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“I do. I enjoy myself as a married man.” Sven relaxed in his chair. “You said your uncle wasn’t on speaking term with your mother?”
“Nope. My parents always thought Uncle Seymour was odd.”
“Odd? How?”
“Well, my mom said Uncle Seymour hadn’t been fair with the cut from Grandma Mazur’s inheritance. He took a big chunk and spent it traveling around the world. But my dad said that Uncle Seymour was off after he returned from Russia. He came back with a pretty blond boy, and their relationship was unnatural. Other aunts and uncles said Uncle Seymour was a little pedo. I remembered Dad kept saying that boy was so pretty, it was unearthly. And the way he was dressed in frilly white shirts like a little loliboy…” Annalise words trailed off when she saw him scowl. “Oh my God, don’t tell me that blond boy was you?”
Sven wanted to roll his eyes. “Yes, that blond boy was me.”
“Oops. Awkward. I’m sorry. So what happened?”
“Your uncle raised me as his own son, and there was nothing pedo about it.”
“I mean, what happened to your blond hair?”
“It got dark as I grew older. Why does it matter?”
“I was curious. My parents had always said that the blond boy was so pretty he looked like a doll. Do you have a picture of when you were a kid?”
Sven massaged his temples. “I swear, Annalise. Sometimes I wonder if your innocence is too good to be true…”
She waved him dismissively. “I’m not innocent. I’ve worked at a diner. People told dirty jokes all the times. I still know a few.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me one.”
“I’m not going to tell you.” Annalise rolled her eyes. “When we were growing up, we weren’t allowed to tell dirty jokes in the house. Or my dad would spank me with a hair brush.”
Sven inhaled sharply through his clenched teeth. “I think I want to spank your butt with a hair brush too. Maybe after I bathe you in the shower with your clothes fully on. Then I’ll blindfold you with a silk scarf and tie you to a bed…”
“Wow. I didn’t know you were so strict, Sven. My dad would just use a hairbrush. Though, sometimes, he used the belt on my brother when he was misbehaving.”
Sven groaned aloud. She was more naïve than he thought.
Annalise remained oblivious. “So Uncle Seymour never adopted you?”
“He did, but I didn’t take his last name. He said I should always remember where I was from and be proud of who I am.”
“That’s deep. Uncle Seymour sounds so wise and not pervy at all.”
“He wasn’t a perv.”
“Yeah, sure, loliboy.”
Annalise yelped when Sven tried to pull her into his lap. The conference door suddenly opened.
“I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?”
Sven’s mood turned sour. Cécile. “Do you ever knock?”
“I thought I did.”
The woman walked in uninvited. But again, she always had.
Cécile and Sven were the same
age; After Seymour adopted him, they had grown up together in Kiev and at one point were briefly lovers, until Sven couldn’t stand her anymore. Her father, Jacque Mason, was Seymour’s partner. They had both founded the company. Thirteen years ago, Jacque Mason opposed Seymour Dune and sold his shares, making the company public. It was a decision Seymour regretted to his grave.
Cécile scrutinized Annalise with her eyes. A smile of contempt blossomed. “You must be Annalise. Charming. Sven, I’ve been dying waiting for you to introduce me to your wife.”
