You Are Mine Little Sister (by Syra Tucker) novel Chapter 89

I slapped composure into my bones as I straightened my spine.

"Mr. Knightley."

I tried. God, I fucking tried to keep the voice out. But it forced itself into my mind.

«Do you think he'll know you gagged on my cock, Green?»

«Do you think he'll know you showed me your pussy while you fucked it because I asked?»

«Your boss, I mean»

Oh, God. I felt I was being punished for something. This was mental torture.

"Zerali." Grayson glanced over my shoulder at the restroom I just left. "You spent quite some time in there."

My heart tripped over itself.

"Oh... Sorry about that," I said with a nervous smile.

Sorry, for what, Rali? You were in the girl's restroom, not committing war crimes.

By the way, what was he doing here? The men's restroom was on the opposite end of the floor.

"Did you need help with something, sir?"

"No." His usual cold mask snapped back over his face. "I just wanted to inform you you'll be accompanying me to Vlyrissa Thorne's house tomorrow."

Oh. I've actually been worried about her.

"I think she lost someone important yesterday. Do you think she's better now?" I asked with concern.

"She's good." He turned around to leave.

"Um ...sir, may I know the reason I'm going with you? I thought I was done with her yesterday."

He paused just a second. He still had his hands pocketed as he gave me the same look he reserved for underperforming staff.

He's changed towards me since I turned down his 'proposal.'

"You'll know when we get there."

His shoes clacked down the corridor as he left.

I found it a little strange. He's never asked me to accompany him somewhere unless it was for a business purpose. But he didn't sound like we were going to Vlyrissa's for business.

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡

RALI

Smoke. Cedarwood. Whisky.

The unholy trinity that clung to the devil, and the one sign that told me said devil was behind me.

I'd left the bedroom for the dining in a weak attempt to escape him. Being at the dining wasn't easy either, considering it was one of the 'crime' scenes, but it felt safer than being trapped in the room with him.

Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Ray playing from my headphone while I sketched was supposed to be a good distraction. It 'was' a good distraction, until that twisted scent that only belonged to him snuck into my lungs and alerted me on his presence.

Chills rippled across my skin.

He was here.

He was behind me.

My fingers froze mid-sketch just as he slid the headphones off my ears. Shit. Now, I really had to acknowledge him.

Who said so, though? Nervous Rali remained stiff, not moving a bone in her neck.

His tattooed hand gripped my eyes when it set my headphones down beside my sketchpad.

It was fine. I still managed to 'feel' fine.

But then, he leaned forward, placing one hand on either side of me at an angle that had me caged between himself and the table.

Oh, God.

He was careful not to touch me, but his face hovered above my shoulder, close enough to haunt.

"Quite impressive. The dress, I mean." His voice, this very one dipped in apathy and arsenic, the kind that strokes your hair while pushing you into a pit of destruction, should be a goddamn felony.

"Thanks," my voice was so low, I doubted I actually said the word out.

Time stretched and warped. I didn't even realize I'd stopped sketching until he spoke again.

"Care to explain?"

It took me way longer than necessary to understand he was talking about the sketch and not the tattoos I'd been ogling at.

"Um... " I shifted in my seat. "It's a ball dress. It's still at the skeleton stage. So, it probably won't make much sense to you."

"Hmm." He did that low hum that made my sanity take a step back. "Make it make sense. I'm interested."

Huh?

I blinked at the half-finished sketch in front of me. Well, I've never had to explain my work to anyone. My colleagues didn't need a lecture because they understood rough sketches. Veronica would doze off before I finished describing the neckline.

He chuckled, like riling me up was his favourite game.

"I'm just kidding, Green. You can sit on the roof if you want. Long as it's my roof."

I gulped and somewhere, my past self threw a side-eye and muttered, "pathetic."

He must know the effect he had on me because he gifted me that smile resembling the devil's business card.

"You haven't given me an update on Creighton!" I rushed out, right as he turned away.

Finally, my brain was working again.

He paused. "I'm still working on him."

"You still haven't reached him?"

"I need time to do my job, Rali. Why don't you focus on your sketchpad while I get my hands dirty for you?"

Before I could argue, the doorbell rang.

I turned toward the sound just in time to see the trio stepping into the house.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here," Eric beamed. "I swear, if you weren't taken, Rali, I'd—"

"You'd what?" Void gave a cold smile, his expression like someone genuinely interested in the conversation.

Eric's hands went up. "Nothing, boss. Just admiring beauty from afar. Like a painting, you know? No touching. No breathing too close."

"Good. Because the last man that called her beautiful was cut open."

"Ugh, I still remember the terrific night," Eric's face crumpled with mock irritation. "I took care of the bodies and it still haunts me to this day."

Miles shook his head at Eric's dramatic display while I lowered my gaze to my lap, the reminder of Adam's death hitting hard.

Void stalked toward his office, and while Miles and Eric followed him, Katya peeled herself from the group and stepped toward me.

Okay... what did she want?

"Hey, green eyes. You seem busy." She leaned over on the table, her eyes on my sketchpad.

I caught sight of her tattoo again since she was very close to me. And her hair... I wondered what the length would look like if she didn't have it in a ponytail.

I didn't trust her. Everything about her was cold and devious. Even right now as she leaned over the table, acting like she was interested in my sketch—which I find very strange—I knew she was about to do something fishy.

"How's it going, by the way?" Her coffee eyes met mine. "The whole therapy thing, I mean. You know... the one where you mentally swap the face of your fucker with someone else's when he's inside you?"