Page 49 of House of Deceit

His eyes sparkle with humor.

“That was an interesting turn of phrase, the corset thing. Do you realize how often you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Turn boring observations into pithy little statements. It’s part of why you’re so good in interviews. Because you don’t say the same thing everyone else would.”

“Maybe I’m just playing with the audience. Making them overlook me. Or maybe it’s just my journalism background.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it. It’s the same humor I saw on your application.”

“You picked me because you were attracted to my drunk jokes?” I ask with a tinge of humor. He rolls his eyes.

“Not attracted attracted, just I saw the benefit of humor in winning the audience’s sympathies.”

“Sure, sure. It’s okay to say you liked me on paper when you thought I was a man.”

“It wasn’t like that and you know it, but let’s go back for a moment. You like me, huh? You think I’m sexy?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say that.” My entire body flashes hot like I just climbed into a bathtub full of magma.

At least I don’t think I’ve ever said it out loud.

He snorts. “Fine, we’ll shelve that. But you most definitely did say you like me. Don’t make me replay the tape. And the other thing I inferred because I’m not only sexy, I’m also intuitive.”

This joking, soft man is endearing. He’s the one who makes my heart squeeze. But the stern, domineering man I met initially, the one who directs me and makes my pussy squeeze, is equally attractive.

“You’re awfully full of yourself, sir,” I joke.

“That might be true, but I don’t hear you denying it.”

Emboldened, I stand up and move toward him. With one finger, I trace the lines of his tattoos and a trail of goosebumps follows. I might be attracted to this man, he’s one of the most gorgeous men I’ve laid eyes on, but I’m hoping I’m not the only one affected.

“I’ll let you pick the movie, but make it a romantic comedy. They are my favorite.” I walk to the door with significantly more confidence than I feel. Looking back, I smirk at the heated look he’s giving me.

“Don’t forget the construction paper, please.”

I peek into my actual bedroom and watch as Molly finds the movie ticket I stuck under her pillow. Her squealing glee is infectious and I go running into the room, bouncing on her bed.

“What movie are we going to watch?” she asks.

“I told Alec to surprise me. I thought that would be more fun. It should be a romcom, though.”

She fans herself with her ticket. The red face states “Admit One” in large, bold letters. My mother always thought I should use my beautiful penmanship to write wedding invitations for people and make lots of money, but I always found myself getting bored writing the same thing over and over and over. So now I use my skills primarily for fun.

At nine p.m. the next day, my invitees begin to stream in. Molly is the first, carrying her pillow and blanket.

“Those are cute pajamas. Are they new?” she asks of my onesie as she gives me a hug.

“No, I just haven’t worn them yet,” I lie.

She looks around the bedroom, letting out a low whistle before turning back to me.

“I’ve never been so excited to watch a movie in my entire life. You could show me graphically violent driver’s education films and I’d froth at the mouth to watch them,” she tells me with no preamble.

“I have dreams about lying on my couch for a Saturday, not moving, binge-watching shows and movies.”

Television never enticed me before being in the mansion. It was more something I had on in the background versus actively watching. But the moment I was told I couldn’t watch anything, it has been all I’ve wanted to do.

---