Page 36 of Deceitful Promises

But my thoughts won’t listen. It’s like my body acts on autopilot. Or is that an excuse?

Whatever. My hand’s on my rock-hard prick, and I’m stroking. Eyes shut tight, I see Ania in her ballet gear, a hole in the white leggings to reveal her glistening wetness. In the fantasy, she moans and bounces, grinding up and down, letting me dominateher. Own her. She knows I’m the only man who will ever touch her. Just me. Fuck. I’m pumping harder now.

Just me. Only me. Just me. Only me.

I bend her over, her ass aimed at me, and then she glides up and down my dick and?—

Come explodes out of my dick. More and more and more of it. I imagine it flooding into her body, her eyes widening as her release grips her.

Then it’s over. I let my hand drop. My dick turns limp. A wave of guilt smashes into me. She’s too young. Too innocent. Too lost. Too broken. I have to be the mature one. I have to maintain control.

After cleaning up, I promise myself I won’t do that again. I know what a lie feels like, and this is one. I’m already tempted to do it right now. My dick’s hardening as I get dressed for dinner. I want her hand wrapped around my base so damn badly, with her lips kissing my tip. Then, after, I’d lie in bed with her, hold her, talk about everything, nothing, just talking for its own sake.

CHAPTER 16

ANIA

We eat in a small dining room, with marble statues in each corner and soft orange lights dotted around the walls. I sayweeat, but I mostly nibble at the edges of my pasta. Theodore and Mom don’t seem to notice, but Aiden glances at me occasionally, his serious face tight, his eyes angry. I bet he wants to say something.

Molly and Theodore talk about a recent shopping trip. Mom jokes about being a shopaholic, but it all feels slightly forced. Maybe it’s the tension in the air, knowing I might have to leave tomorrow. I shouldwantto go.

“She doesn’tjustshop,” Theodore says, looking lovingly at my mom. After learning what happened to her—what, gulp, what my dad did to her—seeing her with such a supportive husband means the world to me. Even if this same husband might go to war with my brothers. Remind me how life got so complicated again?

“You sing too, right, Mom?” I say.

Mom’s face lights up as though she’s surprised. I’m unsure if it’s because I called her mom or because I remember what we talked about earlier. I’ll never forget a single word of my first actual conversation with my mom!

“Sometimes … alone, where no one can hear me,” she laughs. “I think it’s better that way.”

“Don’t be silly,” I say. “I think you sounded amazing.”

Theodore and Aiden snap around to stare at me, their eyes wide. Mom is suddenly looking down at the table, her cheeks turning red as if I’ve said something wrong.

“What?” I ask, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, feeling the hard wood digging into my sit bones.

“She never sings for anybody,” Theodore mutters, almost with awe in his voice, almost jealously. “In all the years we’ve known each other … how many times, dear? Once?”

“That was too much champagne,” Mom mutters.

“Nobody, Ania,” Aiden says.

“It was so beautiful,” I say, thinking back to earlier when she stood with her hand on her stomach, her angelic voice filling the room, almost a whisper to it, like she was telling me a secret. “It seemed so effortless.”

“With you, maybe,” Theodore says. “With herdaughter. That’s amazing, Molly. Wow. Just wow!”

“We’ve spent too long apart,” Mom says, finally looking back up at me. “When you asked to hear me sing, I couldn’t say no, even if I wasverynervous.”

“Aw, Mom.” I have a feeling there might be tears in my eyes. “It was beautiful.”

“Thisis beautiful,” Theodore says, raising his glass. “Mother and daughter reunited.”

“I just wish I’d done it sooner,” Mom whispers, raising her glass.

“Me too,” I whisper, and Mom flinches like I’ve hit her. What does she want me to do, lie? Does she want me to pretend I was happy to live my life without a mother?

“To new beginnings,” Theodore goes on.

Aiden raises his glass, too, but I can feel him looking at me. There’s a question in his intense eyes. I don’t let myself look at him long enough for him to read any answer.

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