bang.
The former doesn’t do much, but the latter is fully effective.
When we reach the kitchen, a man in his late fifties is fiddling with an espresso machine. His hair is gray, but neatly trimmed in a style that flatters his narrow face, high cheekbones and deep-set brown eyes. His lips are set in a neutral line that hints at polished friendliness. A dark navy vest—buttoned to the top—is over a crisp white dress shirt. The creases on his pinstriped navy slacks are so sharp that even Grandma would approve, although she’d probably comment on his lack of tie.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Morning.” Luce smiles and picks up a toasted bagel. “Sebastian, meet Matthias.”
His eyes briefly catalog my ring, then he looks at me, his face unreadable. He’d make a good poker player. “Hello, sir.”
I nod, sizing him up. People only show their poker face when they don’t like you.
He serves two coffees, one for her and one for me. I take a sip of mine while Luce gets busy dumping sugar into her mug.
“Was your room comfortable?” The question is attentive on the surface, but there’s a slight undertone of disapproval. The man doesn’t like me. Probably he’s upset that Luce brought a stranger home to live with them.
Protective, aren’t you?“Very.”
Luce doesn’t seem to pick anything up from his tone. Maybe she can’t imagine her butler being anything but hospitable.
“I was surprised when Ms. Lucienne asked me to prep an extra bedroom.” All proper and staid. He could be discussing the weather.
Guess she didn’t tell the old man about her underhanded maneuvers. Or the justification we’ve agreed on to explain our separate bedrooms.
“Well, I—” Luce begins.
“Apparently, I snore,” I tell him with a small smile.
Luce shoots me a startled look.
Matthias’s eyebrows lift. “You do?” He draws out the words.
“Uh-huh. I guess I keep her up.” I give him my blandest smile, then glance at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze fixed on me.
The man considers my response, like he can’t decide if I’ve made a lurid joke or not. “Is there anything in particular you’d prefer for breakfast going forward?” he asks finally.
“Cheese omelets. French toast. Pancakes. Bagels or English muffins, toasted. Not all at once. As long as I have something in my belly before leaving the house, I’m actuallynottoo particular.”
I down my coffee, filch a bagel from the plate in front and heap a ton of cream cheese on it. I finish the whole thing in a few bites, while Luce nibbles hers, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin like a proper lady. Grandma would definitely approve.
Is that how Luce convinced my family she isn’t a mere scandal maker? I love my family, but I’m not blind to their flaws. If they had to choose between substance and polish, it’d be the latter all day long. Appearance and pride are everything to them.
After Luce and I finish breakfast, we head to our separate bedrooms to shower and get ready for another busy day before the weekend. I need to attend an extra meeting this afternoon that was rescheduled from yesterday. Afterward, I’m seeing my brothers for dinner, which should be fun. Despite our busy schedules, we try to get together for a meal at least twice a month.
I check my emails and texts, don’t see anything urgent and start heading downstairs. Luce emerges in a deep royal-blue dress with a modest circular neckline. The dress ends an inch above her knees, and she’s in a pair of silver stilettos that elongate her already endless legs.
I’ve never had a leg fetish, but I’m beginning to see the attraction. My mind pictures me throwing her supple legs over my shoulders, those stilettos still on, and…
No, no, no, no, no!I mentally recite the Ten Commandments in Latin. I can’t think about Dad and Mom again, because that would be cruel and unusual punishment.
We walk down the stairs together, me once again behind her. Her hair’s up in a topknot. I pin my gaze on the elegant line of her neck. It’s that or stare at her ass again, although that neck is eminently kissable…
Damn it.
“Is there anything special you want for dinner?” she asks.
“No,” I answer, happy for the distraction. “I’m meeting my brothers for dinner tonight.”
