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That word has never applied to me but coming from Dietrich, I’m instantly wet again and I realize, he’s got some voodoo magic that would make Shin Lin look like an amateur.
My heart skips and sputters as I struggle to find my metaphorical footing in the current scene we are playing.
Chillax,Jamie. What happened in the car was a game. Intricate and high level, but a game nevertheless. It was a test at best. This is no time for girlish fantasies of white chapels and little Dietrich’s running around.
Greg said Dietrich dumped the last girl after she caught feelings for him.
The last girl…
I recover as best I can, elbowing him in the side. “Oh, Daddy, you do love obedience. His other love is training dogs. I think he uses the same techniques on them as he did when he raised me. It’s a gift.”
Margaret ignores me, offering Dietrich a tour of the estate, which he accepts, and it’s a welcome distraction from the chaos going on in my reproduction system.
We move through the opulent living and dining rooms. There are flowers everywhere and the rooms are staged for the charity function tonight. I wish my focus could be on the impeccable decor of taupe fabric, museum-worthy antiques and artwork but it’s not.
Margaret hangs on Dietrich and I remind myself this is all for show and come Monday, my carriage is turning right back into a pumpkin.
But, I can’t help that every time she giggles and pats his arm, I want to tear those earrings straight through her thin, fleshy earlobes. I’m using an inordinate amount of energy to keep my expression pleasant and not knock her feet out from under her with an MMA style leg sweep.
I have no idea how to execute such a move, but I’ve seen it done plenty of times. And the vision ofmedoing it is making me ridiculously happy right now.
By the time the endless tour gets to the kitchen, I’m annoyed withDietrichfor entertaining her flirtatious giggles and soft touches. And yet, he’s not exactly feeding into it either.
He’s playing his part perfectly.
He’s paired his sexy, menacing glare with the slightest of an upturn in the corner of his lips. I wouldn’t call it a smile really. Not like I saw in the car, anyway. That makes me happy as a rat in a box of Fruity Pebbles because I don’t want him smiling at anyone else.
Ever.
Stomp. Stomp.My Daddy.
I take a breath and close my eyes for a beat.Get a grip, Hannah.
I lean into my pretend daddy because no matter how I try, I can’t fight the gravitational pull he has, and I want to save my energy for my leg sweep with Margaret later.
She guides us through the kitchen, which smells of rich roast beef and cream sauce. I was too nervous this morning to eat and now dinner seems so far away I consider swiping a few of the canapes from the baking sheet as we pass.
Margaret clasps her hands together, centering my focus as she turns to Dietrich. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Bill and his partners. They are so looking forward to meeting you and hearing your ideas on solving the staffing issues everyone is having in the industry these days. They understand you have connections that may be mutually beneficial.”
“That I may,” Dietrich replies, then quickly pivots. “You are pulling out all the stops for tonight. The MOMA is lucky to have you on their side.”
She’s girlishly pleased with Dietrich’s compliment but even I know it’s a deflection. He has the grifter’s gift, a way of making people think they’re the most important thing in his world while gaining their trust.
Which makes me wonder, is that exactly what he’s doing with me?
She grabs onto Dietrich’s left biceps as though she’s marking her territory, and that leg sweep vision comes back, only this time it’s coupled with a shoulder dislocating arm bar. My guilty pleasure of watching brutal MMA take downs on YouTube may finally come in handy.
“Daddy,” I whisper as Dietrich tugs me closer to his right side, pulling his arm away fromMaaaargareton his left, as the throbbing in my southern hemisphere returns with a vengeance.
“Yes, baby?” he says in that rumbly, wonderful Daddy tone.
“Can we—”
I’m cut off by Margaret’s excited squeal as though Jesus himself has just entered the room. “There youare,my precious boy!”
A young man, probably a few years older than me, with a mop of unkempt brown curls and red rimmed eyes saunters into the room with his hands shoved into the pockets of his rumpled designer suit.
“Dietrich, Jamie, this is my son,Jeremy.” Margaret straightens her spine like he’s her crowning life achievement. “Jeremy, Dietrich and his daughter are joining us for the event tonight and will be our house guests for the weekend. Jeremy is home from NYU for the weekend. He’s in pre-law. Did you say you’re at NYU, Jamie?”
