HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME.

ANASTASIA. 

I jolt, hugging my phone to my chest. And fuck, that was such a bad idea, because now I'm thinking about him between my breasts, and the G-string I had on was so damp right now and messy. 

My reaction went downhill from there, and there was no way to stop it. My lips were parted, I'm sure my cheeks were heated, and my expression must have been frozen like a deer caught in headlights. 

But instead of commenting on his picture that I'm sure he saw on my phone, he stepped in front of my swing, towering over me like a fucking Greek god. 

“Don't worry. I'm not interested in peeking at your conversations with your boyfriend.” 

My heart did this somersault thing that made me feel like I'm going to vomit or faint, maybe both. 

Boyfriend. 

His expression showed anger for a second. I wasn't sure because the lapse was just for a second, and then it was back to his default. 

“I don't have a boyfriend.”

“One less thing for Xavier to worry about.” 

I tried to hide the disappointment at how he blatantly ignored my attempts and pushed it all to Dad. 

It'd be better if I stopped. 

Usually, I would. But how would I accomplish what I've strived for if I did? I waited for my eighteenth birthday to shout that I was a woman. 

I wanted him to see me as one. 

That's probably why I asked, “Do you think I should get a boyfriend?” 

“That's none of my concern, kid.”

“I-I’m not a kid.” 

His lips twitched. “You just pouted like one.” 

I didn't like that he still thought of me as a kid. Can't he see I'm all grown up now? That I want him?

That I can't stop wanting him? 

“I'm making it your business,” I insisted. “So what do you think?” 

“What do I think about what?” 

“Should I get a boyfriend?”

“No.”

My heart nearly ripped out from my ribcage and started dancing on the floor. He said I shouldn't get a boyfriend. That couldn't be meaningless, right? 

“Why not?” I pushed, trying to sound cool, but I couldn't control the way my voice shook at the end. 

“Your father wouldn't like it.” 

Oh. 

So it's back to Dad again. 

It seems like I'm out for the throat, though. “How about you?” 

“How about me?”

“Would you like it if I had a boyfriend?” 

He paused, then said. “I would be neutral.” 

Right. 

Of course. 

Why would the king of the jungle look in the direction of a stray cub when he has countless lionesses by his side?

“Happy birthday, Anastasia.” I sighed. He was the only one who called me by my full name; the rest, including Dad, called me Ana. 

He reached into his pocket, produced a small Red box, and tossed it my way. 

I caught the small box while letting my phone fall to my lap. 

“Can I open it?” 

“Sure.” 

I didn't even open my other presents, but the ones from Damien were always the first ones I opened. It's already a ritual for me. 

Inside the box, I found a gold link bracelet with water charms. The sight brought tears to my eyes. He knew I loved water and anything related to it. 

Different types of shapes of water, it looked so lovely. 

“It's so beautiful.” I let it dangle between my fingers and smiled. 

“My assistant picked it out.” I dragged my gaze from the bracelet to him. 

He's telling me that he would never pick something like this for me, but whatever, he's the one who bought it, and that's all that matters. 

“It's still beautiful. Thank you.” 

He grunted in response. 

“Can you help me put it on?”

“No.”

It was a point-blank refusal that made me wince. 

“Why not?” 

“You can do it on your own.” 

His expression closes, and I know he's done with any conversation and will leave. 

If he leaves, my plan for today will be an epic failure. 

So I gathered the remnants of my courage and let my phone and the box fall to the swing as I stood up. 

I moved closer to him until the fabric of my dress was mere inches away from his tailored jacket. 

“What do you think you're doing? His voice is as stiff as his body, but he doesn't step back or push me away. 

“Can't you help me put the bracelet on?” 

“I said no.”

“What's wrong with doing it?”

I pause at my own words. 

Doing it. 

Damien and I. 

Damien and I were doing it. 

Shit. I must rinse my mind with bleach and hope all the dirty thoughts disappear. 

“Go back to your party, Anastasia.” I hate that he doesn't call me by the nickname everyone used for me. 

Anastasia sounded impersonal and detached. 

I pushed my body forward because I didn't want any space between us. 

Because I was an adult now and I could do that. 

“I want to be where you are, Damien.” 

His thick brows dip in the middle. “What did you just call me?” 

“Damien,” I said, lower this time, a bit uncertain and scared. 

“It's Uncle Damien.” 

“I don't want to call you that anymore.”

“It's not up to you to decide. It's Uncle Nate, got it?” 

I swallow at his non-negotiable tone and the firm edge to it. 

“Answer me, Anastasia.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

“Now go back to your party.” 

“But I don't want to.” 

“Anastasia,” he warned. 

“I want a birthday present.”!

“I already gave you one.” 

“The bracelet doesn't count, you didn't pick it out for me.” 

“What do you want?” he asked after releasing a breath. 

“Can I have anything?” 

“Within reason.”’

“You once told me that reason is subjective, which means we have different reasons for doing what we do.” 

“Yes?” 

“Then don't say I acted unreasonably, okay?” 

Before he could form any thoughts or theories, I grabbed him by the lapel of his jacket, flattened my heavy breasts against his sculpted chest, and got on my tiptoes. 

The moment my lips touched his, something within me shifted. It felt like I had lacked this form of contact all my life, and I was on cloud nine. 

I moved my mouth against his closed one and even darted my tongue, making a sloppy mess on his lips. 

God. He tasted even better than my forbidden fantasies. 

He didn't open his mouth or kiss me back. He stood there, like a statue, as his lips were assaulted. 

Then suddenly, a pained groan escaped his lips, and he caught my tongue in his mouth and sucked it in so hard that I couldn't breathe, in a good way. I felt so worked up, I rubbed my hard nipples against his chest for some friction, but nothing worked. 

Also, suddenly, he pulled me back by my hair and looked at me with wild and hungry eyes, I think? 

“Don't ever do that again, am I clear?” 

My eyes were still on his freshly kissed lips, and he shook me to awareness. 

“Did I make myself clear, Anastasia?” 

“Yes,” I said with my wobbly lips. 

And he released me, rubbed his lips roughly with a handkerchief he produced from his pocket as if he was trying to get rid of a stain. Then he walked away. 

I collapsed on the swing as I felt a single line of tears run down my cheeks. 

“Happy birthday to me.”