1: Elise (ii)

“I took a nap because I knew those people in that party will tire me,” I confessed. I wasn’t actually a full-pledged people person. I was half my father’s daughter, and my father was known—literally—as a hermit when he was alive.

“I know. I wasn’t keen on waking you up, really, but Mom called, and we needed to get to the road. So why are you blushing? What were you dreaming about?” He has a small frown as he asked that. Only Gian to ask seriously about something that was’t part of his planned day.

“Cake and wine and, maybe, ice cream,” I replied mock-wistfully. I was used to our banter. If he ever suspected I was having a wet dream, he would be the last person who would think to tease me about it. 

The sister he never had. A made-up little sister. You don’t tease little sisters about men they fuck in their dreams. Even if you knew she had a huge crush on you.

Especially that.

I knew he knew exactly how I felt about him. What’s worse? It’s nothing. A moot point, really, because all the females in the whole building were in love with him, anyway. That was how beautiful he was, how elegantly masculine. Every teenage girl who’s known of him had a crush on him. He’s the subject of every grown woman’s wet dreams. But my feelings probably only amused him in the millisecond of the day that he would remember it. Where’s my pride? Missing-in-action when he was this man in front of her who oozed with sex appeal in every pore of his magnificent body. I became like a twelve-year-old who lose her shit when confronted by the super yummylicious hotness of her crush in the school hallway. I mean, there was no problem with losing the wit, but to display it to him like this? I wasn’t even like that 12-year-old when I was a 12-year-old.

He was openly grinning now, the brute!

“Why are you super pretty? This is so unfair!” I whined. No need to hide it further, I thought. He was already awed by my level-headedness and maturity.

“Elise…” he said, disturbed despite his obvious amusement.

He’s a god, dammit. Take your eyes away from him so he doesn’t mess up your brain anymore. Like now? Hello?

I lowered my eyes, struggled to get my thoughts back in order. Focused. Done. Better. Thank god!

“I was going over the party program sent by your Mom’s assistant in my head,” I began again in a steadier voice, still not looking at his awesomeness. But I could smell his cologne and it was so good and distracting, so I turned half away from him and made it look like I was checking the notes on my tablet.

The good thing was that when I touched the screen, it showed the page of daily schedules and appointments. I really was checking it before I fell into that nap, so as soon as I saw it, it was easier to get back to work mode.

We were about to attend the Pre-Valentine’s Fundraising Ball at the Verrazzanos’ modern mansion tonight. That was why we were both in our party attire. So far, we were still on schedule.

Yes. Get back on track, Elise. You both should be down and inside the car in about 20 minutes, reminded my inner voice, the one whose stricter than me. The one whose designed like my mother.

I finally looked back to him to continue, as I was calmer. I noticed his eyes right away, critically sliding down and up my body. And I tensed because he didn’t look amused anymore.

In fact, he could barely manage to control the scowl marring his chiseled face.

What now?

Did I already mention how serious he was with this me-being-the-sister-he’d-never-had business? He was.

And right now, he was doing his ‘Big Brother’ inspection.

This wasn't something new. My uber-protective stepfather, Daddy Jess, did the very same thing to me and my half-sister Anna all the time we were growing up—and he was an ex-convict.

Not that he was a real criminal. He was acquitted of the crime three years later when new evidence proved he was innocent, but his reputation cleaved to him because he’d been in jail with hardened criminals.

And with his build and an over six-foot frame, it was really easy for him to scare people. He was strict and overly protective of Anna and me, and his just standing nearby made people behave very well towards us.

The other obsessively protective was this CEO in front of me.

Tall at six feet, perfectly built, with an aloof kind of handsomeness, and one of the youngest, smartest, and most forceful businessmen in the country—he was power himself.

He was an alpha at the other end of the spectrum from my stepfather.

But both were softies on the inside no matter how hard they scowl.

The women in both the Soler and the Verrazzano families knew this weakness a long time ago, though we pretended we didn’t, and we knew they were pretending they didn’t know we knew.

We all liked the game and we didn’t want to spoil the fun. Oh, how special it felt to be truly protected by alpha men. We appreciate this. We even loved it most of the time.

But sometimes, it could be irritating.

Like now.

Gian’s elegant eyebrows were trying gallantly not to wrestle with each other.

He didn’t like the gown I had on for the party because it fitted my figure to a T.

And he hadn’t even seen the back yet.

I scowled back as I waited for him to do away with the struggle in finding words to tell me to change into another dress.

He finally opened his mouth to speak.

But nope.

Not tonight.