Page 56 of Brutal Prince

TWENTY SEVEN

Gretta

Be careful. You know the drill. I’ll be waiting in the car only a phone call away.

Me: Thank you. I know how to handle him

I took deep breath, tapped on his apartment door and stood back. I needed space and fresh air before I stepped inside the furnace. What I was doing was completely and utterly stupid, but I believed it was our only way.

Bugs were already planted in his apartment two days previously. All we needed now was a confession. A man like Dom was far too cocky and self-assured to ever believe that someone could find him out. Worse of all, if they did discover his dirty little secrets, he was confident in the fact that Daddy or some other member of the S & C would get him off.

What I was battling with was my personal feeling towards him. I hungered for touch from the moment met him at age twelve and I yearned for his approval even now. Even now at nineteen, seven years later, I’m wedged between extreme hatred and a toxic love towards him.

This won’t be easy, but it’s necessary.

He took his sweet ass time answering the door, which I’m sure, was deliberate to create tension and anxiety. It worked.

“You don’t need to wear that,” I told him when he opened the door a crack, a macabre white masquerade mask peering back at me.

A muffled chuckle exuded out from him as he opened the wider. “I thought you were getting used to it.”

“I’ll never get use to it.”

“Fine.” He slowly and tauntingly peeled it off and my heart stilled. A devilish smile painted on that beautiful face and my entire body quivered all over. I thought I’d be able to hide my attraction to him, but I couldn’t stop looking at him. I felt utterly plain in his presence. I was plain compared to him.

He looked me up and down and shook his head disapprovingly. “I think we need more appropriate attire than what you’re wearing.”

My cheeks burned red mostly out of sheer embarrassment. I was wearing a dress I bought from Walmart, a classy-ish number that hugged my curves with a low cut neckline. My black heels also bought from Walmart.

He was wearing a black buttoned shirt tucked into black dress pants and looked so hot and handsome with little effort.

“This is the best I can do,” I told him.

“No, no, no. Knowing you were coming over, I bought you a nice dress to wear. I can’t have my date wearing,” pointing at my dress, “whatever slutty crap this is.”

As soon as he disappeared up the hall, I glanced around the apartment wondering where the bugs were. It was an open-plan space, a little too dark for my liking with modern kitchen shiner than a newly polished dime, and the living room was large with couches you can sink right into. My entire two-bedroom apartment was virtually the same size as his living room.

He returned with a long, elegant navy blue dress that I floored me as soon as I touched it.

“I thought the color would suit the brightness of your hair. And why do you dye your hair so bright?”

“I just…like it.”

“But it retracts from your most attractive feature,” tucking a short curl of my hair behind my ear. “Your eyes.” He gently grazed his thumb across my long eyelashes, moving it down my cheek to my bottom lip and running it along, licking his lips hungrily as he did so.

“You always said my eyes were like a doe’s eyes,” I reminded him.

“I said that? I don’t think so.”

He did. He said it was the look in a doe’s eye before she was shot by a hunter - expectant, fearful and mistrusting. But curious, always curious.

He ran his palms over my hips taking a bunch of fabric in his hands. “Arms up.”

I raised my arms above my head and he slowly peeled my dress off, leaving me standing there in my underwear and heels. His greedy eyes ate my body up and I crossed arms over my breasts feeling vulnerable.

“I can’t have you dressed like a cheap whore for dinner,” he said, unzipping the back of the navy dress and urging me to step into it. It fitted as it was molded from my body and I felt beautiful wearing it. Yet, I knew I wasn’t as beautiful as his girlfriend, the daughter of the senator with her perfect model features, flawless skin, golden hair never out of place. The ideal wife for him.

Everything he did was deliberate and calculating from the measured speed he zipped me back up to how long it took him to answer the door. Without a doubt, he’d have the evening all planned out methodically and in his favor.

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