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“Put some clothes on, or I’m leaving.”
I groan. “Fine. But I’m still going to fuck you after I answer your question.”
She shakes her head and walks over to the living room couch where she takes a seat. “That’s what your brother said.”
I narrow my eyes, not liking this conversation at all. “And?”
“And what?” she says casually even though she knows damn well what I’m talking about.
“And…did he fuck you?”
She grins and twists a strand of her hair around her finger. “That sounds like you have a question of your own. I’m tired of answering questions when I have to work so hard to get my own questions answered.”
I growl. “I’ll put clothes on if you answer my question. Did you fuck him?”
“No,” she says, grinning like she just won.
She did.
My nostrils stop flaring, my heart stops pounding, and my body stops shaking the second the word leaves her mouth. She has a lot more power over me than I like. It’s not going to end well if she has all the power and none of the information. She can’t be in control.
I walk to my bedroom and throw on sweatpants and a T-shirt before returning to find Nina stretched out on the couch. I lift her legs up and take a seat before placing her legs on my lap. It feels so natural to have her legs on mine like this. This is how normal couples behave.
But we aren’t a couple. Or normal.
She’s my family’s slave. I can’t have feelings for her. It would only lead to heartbreak.
“So, what’s your question?”
She opens her mouth and then closes it.
I huff. “You know I don’t have all day to sit here while you think of what question to ask.”
She raises an eyebrow as she folds her arms across her chest, becoming more closed off. “Oh, really? You could have fooled me. It seems like you sleep all day while your brother does the real work.”
I shrug as I put my arm around the back of the couch. “My brother works too hard for his own good. I work when I need to. But I make sure I get good rest in between the hard work I do.”
“So, what work…” She trails off, stopping herself. She takes a deep breath. “Why do you never call me by my name? Why do you always call me sweetheart or beautiful? Why do you kiss me?”
“That’s your question?”
“Yes.”
“You know, technically, that’s three questions.”
She glares at me, making me laugh.
“But, fine, I’ll answer all three.”
She couldn’t have given me more of a softball question if she tried. But it doesn’t take a genius to realize why she is asking the question. My brother. She wants to know why we are different. If either of us has real feelings for her. But that’s impossible. Arlo is far too ambitious to care for a woman who would affect his career, and I don’t take life seriously enough to let a woman into it.
“I never call you by your name because that makes you a real person whom I have to show respect. I prefer beautiful or sweetheart because it groups all of you together. I don’t have to remember your name or think of you as anything but property.”
Her face doesn’t change as I speak. I thought she would slap me for talking about her like property, but she doesn’t. And, if she’s angry with me, she is holding it inside well.
“And why do I kiss you? Because I can, and I want to. Same reason I do anything else in my life.”
She again doesn’t say anything or move.
