AllFreeNovel
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Like many houses in Wellington, mine sits on the side of one of its hills and is on several levels. Normally I enter through the garage at the top, but today we go in the door to the side and down some steps to the open plan living and dining area. Alice’s case sits there, which Saxon dropped off earlier.
She places the gift bag with her books on top, then says, “Wow…” She walks over to the window and looks out at the view of Brooklyn and beyond it the lights of the CBD. Then she turns around, wide-eyed. I look at it through her eyes. I suppose it is impressive. The cream carpet and light-gray suite make the room feel light and airy. The furniture is minimal, with clean lines.
She stops and looks up at a large oil painting of a woman dressed in white. It was inspired by the artist John Singer Sargent, not unlike his ‘Portrait of Madame X.’ It’s beautiful, and still takes my breath away whenever I look at it.
Alice looks at me. “Is this Lesley?”
That makes me laugh out loud. “No. It’s the Greek goddess Astraea. She’s the virgin goddess of justice, innocence, and purity.”
“Figures,” Alice says, throwing me a wry look before turning her gaze back to it. “Who’s the artist?”
I smile. “Damon.”
She looks back at me, her mouth an O. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. He says it’s just a hobby. Cocky bastard.”
She looks back at the painting. “He’s seriously talented. Wow.”
I watch her for a moment, jealous of her admiration for my brother. She’s not unlike the goddess, the remains of her innocence draped around her like the soft white material of her dress. I want to strip it from her, slowly. Watch her naivety fade from her eyes as I do things to her that she could never have imagined. Does that make me a bad person?
Mumbling beneath my breath, I toss my keys onto the dining table and place my briefcase down, toe off my shoes, tug off my socks, and then slip off my jacket and hang it over a chair. “I’m going to have a whisky,” I tell her. “Would you like anything? Champagne? Wine? Whisky, brandy, gin?”
“I’ll have a whisky, if you’re offering.” She walks slowly around the room, running her fingers across the back of the sofa, taking in the furnishings.
Leaving her to explore, I go through to the kitchen, retrieve two tumblers from the cupboard, and throw in a few ice cubes. After studying the bottles of whisky, I choose a Rare Collection Glenfiddich and pour a splash in each glass.
She comes out into the kitchen and stops. I glance over at her, raising an eyebrow at the look on her face. “What?”
Her gaze skims down me, making the hairs rise all over my body. “Look at you,” she whispers, “barefoot and gorgeous in the kitchen.” She walks up and places her hands on my chest. “You look amazing.” Fixing her gaze on me, she pushes me back up to the worktop and moves up close, until her mouth is only an inch from mine. “Will you keep it on?”
Her eyes glitter—she’s hoping to shock me. Amused, I reply, “Sure. As long as you understand that you’ll be naked.” I turn to pick up the whisky glasses and pass her one.
“Don’t I get a say in it?” she asks.
“Nope.” I sip my whisky.
“Just because you have a Y chromosome,” she grumbles and takes a sip of hers. Then her eyebrows rise. “Ooh. That’s smooth.”
“It should be, the price I paid for it.”
She looks at the bottle. “1937? Jesus. How much did that set you back?”
It was over a hundred thousand dollars, but I’m not about to tell her that. “A decent amount. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” I smile.
She wrinkles her nose. “That’s a nice thing to say.”
“What can you taste?”
“Mmm. Toffee. It’s lovely.”
I have another sip. “There’s also a touch of pear.”
“I can’t taste that.”
“I’ve drunk a lot of whisky. You get to be able to pick out the aromas.”
She gives me an amused look. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re an expert?”
