Hannah #2
Margaret hangs on Dietrich and I remind myself this is all for show and come Monday, my carriage is turning right back into a pumpkin.
But, I can’t help that every time she giggles and pats his arm, I want to tear those earrings straight through her thin, fleshy earlobes. I’m using an inordinate amount of energy to keep my expression pleasant and not knock her feet out from under her with an MMA style leg sweep.
I have no idea how to execute such a move, but I’ve seen it done plenty of times. And the vision of me doing it is making me ridiculously happy right now.
By the time the endless tour gets to the kitchen, I’m annoyed with Dietrich for entertaining her flirtatious giggles and soft touches. And yet, he’s not exactly feeding into it either.
He’s playing his part perfectly.
He’s paired his sexy, menacing glare with the slightest of an upturn in the corner of his lips. I wouldn’t call it a smile really. Not like I saw in the car, anyway. That makes me happy as a rat in a box of Fruity Pebbles because I don’t want him smiling at anyone else.
Ever.
Stomp. Stomp. My Daddy.
I take a breath and close my eyes for a beat. Get a grip, Hannah.
I lean into my pretend daddy because no matter how I try, I can’t fight the gravitational pull he has, and I want to save my energy for my leg sweep with Margaret later.
She guides us through the kitchen, which smells of rich roast beef and cream sauce. I was too nervous this morning to eat and now dinner seems so far away I consider swiping a few of the canapes from the baking sheet as we pass.
Margaret clasps her hands together, centering my focus as she turns to Dietrich.
“I can’t wait to introduce you to Bill and his partners.
They are so looking forward to meeting you and hearing your ideas on solving the staffing issues everyone is having in the industry these days.
They understand you have connections that may be mutually beneficial. ”
“That I may,” Dietrich replies, then quickly pivots. “You are pulling out all the stops for tonight. The MOMA is lucky to have you on their side.”
She’s girlishly pleased with Dietrich’s compliment but even I know it’s a deflection. He has the grifter’s gift, a way of making people think they’re the most important thing in his world while gaining their trust.
Which makes me wonder, is that exactly what he’s doing with me?
She grabs onto Dietrich’s left biceps as though she’s marking her territory, and that leg sweep vision comes back, only this time it’s coupled with a shoulder dislocating arm bar. My guilty pleasure of watching brutal MMA take downs on YouTube may finally come in handy.
“Daddy,” I whisper as Dietrich tugs me closer to his right side, pulling his arm away from Maaaargaret on his left, as the throbbing in my southern hemisphere returns with a vengeance.
“Yes, baby?” he says in that rumbly, wonderful Daddy tone.
“Can we—”
I’m cut off by Margaret’s excited squeal as though Jesus himself has just entered the room. “There you are, my precious boy!”
A young man, probably a few years older than me, with a mop of unkempt brown curls and red rimmed eyes saunters into the room with his hands shoved into the pockets of his rumpled designer suit.
“Dietrich, Jamie, this is my son, Jeremy.” Margaret straightens her spine like he’s her crowning life achievement.
“Jeremy, Dietrich and his daughter are joining us for the event tonight and will be our house guests for the weekend. Jeremy is home from NYU for the weekend. He’s in pre-law. Did you say you’re at NYU, Jamie?”
Did I?
I’m not sure. Even if I did, I didn’t think she was listening to me. Too busy undressing Dietrich in her mind, or so I thought.
Oopsie. This could be a problem.
“It’s a big campus,” I suggest, hoping for no more questions.
Jeremy looks me up and down while licking his overly plump lips, making me shudder as Dietrich’s body hardens next to me. His hand slips down on my belly, pressing me behind him. His chest fills, shoulders square as he steps into Jeremy’s space.
Jeremy’s gaze is fixated on me, a goofy grin plastered on his lips as he sidesteps Dietrich.
“Enchanté,” he greets with a thick, cartoonish French accent, then plucks my hand from my side and raises it toward his face. “It’s always a pleasure to have such beautiful young guests. Especially ones staying the weekend. I’ll surely sniff out your room.”
He tugs my fingers toward his lips.
Yuck. Super yuck.
In a blink, I’m tugged into the warmth of Dietrich’s side, his arm locked around me like a python. I fight my urge to wrap my arms around his waist and do a subtle little dry hump against his thigh.
Dietrich low-key snarls toward Jeremy.
Like, lip curling snarl and I swear those baby blues of his have turned red.
Then, he draws a breath that seems to collect all the available oxygen from around us.
My lungs burn and the tension in my center shoots up my back as I fuss and flutter, playing the shy, offended daughter, because, what the hell? I don’t remember ever having my own father step up for me like this, so I’m going to ride this Daddy wave right into paradise.
“Whoa there, pops. Just being polite.” Jeremy raises his hands on a mocking grin.
“I don’t like anyone touching my daughter.” Dietrich manages with a restrained politeness, but it sounds more like, ‘Step back or your balls are going to end up in the punchbowl’.
Margaret pats Jeremy’s shoulder. “I assure you that my Jeremy didn’t mean any harm. He’s always been too charming for his own good.”
“Clearly,” Dietrich rumbles.
“My apologies,” Jeremy mutters, scratching the back of his neck with no attempt to hide the way his eyes are fixed on my tits. “But I’ll be sure to grab you for a dance later.”
“That won’t be happening,” Dietrich says and it doesn’t feel like he’s acting.
Margaret’s eyes darken but Dietrich doesn’t budge and neither do I.
Margaret sniffs as Jeremy snaps his tongue in his cheek, shooting finger guns my way, then wanders off whistling as Margaret sweeps her hand forward. “I am certain the two of you would like a chance to settle in before the festivities. Allow me to show you to your accommodations.”
As we walk, she drones on about Jeremy and the long list of his superhuman abilities as my upper thighs slip and slide together thanks to the way Dietrich is still hugging me next to him.
Then, at last, we step through a door into a living area larger than my entire house.
It’s tufted and tucked with sumptuous velvet and fabrics that cost more than my father makes in a year.
The scent of white roses fills the air. There are several vases scattered around, filled with the fragrant flowers and I quickly calculate that the cost of those flowers could easily pay the mortgage on our house for two months.
“This is your suite, with connecting bedrooms.” Margaret gestures to two adjacent doors like a flight attendant pointing toward the emergency exits. “Jamie, I think you’ll be comfortable in here.”
We move toward a door to the left and Margaret turns the knob, swinging it open and a blast of Swedish sauna heat takes my breath away.
“Oh my God,” Margaret squeals, pressing her fingertips to her lips.
Dietrich and I lean forward, getting an eyeful of the disaster inside.
“Warm in there,” Dietrich says as he winks my way.
“I don’t understand…” Margaret flutters and flusters.
Inside the room, the expansive leaded glass window is shattered, the oppressive heat from outside taking over.
Shards of glass cover the floor and the bed as a black drone the size of a double large pepperoni pizza is buzzing and twitching on the satin pillows.
“Noooo…the photographer was taking aerial images of the event. He must… He must have…” Margaret murmurs, shaking her head. “I’m so embarrassed, there are no other bedrooms available. I—I… I suppose I could put Jamie in the pool house.”
“No,” Dietrich snaps. “We don’t mind sharing a bedroom, do we, babygirl?”
Gulp.
He slips his fingers into mine as I do my best to stay in character.
He continues with, “Back in the days before I was the man I am now, we had a tiny one bedroom bungalow and Jamie would climb into bed with me almost every night. It will be like old times. Isn’t that right, angel?”
He pins me with those hypnotic blue eyes and my insides turn to warm goo.
Gulp.
One bed.
“Oh no,” Margaret chitters. “What would people think?”
“Like I give a shit what they think,” Dietrich says as Margaret’s eyes go wide.
“Forgive me, I’m not one to worry about what other people think.
Wolves don’t consider the opinions of sheep, am I right?
” Dietrich challenges her with a nod. “Understand, as a father and a family man, Jamie is mine to protect and there are male guests here. She will stay with me. Subject closed.”
The room spins as Dietrich’s hand sweeps down my back.
“I… suppose…” Margaret says, her lips attempting a frown. “I’ll have extra sheets delivered for you to make yourself comfortable on the Davenport, Dietrich. It’s not really designed for sleeping, so I don’t know how you’ll manage.”
“I’ll manage,” Dietrich grumbles as I clench my inner thighs, unsure if I can remain upright much longer.
“Very well,” Margaret says. “Your bags are there. I’m so embarrassed about this.”
“We will just keep that door closed. It will be our secret,” I say with saccharine sweetness, smiling as she glares back. Then Dietrich leads her to the door, saying a polite goodbye as he turns my way.
“We will have some secrets of our own, little girl, won’t we?”