Chapter 71 Masochist

Chapter 71 Masochist
Braide

Family issues? What family issues? I want to slap my face and finally focus on what's right in front of me.

But how can I even do that? I lost my senses the second her fingers dabbed in spirit brushed past my nostrils.

She was touching herself. I'm certain of that, I smelt her juices from the minute I hugged her.

Sure I wanted to rattle Dmitry's feathers after Rhonda came home in tears but seeing her wrapped in a silk robe, hair in a bonnet and her pretty eyes on me. Not Dmitry, me.

It struck a possessive nerve in me and I needed her in my arms.

Now, sitting across from her watching those intense eyes egging me to continue my supposed plea for help I can't help but curse myself.

I'm sure jealous of Dmitry Orlov. He gets her whenever he wants and yet…

“Aren't you going to say something?” She asks, snapping my attention back to her.

And I scratch the back of my head. Right. Family issues.

Roxanne? Rhonda? She hates Rhonda a ton, so she wouldn't give a shit about her and Roxanne kind of loves her a lot that she added her to her emergency contacts.

“Rhonda was here last night, right?” I blurt out, unsure of where my brain was leading us to.

She huffs an angry air and turns away reaching for another ice pack.

“Yeah?” She answered, bored.

Darn, never seen anyone hate Rhonda that much, well except Sylvia.

“I know you hate my sister a lot, but here me out. She came home in tears last night and I really need to know what happened here.”

That's better, right? She won't notice that the only reason I'm here is because for some reason I missed her. That my entire body still prickles in pleasure from the slap she gave me the last time.

Am I a masochist? Fuck.

“You'll have to discuss it with Dmitry, really. He refused to tell me about it and I've chosen not to ponder about it too.” She says, heading straight to the sink doing dishes.

I sit on the counter, the ice pack pressing to my nose as I watch her rant about how Dmitry keeps these secrets and she just doesn't care. But we both know she does.

“Twenty times in two minutes.” I point out, making her pause. She throws a menacing glare my way.

“What?” she pricks. Her eyes are slicing, but instead of looking mean, she looks fucking adorable.

“You've talked about the same thing, rinsing that singular dish for the past two minutes. You don't need to lie to me, darling.”

She dries her hands and pads away from the kitchen, a small laugh erupts through me as I follow her trail.

“I'm going to shower.” She calls as she climbs up the stairs, shutting my eyes so I don't start imagining her in the bathroom naked.

“I’ll be right here, darling.” I pat the leather couch, letting myself sink into it and she shakes her head as she climbs up the stairs.

The room smells like pinecones, liquor and vanilla. Trust me, the mixture is both sweet and very manly. It doesn't make me feel like throwing up… but what the fuck, Braide.

Analyzing how a room smells now?

I can leave now, tell Gianna something came up… as I plot my escape plan I hear footsteps from behind me and I snap towards the sound.

Dmitry lazily gazes at me, and a disgusting smirk plays on his lip.

“Finally, your nose doesn't look bad on your face. I’ll try to fix your face next time,” he chimes, taking the seat next to me, crossing his right leg over the other, seeming proud of his fine art.

“Surely, I could never think of how else to pay you.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head like I’ve said something mildly entertaining instead of outright disrespectful.

A thick annoying silence stretches between us and I shift in my chair, needing some kind of distraction from his lack of words.

“She doesn't need you flocking around her,” he says after a while, voice casual and I almost miss the danger in it.

I lean back deeper into the couch, pressing the ice pack lightly against my nose. “And miss whatever this is?” I gesture lazily around the house. “I’d hate myself.”

His jaw ticks and that little composure he's been holding onto after punching slowly slips away.

“Stop poking your nose where it shouldn't be.”

I grin. “Didn’t you already fix that problem?”

That earns me a sharp look and he bites the insides of his cheeks.

“I don't want anything to do with you or your sister. Fucking let us be.”

“Funny,” I tilt my head slightly. “I didn't mention Rhonda.”

His expression hardens and he stands abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “I don't need you to mention her to know this is her doing.”

I nearly burst into fits of laughter, he really thinks I give a shit about my sister's love life? That I’d want to see his stupid face for her?? I love my sister, but not that much.

“Yeah?” I hum, tapping my fingers against the armrest. “If you want Rhonda out of your life, then make it fucking clear. Be a fucking man, Dmitry.”

My words hit him hard like a blow, and he visibly winces at them and for a split second something close to regret flashes through his features before he masks it again with a grim smile.

The sounds of footsteps echo faintly from upstairs and both our heads tilt to the sound.

Shit, she's already done? I didn't even get the chance to think further about my plan and how to execute it.

I watch Dmitry though, how he waits patiently for her presence to be made known and something clicks in my head.

“Tell me something,” I murmur, eyes drifting lazily toward the stairs. “Does she know?”

The last grain of control snaps, his head snaps toward me, eyes dark and nearly possessed.

“Shut up.” He grits between teeth, veins popping at the sides of his head.

I chuckle under my breath, “Don't worry your secret is safe.”