Page 59 of Tarnished Reign

I'm trying hard to follow her logic here.

“You know, so that the men wouldn't think you were hot.” She laughs loudly. “I hadn't met you then, and obviously if I had I would have realized that nothing was going to stop them from thinking you were hot. It was a cunning plan, though, right?” She grins at me. “So anyway, that was my plan. Lots of grown-up, very expensive and very boring clothing. Not sexy. Then I saw the way my brother was looking at you today.”

Her words jolt me. Now I’m interested. “How was he looking at me?” I can't stop myself from asking. I want to know what she saw in his face. After all, she knows him.

She giggles. “Oh, he looked at you like it was a hot summer day and you were a huge melting ice cream. Just in case you're not aware of what I mean by that, my brother loves ice cream. That man eats nothing but protein, and he hasn't touched anything with sugar in it for years, except for ice cream. It's the one thing he can't resist. You're his ice cream.”

“I am?” I ask.

“Girl, he wants to lick you all over and go back for seconds.”

I giggle in shock at that. I'm quite surprised she's talking about her brother that way.

“I’m glad,” she says passionately. “He needs to settle down. He needs to have a baby or something. Otherwise, he’s just going to get old and bitter. I mean, once he gets to forty, nobody's going to look at him. Doesn't matter how much he works out in the gym; he's just going to be an old man.”

“I don't think forty makes someone an old man, does it?”

“Absolutely it does. You become invisible. I read about it.” She shudders. “Hopefully, before I get anywhere near that point, they’ll have a drug that stops aging.”

“I'm not sure that your brother would be classed as a normal man.”

“He might let himself go and develop a dad bod,” she says.

I laugh at the very thought. From what I’ve seen of his physique, I can’t imagine it.

“Either way, he needs to find himself a wife. Plus, I really want to be an auntie.”

“I don't think he looks at me like he’d have a baby with me,” I say. My head is spinning. Nataliya is a lot!

“Not yet he doesn't. He's still at the ice cream stage. But no one else has been at that stage with him. Or, at least, none that I've ever seen. I'm sure he must have had sex or something.” She shudders. “After all, he's a man.” She rolls her eyes as if in despair. “He's never brought anybody here, though. He's never demanded that I go buy a woman a load of clothes. He's never, ever, ever left anyone with our family to have lunch. And he’s never, triple ever kissed a woman on the head like she’s precious to him.” She smirks proudly, watching me intently.

“Do you want to be his ice cream?” she asks.

“I think I like him.” I feel my face burning.

“Oh my God, your blush is the cutest thing I've ever seen.”

“Right.” She claps her hands and looks around her closet. “We need to get you looking so hot that he's going to be dragging his tongue on the kitchen floor when he comes home. Like a dog.” She says the last bit with such emphasis it makes me laugh.

“Let me think.” She eyes me up and down. “Quite slim like me, but you have a lot more going on up here.” She mimics holding her breasts. Then she glares at my hips as if they’ve personally slighted her. “Curvier hips too. I don't think my pants are going to fit you. But my skirts and dresses might.”

She rummages through the racks of dresses. “No, not your color. Now let's see.” She stares at me critically. “You're on the cool end of the color spectrum. But I can't tell if you're a full winter or possibly a summer. I'm not enough of an expert, but you're cool. It's a little bit of a problem because I'm warm. I do have some cooler clothes, though, which will suit your complexion, I think.”

I have no idea what she's talking about right now, but as she pulls a few dresses from the rack, I stand back and let her get on with it. After all, I'm going to need an ally for my time spent in this crazy world, and maybe she could be a friend of sorts.

She holds a few dresses against my skin. She must find one that suits me because she gasps in delight.

“This is perfect. This looks beautiful against you. Right, let's get you into this dress.”

It’s a gorgeous, dusky pink, and I smile until I glance at the label. “I can't wear your Christian Dior dress. What if I spill something on it? I'm supposed to be eating lunch.” My palms get sweaty. “I can’t eat lunch in a Christian Dior dress. Do you know how clumsy I am? God, no. Sorry.”

She raises her hands in the air. “I never wear it,” she says. “I've literally never worn it. I think I bought it for a dance, but it didn't really suit me. Probably because it's a cool shade, and I'm warm, you see. You really should try and buy according to your color palette. But I only learned about that this year.”

I stand stock still in absolute fear of ruining this beautiful dress until she claps her hands. “Come on; get out of your clothes.”

Is this what growing up with unlimited wealth does for a person? Turns them into a force of nature?

I'm a little bit shy getting undressed in front of her because I don’t have a bra, so when I pull the tank off, I’ll be braless, but she's another girl, so I push it to one side and take my clothes off until I'm standing in my panties.

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