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6: Gian

I COULD hear the happy sound of her laughter and I hadn’t felt relief for a long time.

It had been awkward and solemn in the days following that scandalous incident with Shiela, mostly because I had been too guilty and ashamed and she, I could just imagine, had so many questions to ask but wouldn’t dare do.

I fucked up. That was the truth. And I knew it.

But she hadn’t laughed like that for a while.

I hope it continues this way.

She really liked that red dress and she looked so good in it, too. I knew I was over-reacting. But I didn’t like Elise on something as daring as this cocktail dress. She looked so good. I could just—

Stop.

My mind felt all muddled. I couldn’t be thinking like this.

I didn’t need this. I was already so biased, what with the way I favored her?

Elise had a special place in my heart. She was the little girl I was most fond of when I was a little man in love with the widow Rosamia von Schiller—the very first love of my life.

I was so glad Elise was too young to remember the teasing of the adults whenever I visited them with my parents.

I cried a bucket when Rose married Jess a long way back.

Now, I feared Rosamia.

You tend to do that when you become the caretaker of the cub of a tigress.

And she was the most protective mother hen I had ever met in my life.

I casually looked down so I could see her in the periphery of my vision and I made an effort not to see her with unbiased eyes. At least, she wasn’t showing cleavage. That’s a big relief.

I was calmer, and I pulled my elbow from her grip to reach behind her and guide her as we went out of the doors of the foyer of the building.

I felt skin.

I pulled my hand back as if I was burned. “What the fu—dge!”

She jumped and looked at me. “What?”

“Why is your back naked?!”

She started to look everywhere but at me and her cheeks began to show a nice shade of color, so I remembered that although we were in a deserted lobby, there were nightshift guards standing by the door.

The idiots abruptly turned away when they saw me looking darkly at them, because I saw the grin on their faces.

I gulped what I was going to say next and instead, held her elbow. “Let’s get to the car.”

Elise obeyed silently, but I didn’t like the firmness in the way she had her lips closed.

I was right. She remained quiet.

Until we were inside the car.

“Why are you angry again? What’s wrong with my back?”

Mang Karding, my driver, was behind the wheel. The car was already moving out of the parking lot and we were both sitting in the backseat. She was turning her head sideways to see her back.

“Is my back dirty? Did it look bad? Alia said I looked fine when I wore it last night so she could see.”

Alia was her childhood best friend who lived with her in her three-bedroom apartment. Jason, her cousin, lived on the lowest floor. The building was just one of the real estate properties Rosamia invested in and she had this one building emptied for her daughter.

I found myself gritting my teeth again like earlier, when I saw that the slits on the sides of her skirt were higher up her thighs than I felt comfortable with.

Her back looked fine. In fact, now that I could see her from that angle, it looked terrific.

She looked elegant, beautiful and—alright!—sexy as hell.

Bad news for me, as she was what I was trying to run away from. I couldn’t see her like this, being okay and not feeling dirty.

I only had to take care of her. Beyond that, I couldn’t survive it.

“It doesn’t look proper on you. Please, let your hair down and cover it.”

I instantly felt the heaviness of her reproachful look. “Your mom’s hairstylist did my hair according to her specific instructions.”

I could hear her next words even though she didn’t say it.

Don’t dick around with my hair.

Not that Elise would use those exact words, but it would be what she’d mean.

But I’m not my mother, damn it!

And I could feel the painful locking of my jaws as I pictured men watching her sexy back while she walked around in the party, wanting a chance to hold her skin, seeing so much of her body just because of a part of an exposed skin, bringing her home to their bed tonight, fucking her in their dreams.

I’d know exactly what their faces would look like as they fantasized about her, how nice it would be to hold her tiny waist as she ground her round hips above—

Goddammit!

I realized that she was watching me closely and I turned away, alarmed that she might see what I was thinking on my face.

“Alright, alright! I’ll let my hair down. Don’t have a heart attack, okay?”

She was right. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack.

I watched her pull the pins off her hair. I wanted to help, but I remained in my seat, sitting like a stupid, frozen mannequin.

For some reason, I felt nervous about touching her.

I gulped as I watched soft strands falling down her elegant shoulders, covering at least half of her back. I desperately wanted to touch her hair.

And images flooded my head, and I couldn’t stop them even if I tried hard.

I closed my eyes, seeing her doing this while she sat on my bed… hair falling around her beautiful face down her elegant, naked shoulders… her naked back… which was a delicious part of her very naked body.

I could see the sweet, sensuous smile on her lips, the flush of arousal on her full, wet, and cherry-red lips…

No one had perfected that smile before.

No one but…

I looked out the window.

“Is it really that bad?” I heard her ask me in a small voice.

Don’t think. Don’t think and see and imagine Trina. Don’t remember, damn it!

“How do I look now?” she persisted.

I reluctantly looked back at her, carefully looked her over, not letting her see through my face that she shouldn’t even have to ask.

And also praying she wouldn’t look down and see my boner.

“That looks… better,” I replied. My mom’s going to kill me.

I saw disappointment pass through her face, but she would never know the disgust I felt for myself.

I sighed and looked out my window again instead of facing her to tell her the truth.

That at that moment, she was the most beautiful, desirable woman I had ever met.

I’m such an asshole, and I’m in big, fucking trouble.

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