Page 3 of Pretend for Me

“My parents were going to name me Peter, you see.” Dear God, please stop this verbal sewage. It’s rare, but this is what happens whenever I get nervous. I babble on until someone—usually Nisha—slaps me upside the head like an old glitching TV. “You know, Peter Parker, like Spiderman?”

Dev blinks at me without so much as a word. He’s not a talker, this one.

“You know,‘With great power comes great responsibility,’and all that?” I continue, trying to explain Spiderman’s curse. “But then I turned out to be a girl and?—”

“Ms. Piper?” Dev finally interrupts me, releasing his hand from my never-ending handshake. “Could we get started, say, in this decade? I have an important board meeting in an hour.”

“Yes! Yes, of course.” I jump into action, waving him over to the salon chair. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He shakes his head before his sharp eyes sweep over my room, adorned with masculine decor and hues. An oversized TV dominates one wall, while shelves lined with vintage whiskey bottles and grooming products flank another. He also takes note of the cat tree in one corner but doesn’t question it.

He settles himself in between me and the mirror, and I adjust his chair to the correct height, noting the thickness of his locks and the clear whites around his deep chestnut eyes. They’re framed with a dark thicket of lashes that would make models weep.

And let’s not even get started on his razor-edged jawline or the perfect amount of dark scruff over his tanned cheeks. And I’ll definitely steer clear of his apparent rows of abdominal muscles and biceps that could crack walnuts. Focus on the haircut, Piper. Leave the ogling for later.

From my limited knowledge, Dev is the heir to his father’s multi-billion-dollar tech business. His father is of Indiandescent, his mother American. And while Dev was born and raised solely in the States, he’s fluent in over seven languages.

Things you learn whileEntertainment Tonightis blaring in the background as you beg your rabbits to breed . . .

I sweep my fingers into his hair, grazing my nails over his scalp, feeling Dev shift in his seat with a clearing of his throat. Our eyes connect in the mirror before he quickly averts his gaze. “God, you’re so long and thick.”

Eyes colliding again, my cheeks heat in mortification, but I swear the slightest flare erupts inside his molten browns.

It’s my turn to clear my throat. “I mean, your hair is so full and wavy. A hair stylist’s dream, really. Now, what are you thinking of doing today? A trim or going shorter?”

“Just a trim, please.”

“Can do!” I say, just as my curious cat makes her way out to inspect our new client. I’m sure she’s wondering the same thing I am: what is that delicious cologne he’s wearing?

Dev follows Vajayjay through the mirror with mild discomfort. “Is that . . .? What is that?”

Before I can answer, and to my utter disbelief, Vajayjay hops into his lap. This abused feline, distrustful of all men—the same one we rescued with her siblings from a run-down trailer park after discovering the junkies living there were putting out cigarette butts on their flesh—actually decides to cozy up on a man’s lap for the first time in the three years I’ve had her.

My jaw drops, and considering everything else that’s spewed past my lips over the past few minutes, I really should have snapped it closed again.

But of course, I don’t.

“She’s my hairless pussy, Vajayjay. And it seems she’s rather fond of you.”

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piper

Feel Free To Work Your Fingers In Her

Dev’s hands hover apprehensively over my cat, inspecting her with the same cautious interest one might reserve for a slimy tapeworm peeking out of a pile of poop. “Does she bite?”

My lips curl into a smile. He’s making this too easy. “My pussy or my cat? Because depending on which one you’re asking about, it would be a different answer.”

For reasons beyond my comprehension, watching this gorgeous and intimidating man nervously consider how to pet a cat is both charming and hilarious. Seeing this softer side of him, so far removed from the imposing and influential man who came in not too long ago, eases my nerves and makes me feel more comfortable around him.

“Your pus—” The slightest tint settles on Dev’s cheeks, and I have to hold back my giggle. “Uh, this cat.”

“Oh. Then no, she doesn’t bite.” I smile at the gray and pink feline now curled on Dev’s lap before trying to suppress another yawn with the back of my hand. “Goodness, me! I don’t know what’s gotten into me today. I’ve been yawning all morning.”

Dev tentatively strokes Vajayjay’s back, his fingersexploring her wrinkled skin. I remember that feeling—the first time I held her. Her flesh felt like oiled leather, and I remember thinking how beautiful she was. Unique and misunderstood.

Mom’s always said the same about me.

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