#i think she’s a fuckin top notch companion
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so what i’m getting from these gifs is we have a canon wlw ship and i should start watching doctor who again for the thasmin
#lemon speaks#i mean i would#i always go in and out on the who#sometimes it’s all i watch for months#and sometimes i don’t feel the need for literal years#i missed like most of 12 and clara#like the last two 12 seasons i only watched a year or two after they came out#but i liked yaz and 13 a lot#i think she’s a fuckin top notch companion#so maybe i should go back into it?#i think i tried to restart when flux was happening and it was just#Waaaaaaay too much#i was also in a bad brain place ya know how it goes#but yeah i think i’ll watch doctor who again#doctor who#thasmin#13 x yasmin#thirteenth doctor
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At All Costs
For @pillarspromptsweekly fill 98: Reputation. Broke out Josetta again and regret nothing. Title is the name of the quest, because I couldn’t think of anything better.
---
She was late. Josetta cursed under her breath as she hurried through the streets toward Ondra’s Gift. She hadn’t been late once yet the whole time working for Mestre Verzano. Tempted as she’d been a time or two--it had to be the most mind-numbingly dull job in all Defiance Bay--she had been raised to keep her word. And even if Mestre Verzano wouldn’t care, Liena almost definitely would, and Josetta had no desire for a black mark on her record.
She neatly dodged between people, silently thanking Hylea at least the Gift wasn’t as busy at this hour as Copperlane or Brackenbury. Despite her best efforts, however, Liena fixed her with a chastising look when she swept through the door.
“Oversleep, did we?” she asked blandly. “I warned you all the midnight oil you burn would catch up to you.”
Josetta rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I was awake in plenty of time. The delay came from spilling my breakfast all down my front because I tripped over a loose board. Had to change, ac? And then got caught by the bustle and crowds I’m usually early enough to avoid...” She ran one hand over her braids, even though she knew all seven were still firmly done from last night. Nedra had helped, and old as the woman was, her braids were still top-notch.
“Since it’s the first time in nine months, I won’t mark it down,” Liena conceded with a small smile. “You are a hard worker, Josetta, and more reliable than most.” She snorted and jerked her head toward the back room. “The old man’s so distracted today, he likely won’t even notice.”
“Agracima, Liena,” Josetta smiled in relief. She hung up her cloak and hurried to the warehouse stockroom, russet skirt swirling around her ankles.
Mestre Verzano was standing in the stockroom, calling out directions to the other workers as he played with his dinged up old pocket watch. He definitely seemed just as agitated as Liena hinted, and indeed didn’t even acknowledge Josetta as she passed on her way to the accounting stations. “...should be here by now....” he was muttering.
Bennet flashed a knowing look, and his lips curved in a smirk when he saw her. “I keep telling you South Alley’s faster, Jos.”
Josetta rolled her eyes. “Ac, because nothing would happen to a woman alone traveling that route.”
“Not during the day,” Bennet clarified, nudging his spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying it’s a good path home, just that during daylight hours there’s enough kith you should be safe, but not so many you’re late for work. Just keep it in mind for emergencies, is all I’m suggesting.”
“Suggestion noted,” Josetta said crisply, settling on her stool. “What are we working on this morning?”
“Bills of lading.” Bennet gave her an exaggerated smile as he passed over a thick sheaf of parchment. “Have fun.”
It could be worse, she reminded herself as she scanned the cramped or near-illegible rows of handwriting that covered the pages. You could still be at that tavern. Or working for the seamstress. At least here there’s sunlight and no one pinching your backside. It didn’t mean the morning’s work would be any more fun, but the perspective did help.
Josetta had been at work for a couple hours, carefully copying lists of goods received and their value to the company records, when Mestre Verzano had a visitor. There was only one reason--well, two--he would have visitors at the company office, and the tan, rough-clad elven woman definitely didn’t look like a Trading Company representative.
“Merla,” she hissed.
Bennet looked up from his ledgers at her quiet oath and groaned in disbelief. “Is he at it again?”
Josetta nodded, rubbing her eyes as Mestre Verzano made brief small talk with the elf before handing her a small bag. “Postenago’s going to get himself killed and we’ll be working for the Doemenels before the month is out.”
“With your dreams, I wouldn’t have figured you for such a pessimist, Jos,” Bennet said dryly as they watched the elf leave. Mestre Verzano approached one of the warehouse guards and murmured something to him.
“There’s nothing pessimistic about knowing how the world works, Bennet,” she sighed. “Side dealing around a crime family always catches up to you. And the Doemenels have already given him several warnings. Knowing what comes next is no more pessimistic than knowing what Nedra’s serving for dinner tonight.”
He shrugged and grunted a concession and they got back to work.
---
It was only an hour, maybe a little more, before the elf returned with friends at her back. “Care to explain why the Doemenels want you dead?” she asked, loudly and without preamble. “What the fuck did you have me do?”
Josetta and Bennet exchanged a look and slid off their stools, edging closer to the doorway so they could hear.
Just in time to see Mestre Verzano’s eyes widen as he tugged on his beard. “They were there? I was so careful. they shouldn’t have known, how did they know?”
The warehouse guards tensed at his agitation, a few laying hands on weapons as slow, measured footsteps approached.
“Maybe you were right,” Bennet muttered. Josetta tossed him an almost sarcastic smile in response.
The footsteps were not one of the Doemenels. They belongs to a tall, imposing woman Josetta vaguely recognized. She was a mes Rèi; god-touched, member of the Five Suns and the only connection the ducs bels deigned to keep with Mestre Verzano. usually bringing reprimands or warning. Today she paused in the doorway, arms crossed as a darkly humored smile tugged at her lips. “Ah, is this your last day among the living, Verzano?”
“Impeccable timing, Tella Pallegina,” Verzano managed, voice shaking as he turned from the elf. He wrung his hands and held them out pleadingly toward the paladin. “Please, please, the Doemenels, they are after me! You must stop them!”
She snorted, golden eyes flickering disdainfully. “I must? No, no, Verzano. The Republics only considered you an investment worth preserving based on your success.” She looked around the half-empty warehouse as if to underscore her point. “That success hinges on your cooperation with locals. Such as the Doemenels. As you have lost that...” She fixed him with a meaningful look that tied Josetta’s stomach in knots, “you have also lost the favor of the ducs.”
So much for this being a respectable job, Josetta groaned inwardly.
“Even assuming you got out of this alive, they are done with you,” Pallegina continued. “There are much more important issues in Defiance Bay than rescuing a man who threw himself overboard.”
“Per complanca, Pallegina!” Mestre Verzano cried, falling to his knees. “You can’t mean... Whatever shame I’ve brought on myself, I don’t stand a chance against the Doemenels, you know this! Surely you don’t intend to watch your countryman cut down like a dog!”
Pallegina simply stared at him, one brow arching in disdain. “A dog would die with more dignity, I think. You know where my orders come from, ac? Why waste your precious remaining breaths trying to change them instead of crying for mercy to the one person here who may grant it?”
Her gaze and Verzano’s--as well as Josetta and Bennet’s--went to the rough-looking elf, who had been watching the whole exchange with an expression Josetta couldn’t quite read on her face and arms crossed. With attention on her now, the elf shrugged and exchanged looks with a couple of her companions. “Sure, I can do that. Got no love for the fuckin’ Doemenels, an’ they don’t scare me.”
Pallegina snorted. “You have some saint looking out for you, Verzano. Just don’t come knocking at the embassy after she saves your sorry hide.” With a final dry smirk toward Mestre Verzano, she turned on her heel and strode out.
Josetta bit her lip. If the Doemenels were coming here, perhaps it would be wise for her and Bennet to hide. True, the scrapper elf and her motley collection of friends looked capable of handling anything thrown at them, but regardless of circumstance, the Doemenels were... not fond of witnesses. She turned to make the suggestion--
And found a gleaming dagger mere inches from her face, held by a dark clad thug standing over Bennet’s crumpled form.
“Scream an’ you’re dead,” the thug warned just above a whisper. “Keep quiet, maybe you an’ you friend here walk away alive.”
Josetta nodded, lips pressed together, relieved by the tacit confirmation Bennet was currently just unconscious. She backed against the wall to be out of the way as another thug followed the first one in. Both moved toward the doorway as a voice Josetta recognized as one of the Doemenel children rose in mock surprise.
“What a shock to see you here,” the Doemenel jibed, her tone dripping honey. “You hardly struck me as the type to run a charity, protecting weak old fools from the fate they’ve earned.”
Josetta hesitated briefly before peeking around the door frame, her curiosity getting the better of her. The elf’s group was half a dozen against twice as many Doemenel thugs, not to mention the daughter of the house.
“However,” the Doemenel said with a cavalier shrug as she drew her rapier, “if you want to die with Verzano, it makes no difference to me.”
The elf grinned and cracked her knuckles. “That assumes I’ll be the one fuckin’ dyin’, prissy-britches.”
The room erupted into violence after that. From where she cowered, Josetta didn’t see who moved first, or most of what followed. Except Mestre Verzano yelping and scuttling for cover behind a shelf. That she saw clear as day.
The fight didn’t last long; even outnumbered the elf and her compatriots ripped through the Doemenels. (It helped, Josetta was sure, that one of their number was a wizard.) After it was done, the elf wiped down and sheathed her sabres, raking hair out of her face with one hand as she gestured at the bodies with the other. “Make sure they’re actually fuckin’ dead an’ check on the warehouse staff while I settle things.” She turned toward the trembling Mestre Verzano as her friends carried out her instructions.
Josetta scurried back from the door, uncertain why the possibility of being caught there made her feel guilty. Maybe it was just her sisterly instincts chiding her for not staying with Bennet. Maybe she was just used to organizations that didn’t want witnesses. Whatever it was, she’d made it all the way back to her unconscious friend before a blonde-furred orlan popped her head in, teal braids swinging with the motion, and spotted them.
“Hey, you alright?” the orlan asked as she stepped into the room.
Josetta tried not to stare at the blood spattering her armor as she nodded.
“How ‘bout your friend?” the orlan pressed, raising an eyebrow toward Bennet. “What happened to him?”
“Knocked on the head,” Josetta said, voice only shaking a little as one hand fumbled to grasp her necklace for comfort.
“Ah. Well, I think I can help with that.” The orlan stepped closer. “I’m Keya, I helped the Watcher protect Verzano just now. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“I’m not afraid,” Josetta said, hating that the tremble picked that moment to get worse. “I’ve never... I just...”
“First time watching people die?” Keya said sympathetically.
Josetta just nodded, hand wrapped tight around her necklace. It was technically true.
Keya knelt next to Bennet and pulled off her gloves to start feeling for a bump. “That’s always hard. Hopefully, since you don’t seem intent on becomin’ a hardened warrior, it’ll also be the last.”
Josetta nodded again. She didn’t trust her voice, which Keya seemed to understand.
“Here we are. Niiice goose egg, but he’ll be fine,” Keya promised. One hand lingered on the bump behind Bennet’s right ear. “Shouldn’t be any lasting damage.”
“Thank you,” Josetta mumbled. She didn’t have many friends here, and the thought of losing one was... unappealing, to put it mildly. She spotted his spectacles and reached over to pick them up, wincing at the crack across one lens.
“Here.” Keya pulled a small bottle out of a belt pouch, full of a deep blue liquid. “Have him drink this when he wakes up, it’ll help. Especially if he’s out much longer.” With that, she pushed to her feet, pulled on her gloves, and headed back out to join her companions. Josetta heard muffled conversation for a few moments, then they left.
A couple heartbeats later, Liena leaned around the doorway. Though she was making an attempt to seem collected, Josetta could see in her eyes how rattled the other woman was. She paled, ever so slightly, when she saw Bennet. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise, but Mestre Verzano has decided to close early for the day. You are free to leave whenever you wish.”
Josetta glanced at Bennet, rested one hand protectively on his chest. “I’ll stay until he wakes.”
Liena shrugged and deposited her keys on Josetta’s desk. “Lock up when you go, and I will expect them back tomorrow. Corés.” She was gone before Josetta could echo her farewell.
Josetta could still hear people moving around in the main room; probably workers hauling off the dead. She was perfectly content to stay exactly where she was--though she did shift enough to rest Bennet’s head on her leg rather than the floor.
Eventually the sounds of clean-up faded and the others workers tramped out. Bennet finally stirred just as the last echoes of footsteps faded.
“Took you long enough,” Josetta tried to joke as he blinked hazily up at her, her fingers pausing in their repeated tracing of his spectacle frames..
“...Jos?” Bennet frowned, tried to sit up, but didn’t get very far. He relaxed back and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “....owwwwww”
“Oh, here.” She helped him sit up--her leg was falling asleep, she needed him off of it--and handed him the potion Keya had given her. “Drink.”
Bennet frowned at it, as if trying to focus. “And this is...?”
She really didn’t like how groggy he sounded. “It’ll help your headache, do you really care?”
He snorted softly and popped the cork. “No.” After he’d downed it, he blinked again and looked around on the floor.
“Oh, here.” Josetta handed him his spectacles.
Bennet scowled at the cracked lens, and for a minute, she thought she might actually hear him curse. But he just sighed and slid them on, eyes almost crossing at the effect of the crack. “Thank you.”
It took a few minutes for the potion’s effects to kick in, but at that point, he was able to get to his feet. First leaning heavily on his desk, then trusting his own balance. Josetta insisted on walking him home.
“In case you have a dizzy spell, or lose your balance, or something, ac? You don’t need anymore hits to the head today, aimico,” she said as she locked the door behind them.
Bennet rolled his eyes but didn’t fight her. “I didn’t even need one.” He fell in step beside her.
Josetta laughed.”True.” She tugged his arm so they skirted a pothole. “If your head still aches come morning, stay home. I didn’t see how hard he hit you, but you were out quite a while. Injuries like that can be serious, from what I understand. You need rest.”
“And possibly a new job,” Bennet said dryly. “Excitement like this is liable to drive Mestre Verzano clean out of the Dyrwood.”
“Liena’s been angling to take over for months,” Josetta pointed out. “If he does leave, she’ll just step in.”
He made an ambivalent noise that was neither concession nor disagreement and they walked in silence after that until they reached Bennet’s house. Josetta fussed over him a little more--he’d tripped couple times as they drew closer--before taking her leave. She needed a nap herself after the day’s excitement. And that’s what she did, barely even taking time to kick off her boots before she dropped into bed.
If Bennet was right, her future might be likewise uncertain. Even if Liena did take over after this mess, there was no guarantee she could salvage the floundering outpost, or that she’d want to keep the current staff if she did. But uncertainty, like many things, was better faced when well rested, so Josetta pushed it away for now as she drifted off to sleep.
---
Apparently I need to flesh out Bennet now, since he just went from a name I stuck in as one of Josetta’s friends to an actual character. Oops. My love of male/female friendships strikes again. Seriously, this was pretty much ready to go on Thursday, but then I started debating with myself whether I should give him glasses. I delayed posting for a whole day. To decide if he should wear glasses. Clearly, he’d gonna wind up more developed. xD
#queens fic#pillars prompts weekly#pillars of eternity#it's all ocs this time#josetta di carro#bennet
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Beautiful Lies chapter 4
So the big bad CEO is afraid of the dark? A small part of me feels comforted by this fact – it makes him more human somehow. The bed is plenty big enough to accommodate us both and if I’d been locked in a room of my own all night, I would crumble into a sobbing hysterical mess as the gravity of my new living situation hit me. Being near him means I have to keep my carefully crafted mask in place. Besides, I’m used to sharing a bedroom with Becca since we were infants, and the idea of sleeping alone in an unfamiliar place doesn’t appeal to me. I was sure the sounds and groans from the house would keep me up most of the night, my mind churning. At least I’ll have someone nearby if something happened. Of course this same someone could roll toward me in the night expecting sex. But something tells me the sex won’t happen tonight. I have to take my chances – not that I have a choice, I remind myself. I am his to do with what he pleases.
I crawl into the far side of the bed and curl into a tight ball, praying for sleep to come easy.
"No fuckin’ way," he grunts. "Over here, sweetness."
I exhale slowly and slide my body closer to his, keeping my back to him, only stopping when the firm wall of male warmth stops me. He wraps one heavy arm around my middle and tugs me close – until my back is pressed against his chest. My heart kicks up speed in my chest. There’s something about this close, intimate contact that unravels me. Although I’m used to sharing a bedroom with Becca, I’m certainly not accustomed to spooning with a man all night long. Let alone one I hardly know who’s already turned me into a puddle of hormones. Geez.
His rough hand settles against my bare hip and my breathing instantly falters. His fingers splay open across my abdomen, lightly caressing me. My muscles stiffen as I wait for his hand to push between my legs, taking what I’ve kept guarded most of my life.
"Relax," he encourages, his voice whispery soft and sleepy. "Nothing more will happen tonight." He continues rubbing me – my hip, the indent of my belly, the top of my thigh, almost like he’s testing me, training me to be comfortable with him The warmth of his breath against my hair and his hand lightly caressing my skin make it tough to relax, but eventually I do, growing accustomed to the new sensations. My eyes slip closed and I enjoy the soothing touch he’s delivering before drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Four
Selena
I’m not sure what I expected, but the following morning when I roll over in the gigantic bed, Justin is already gone. The crinkled white Egyptian cotton sheets are the only bit of evidence he’d been there at all. He was a good sleeping companion. Quiet and true to his word – he didn’t try anything with me.
I stretch leisurely and take my time rolling from the bed. In the opulent bathroom, I debate taking a shower – I’m dying to use the luxurious steam shower with its six shower heads, but decide instead to make it brief in case Justin is expecting me downstairs.
After smoothing my hair down in the mirror, I wander downstairs in search of coffee. The house is completely silent. As I pass by room after room on my way to kitchen, it feels like I’m walking through a museum.
Justin is sitting at the breakfast bar, leaning over his iPad with a cup of steaming espresso sitting nearby.
"Morning," I say.
His gaze lifts up to meet mine, his mouth tugged down in a frown. I feel like I’m interrupting him. He taps a few more keys on his tablet and then glances up again, his frown now absent. "Morning."
"Is there coffee?" He said I should make myself at home, and so I try to fight off the feeling that I should retreat to a dark corner of the house and stop interrupting him.
He tips his head to the elaborate stainless steel brewing system installed into one wall. That is not a coffee pot. It could very well be a time machine for all I know. "My staff – the housekeepers and cook have all been made aware of your presence here. They think you’re a friend who’s staying with me. So if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Marta’s my favorite. You can trust her, okay?"
I nod. "So, what’s our story? About how I know you."
A crease permeates his brow as he thinks it over. "You’re the younger sister of a college friend of mine. You’re in LA trying to make it as a model and I offered you a place to stay until you get a job. How does that sound?"
"A model?" Me? I glance down at myself and nearly roll my eyes. I don’t have the height or weight requirements to be a model. "Let’s make our story at least somewhat believable."
"Yes. A model. And it is believable."
I chew on my lower lip, internalizing this information at how he views me. "Okay." Whatever. "Does this brother of mine have a name?"
He thinks it over. "Anthony."
"I’m not Italian."
"Fine, John."
"Where did you and John go to college?"
"Harvard," he says without batting an eyelash.
Wow. Impressive. I guess the multi-million dollar home sitting directly on the beach in Malibu and the running two companies thing makes sense. He has a top notch education. He’s smart, powerful, and sexy. Altogether, a lethal combination. I still don’t understand how he’s single. "Are you from the east coast originally?" I ask.
He nods. "Connecticut."
Just then, the doorbell rings – it’s an obnoxious chime that goes on for what seems like forever. My eyes flick over to his. "Are you expecting someone?"
He sets the porcelain espresso cup down on the counter. "I guess it’s a good thing we came up with that story," he says, then heads off to answer the door.
What the hell? I’m standing in his kitchen wearing the baggy T-shirt he gave me last night, no bra, and paper thin cotton pants without any panties, and apparently I’m about to meet someone from his life. Perfect.
Seconds later, Justin reenters the kitchen, flanked by two men who share his same features. The resemblance is uncanny. My first thought is: there are three of him?
It’s overwhelming to have them all in the same room, all of their brilliant blue eyes watching me.
"Who’s this?" One of the Justin look-alikes asks with a cocky grin. His eyes are devouring me and his mouth is curved up in a crooked smile. He looks to be a few years younger than Justin, which makes me realize for the first time that Justin must have a couple of years on me.
"Selena, these are my brothers." He points to the cocky-grinned younger version of himself. "Pace." And then to the slightly taller version with kind eyes, "And Collins."
"Hello." I tug at the hem of the t-shirt I’m wearing, all too aware of my braless state. Shit, and I’m sure my hair’s a wicked wreck too. "It’s nice to meet you."
"Last night’s conquest is still here?" Pace’s mouth tugs up in another of those uneven grins I’m already coming to love.
"Selena is John’s youngest sister."
"John?" They both ask in unison.
Here we go. Time to test the story.
"John – from Harvard. He was one of Derek’s buddies."
Both brothers nod like this makes perfect sense. I suppose there are a lot of Johns at Harvard, and since they have no reason to doubt him, they quickly accept the story. I breathe a little sigh of relief while Justin finishes explaining that I’ve just moved to LA and I’m looking for a modeling job, so he offered me a place to stay since he has like fifteen empty bedrooms.
"Where are you from originally?" Collins asks.
"Boston," I blurt without thinking. That’s where Harvard is, but I wince realizing I’m completely missing the telltale Boston accent. Nice, Selena.
"So you guys aren’t, like, an item, then?" Pace presses on. He eyes my ensemble – it’s obvious I’ve slept in Justin’s clothes.
"No," Justin answers without offering anything further.
"The airline lost my luggage," I explain, gesturing to my outfit.
"Bastards." Pace grins at me again.
"I’m Collins. It’s good to meet you." The eldest of the three extends his hand to mine and gives it a warm shake, his large hand completely enclosing my own palm. His blue eyes crinkle in the corners and seem to see too much – it’s the same feeling I get looking directly into Justin’s eyes.
"You too."
"Ignore these two idiots. Welcome to the City of Angeles. If you need anything – please let me know," he says.
"Isn’t Tatianna a model, bro?" Pace looks at Collins and asks.
"Who?" Collins’ eyes still haven’t wandered from mine.
"Your girlfriend," Pace reminds him. "Your very committed, live-in girlfriend."
Justin almost chokes on his laughter.
"Right. Yes, that’s what I meant." Collins straightens his shoulders. "If you need anything while you’re here and trying to get established, let me know, and I’ll see if I can help."
Pace and Justin are both chuckling at their older brother. Watching them interact, I can see they’re a close-knit family and I immediately miss Becca. Although it’s been a while since she and I could just have fun and joke around so carefree like this. Lately there’s been too many hospitals, too much stress, and too many bills to even remember how to laugh, let alone breathe.
"Thank you, I will let you know." I tip my head to the floor. My desire for coffee is gone, all I want to do is flee this kitchen and these three big men who are all watching me closely. I want to take a shower – put on a damn bra and get dressed.
"What the fuck, Coco, don’t you have anything of Stella’s she could put on until the airline finds her luggage?" Pace questions, throwing a mock punch toward Justin.
The glare Justin shoots him is akin to an atomic bomb going off in the kitchen. Note to self: Do not anger Justin, or Coco… or whatever his name is.
Whoever she is, Justin’s body language screams that the name Stella should not be mentioned in his presence. Of course, this only makes me more curious.
"I’ll call Marta," Justin says, rather than answering the direct question.
"On her one day off?" Collins raises an eyebrow.
I watch their exchange in fascination, I get the sense there is so much not being said that I need a translator just to keep up.
Justin turns to face me, his expression softening. "Go upstairs and shower if you like. I can give you fresh clothes to change into until Marta can get here. I forgot that I have plans to go golfing with my brothers today. But she’ll take you shopping and get you everything you need. Until your luggage arrives," he adds, giving me a smirk.
"Okay," I mumble. I hate feeling so helpless, but I can do nothing but depend on him, my new, confusing master. Before retreating up the stairs, I give both brothers another handshake and we exchange goodbyes. Then I duck off to the safety of the master suite, needing a few minutes alone to recover from all the testosterone taking up residence in the kitchen.
Chapter Five
Selena
Once I’m alone upstairs, I know I can’t delay the phone call I need to make any longer. I sit down on the upholstered chaise lounge chair in the master suite and dial my mom’s cell, waiting anxiously for her to pick up.
"Selena?"
"Yeah, it’s me Mom." With all that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, it’s more grounding than I realized just to hear her voice.
"Where are you?" she asks.
"In LA, staying with a friend. I needed some time away – a break."
She’s quiet and I know she’s processing what I’ve told her. I don’t have any friends in Los Angeles, but she doesn’t question me.
"This friend I’m staying with…he, he owns a company and he’s graciously offered to um," I stumble over my words, drawing a deep breath. God, I suck at lying. "He’s offered to front the money to get Becca into the trial program."
"What have you done, Selena?" her tone desperate and more harsh than I recall.
It’s not the reaction I’m expecting.
"The money is in your account. Use it to get Becca the care she needs." My voice is almost clinical as I fight to hold my emotions together. Never once in my wildest imagination had I thought my mom would be suspicious of me. Of course I knew she’d wonder where the money came from, but I thought she’d be so grateful that she’d accept the story of a generous anonymous donor without argument.
She doesn’t say anything else about the money, but I hear her sniffle. "How long will you be away?"
"A while," I confirm.
"Take care of yourself."
"I will. Just take care of Becca. I love you guys."
"Selena?" I hear Justin’s voice from the hall before he steps into the room.
I toss my phone down onto the chair and stand, quickly wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands. "Yes?"
He’s holding a coffee cup on a saucer and carrying a miniature pitcher of cream. "You didn’t get your coffee."
The gesture is sweet and unexpected. I accept the cup from him, the fragrant brew is exactly what I need right now. There’s a packet of sugar and a tiny stirring spoon on the saucer.
"I didn’t know how you took it."
"With cream and sugar. This is perfect. Thank you."
He nods. "Everything…okay?"
"Yes." I straighten my spine. He didn’t pay for drama and I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear about my problems back home. "I just called my mom. Everything’s going to be fine now." At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
A frown line momentarily creases his forehead, before his expression returns to the relaxed, neutral one I’ve come to expect. "Marta should be here in about an hour. You’ll probably want to get yourself ready."
"Thanks again." I tip the coffee to my lips and watch as he exits the room.
After finishing my coffee, I decide to prepare for Marta’s arrival. I run myself a bubble bath in the extra-large soaker tub and sink into the warmth, letting the hot water strip away my earlier tension.
The basket beside the tub is stocked with everything I could need and more – luxury bath salts, shampoo, conditioner, facial scrub, razors, and body washes in several different scents. I lose myself in the process, lathering my hair and skin and enjoying the peaceful moment and the fragrant scent of herbs enveloping me.
Until I hear the bathroom door open.
I squeak and dive for cover under the bubbles as Justin’s lazy smile lights up his entire face and makes my belly flip.
"Nothing I haven’t already seen, sweetness. Relax. I’m going to grab a shower. Do I need to use another bathroom, or are you cool with this?"
Hmm, let’s see. Am I cool with the fact that I now live with a man who’s seemingly comfortable sharing a bathroom with me while we’re both naked as jaybirds? N-to-the-o. Privacy used to be something I valued. I merely nod.
He twists one of the nobs in the gigantic glass enclosed shower and water pours from the rain-like shower head mounted in the ceiling, then he tugs his shirt off over his head and steps out of the cotton pants he’s wearing. I glimpse a firm, hard ass before slamming my eyes shut. Jesus…does he spend all his free time at the gym?
The urge to glance over at his nude, muscular body is driving me crazy. I can hear the water spraying against the stone shower floor and the sound is maddening. It’s like being told there’s a priceless oil painting hanging on the wall and you’re prohibited to look at it. Basically, it’s torture. I already know what his manhood looks like, but the desire to steal a peak at the rest of him is almost overwhelming. I resist the temptation, but just barely.
I quickly finish my bath, thankful that I’d already washed up before Justin decided to join me. I secure the huge white fluffy towel around my body and exit the bathroom as quickly as I can, leaving a puddle of water on the floor in my wake.
Rather than dressing in my clothes from yesterday, I follow Justin’s lead and put on the clothes he’s laid out for me – another large t-shirt and sweat pants this time, then venture downstairs for a refill on my coffee.
His brothers are both still in the kitchen and Pace is ransacking the fridge while Collins sits at the island, talking on his cell phone and looking perturbed.
"So, golfing today, huh?" I attempt to make small talk.
"You want to join us?" Pace asks.
I look down at my ensemble. "I don’t think I’m dressed for it."
He chuckles. "True. But it’d give the stogy old men at Collins’ country club something to talk about other than their stock performance."
I glance longingly over at the built in coffee machine and then down at my empty cup.
Pace’s easy smile is back. God, that thing’s becoming addictive. "C’mere, beautiful. Let me show you."
He takes the cup from me and sets it down on the tiny platform opening and shows me which buttons to press while muttering to himself about the damn pretentious machine. The options are overwhelming for a simple cup of coffee. I’ve never been good with gadgets and this is like a having a live-in barista. The LED display confirms my order – small coffee and I tap brew on the touch pad. I’m rewarded with the satisfying sound of the coffee beginning to pour into my cup and another one of Pace’s adorable grins.
After adding a splash of milk and a bit of sugar into my coffee, I see Justin enter the kitchen. He’s dressed smartly in dark grey khaki style pants and a white collared shirt that stretches across his muscled chest. Geez, they’re like a polo team – or an advertisement for male cologne. You know, one of those where they’re in white pants with bare feet sailing a yacht, smiling at you with gleaming, straight teeth. Justin’s intense stare that I can feel deep inside me, coupled with Pace’s lopsided smile is, overwhelming.
I set my coffee down on the island with shaking hands as Justin stalks toward me.
Justin
Approaching Selena where she stands near the kitchen island, it’s impossible to keep my eyes from slipping down over her curves. Her nipples have hardened against the t-shirt she’s wearing. My t-shirt. I don’t like that she’s on display in front of my brothers. And Pace needs to keep his damn eyes to himself. If I see that dumbass dopey grin on his face one more time, I’m going to punch it off.
Looking at her, and imagining what’s under that t-shirt, I struggle to keep my thoughts clean. My mind wanders back to last night when she stripped for me.
At the auction when she kept her arms locked over her breasts, I assumed there was something she was hiding. I didn’t think it was anything as grotesque as a third nipple – but I’d thought maybe she had a birthmark, or a mole, or some other imperfection she wanted to keep hidden from the men bidding on her. But there was no such imperfection.
Selena was fucking delicious. From her full, heavy tits with small peach colored nipples, to her long, toned legs to her bare pussy – which had been quite unexpected. My cock aches just thinking about it. She’d stripped herself bare for me last night. Her courage was almost overwhelming. She thought I was the one who held the power in our little exchange, but I was smart enough to know, without a doubt, it was her.
I stalk closer and her trembling hands place the cup and saucer on the counter, but her eyes remain on mine – just like I’d reminded her last night. I’m glad she doesn’t cower from me, especially not in front of my brothers.
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