Page 30 of Sinful
I pick up the dress from the front desk and head straight back up. There’s no way Lucinda could have gotten past me, but I’ve learned not to take Lucinda Waldgrave at face value. I don’t trust the bitch one iota. The windows and doors are now locked and I don’t think she’ll be stupid enough to try anything after what happened to her the last time she tried to escape, but there’s no way I’m leaving anything up to chance where she’s concerned.
Still, I’m both surprised and relieved when I find her still in the apartment. She’s sitting exactly where I left her, still watching reruns. Scared as a church mouse. I need to keep her that way. The more scared she is, the less likely she is to screw everything up. As it is, I’m gambling on the fear of her father from making her open her mouth and blab. One fucking word and all of this is going to come down round our ears. I throw the garment bag at her and feel an enormous satisfaction when she flinches. With any luck, she’ll stay quiet all night. I’ll have to keep a tight rein on her, but if I can pass her off as my cousin, my new boss might not even notice what a fucking strange weirdo she is.
She scurries past me to her room. At least she’s not dressing in the living room anymore. Nix and Mercier aren’t here to ogle over her, but unlike them, I need to keep a modicum of decorum and some fucking self control. I’m not going to lose myself over her. She’s here to make me money, and that’s it.
I head to clean up the kitchen but find she’s already done it. All that’s left of her cereal lunch is a spot of milk that splashed onto the counter. I wipe the milk up quickly, pleased to see that it looks as clean as it did when we came here days ago. The quicker this shit is over, the better. If I do well enough at this dinner and ball, I might be able to afford my own apartment in Manhattan sooner than I planned. I eat the cereal quickly as I ruminate on how the hell I’m going to pull tonight off. It’s either going to be the launch-pad to success or an absolute fucking disaster.
“How do I look?”
I let out a low whistle and then check myself. Sheila outdid herself, but in doing that, she made Lucinda into someone that anyone with eyes wouldn’t be able to keep them away. Long white silk clings to her curves, almost like a second skin, showing everything off. Her nipples peak under the thin fabric that plainly shows the shape of her tits and, even more indecently, the slight v shape at the top of her legs. It’s obscene and positively filthy and though it covers her from shoulders to the floor, she might as well be naked.
“Put a fucking bra on, for fuck’s sake.”
“I can’t,” she stammers, bringing her arm across her chest. “You took mine.”
Fuck! I threw all of her stinking clothes she came in away with the plan to let her wear my mother’s. No bra of my mother’s would fit Lucinda. “You can’t come with me looking like that. You look like a whore.”
She doesn’t. Not in the same way she did when she was wearing the shit Mercier had brought her, but she didn’t look like someone I’m willing to take to the most prestigious event of the company’s year. “Don’t you models use tape to hold your nipples down or something?”
She runs her hand over her left breast, feeling herself brazenly. My cock twitches at the sight of her, sending a jolt of anger through me. She’s a fucking liability.
“I... I don’t have any tape.”
I don’t know if she’s doing it on purpose or if she really doesn’t know the effect that causes. She’s so damn pretty, but that side of her where she plays both innocent and sexual at the same time is fucking lethal. It’s what’s going to get us all put in jail. I cannot and will not fall for it the way Nix and Mercier have.
“I’ll get you something,” I snap, strolling past her and into my bedroom... my parents' room. I fling open my mother’s underwear drawer and try to find something suitable. There’s nothing that will fit, not without a whole amount of padding, but I doubt padding out Lucinda’s tits is going to make her more invisible. I need to distract attention from her, not invite it. After folding everything carefully and putting it back in the drawer, I open my mother’s wardrobe. I’ve already dismissed the dresses, but a white shawl catches my eye. It will have to do. I grab it and wrap it round Lucinda’s shoulders. People might wonder why she’s wearing a shawl indoors, but I’ll have to pass it off as her being susceptible to the cold. She’s so pale that people might buy it. She’s like an ice princess. Plus, the bonus is that it covers her up almost to the knees.
“Your hair is a fucking disaster,” I say, grabbing a hairbrush and attacking the strange choppy cut. I can’t hide the savage cut, but with a bit of brushing over, at least she looks half human. I cover up what I can with a jeweled headband of my mother’s.
“Have you made me into what you want me to be?” she whispers.
It’s a weird thing to say, especially after what Mercier did to her. He completely changed her appearance. I only took it down a notch and buffered the edges.
I stand back and survey my work. I hate to admit it, but even with the shawl, she drips sexuality. It’s fallen slightly, exposing one shoulder. She reminds me of a gothic Marilyn Monroe.
“I’ve made you look decent,” I say, tugging the shawl back on her shoulders. “This stays on all night.”
Her eyes stare up at me widely. I’m glad she’s wearing contacts. The brown eyes take something away from her, though there’s a hint of the pale blue around the pupil that’s not quite fully covered.
It feels like she’s looking right into my soul, and it’s unnerving. She has a way of looking right through me and I have to remind myself that she can’t see me at all.
“I’ll find a broach of my mother’s to hold it up so you don’t have to clutch onto it all night. If anyone asks, tell them you are cold and want to keep the shawl on. Do you understand me?”
She nods, without moving her eyes away from me. Heat erupts in my belly, and I have to look away. “You’ll have to wear some black glasses. We can’t cover you up being blind, so we might as well go with it. You are my blind cousin, visiting from California.”
She nods again. So far she’s barely said a word and yet I feel exhausted from conversing with her. When I put the sunglasses over her eyes, I find myself being able to breathe easier. Any semblance to Lucinda Waldgrave is now gone. She’s still too beautiful for her own good, but with the shawl, the black hair and the glasses, she could be just another Manhattan socialite. No one knows she’s blind, which will work to my advantage. Plus, with the bonus of her just visiting from California, no one will ask her too many questions. They better fucking not do, because neither of us have the answers.
I can’t believe I’m doing this as she links arms with mine and we both step out of the apartment. I’m so aware of the camera and I wonder if Bobby is watching us. This is fucking madness. Insanity. The stupidest thing I’ve ever done and if things go wrong, it might be the last time I see this apartment.
26
LUCINDA
The cold air hits me as we step outside, my arm linked in Dacre’s. The noise of traffic has my heart pounding, but Dacre helps me into a car so fast and slams the door behind me that the panic subsides quickly. He steps into the driver’s seat beside me and starts the car. It rumbles to life, vibrating in a hum. It sounds and feels different to the car that drove me here, but then again, this time, I’m not in the trunk. We’re no longer captive and kidnapper. I’m Dacre’s date for the night. I can’t help the sharp thrill I feel as we pullout into the traffic.
“I thought Mercier and Josh had your car?” I ask as we pull out into the traffic.
“They do. This is my father’s Merc.” Irritation fills his voice as though this is all my fault. He didn’t have to bring me with him. I’m doing him a favor. A fact I want to remind him of, but I keep my mouth shut. I twist the shawl in my hands as he speeds through Manhattan. I really have no real way of knowing how quickly he is going, but my back is pressed hard into the back of the seat and I jolt with every turn he makes.
