Liam:Lucky SOB.
Mike:I’m just ordering pizza.
Greg:No, you’re not. You will not just feed our sisters pizza like you’re running a frat house.
My little sisters scampered into the living room.
“We’re ready for the big reveal!”
Tess held out a blindfold. She was barefoot, and there was a bit of paint in her hair.
“No peeking,” she instructed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. The motion made her tits jiggle in a way that made me want her to show me more than the décor.
My assistant grabbed me and pulled me forward so she could tie the blindfold around my eyes.
“Sometimes I like to make things a little kinky,” she whispered in my ear.
Scratch what I had thought earlier—there was no way Tess was just doing this as her job description.
Her hand was warm and smaller in mine as she led me down the hallway. The door to the master suite opened, and Tess put a hand on the small of my back to guide me in.
I wish we were doing that in bed.
I shook myself.
“Ready?” Tess said and untied the blindfold. “Voilà!”
I had been preparing myself to be polite about the interior design. It was the thought that counted. On the rare occasions my siblings or I had tried to do something for our father, he had always been so dismissive, finding fault in every single thing. I was determined to break the cycle, even if I needed to take an acting class to do so.
But I didn’t need to fake how impressed I was.
“Wow,” I said, looking around.
“Do you like it?” Tess asked, clasping her hands together.
The formerly bright white bedroom had been repainted a dark charcoal, including the ceiling. One of the walls had an almost shimmery black wallpaper that added some visual interest to the room. Tess had replaced the bed I had brought back from my old condo with a minimalist king bed. On both sides were two white birch floating nightstands that were attached to the wall.
“I was going for masculine Scandinavian,” Tess explained as I slowly walked around the room, taking in the sitting area with a leather wingback chair, an ottoman, and a wood-and-steel coffee table.
The bathroom had an offbeat hexagon tile on one wall. The tile folded up onto the ceiling over the freestanding tub. Several of the small concrete vases she had bought earlier that day had been potted with succulents and arranged on the vanity counter.
“Isn’t it great?” she gushed, adjusting one of the concrete vases a millimeter over.
“I’m amazed,” I told her frankly.
“You can’t use the tub just yet,” she said. “The tile grout is still curing, but you can totally take Instagram pictures. Oh, wait until you see the study!”
We walked through the door into the large study that was adjacent to the master bedroom. She had moved the chess table into a corner and flanked it with two comfortable leather chairs. The room had been painted a rich deep blue, darker than navy. She had added a mahogany shelving unit along one wall and had my scotch collection arranged at one end with matching glasses on a crystal tray.
Instead of the chrome-and-glass desk I used to have, the room now held a rich mahogany desk that was much bigger, and that I could really spread out on. Displayed on one of the corners were several pictures of me and my brother and me and the girls.
I smiled and picked them up.
“The girls helped pick out all the photos,” she said.
“I love it,” I told her honestly, my voice catching slightly. “Thank you. This is probably the nicest, most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you, Enola and Annie.”
They wrapped their arms around me.
