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But it’s not the time to fall for his charm. I’m meeting my brother in a short while. I don’t want to be an aroused mess.
Me: No.
Dion: I didn’t realize that was a question, Aria.
I can’t help but let out a soft sigh, the sound escaping before I even notice. There’s an ache growing inside me, and he’s not helping at all.
I give in.
Me: I miss having you inside me.
It’s true. I miss the way his touch sets my skin on fire, the way his presence envelops me in a cocoon of warmth. The memory of his fingers tracing patterns along my body sends a shiver down my spine.
He makes me feel alive.
Dion: That’s my good girl.
Fuck.
Unable to handle the temptation any longer, I throw my phone onto the bed, trying to shake off the memories and refocus on preparing to meet my brother. I take a deep breath.
I move back to the mirror, brushing my hair with deliberate strokes, hoping the mundane task will help ground me. Think of your grandma, Aria. Or sick puppies. Or hemorrhoids.
Just as I start to regain some composure, my phone vibrates again. The sound cuts through the quiet, making my heart skip a beat. I glance at the bed, my resolve wavering. Another text from Dion. I can almost feel his presence in the room, his voice echoing in my mind.
With trembling hands, I pick up the phone, my eyes scanning the message.
Dion: I’ll be seeing you tonight.
The words send a jolt of excitement through me, reigniting the flames I tried so hard to extinguish.
Then, confusion sets in.
How can we meet tonight? Our deal still stands. On top of that, my brother is coming over soon. I stare at the message.
I type back quickly.
Me: Dion, my brother is coming over tonight. We said we wouldn’t do this again…until I’m better and Andrew is out of the picture.
His response comes almost instantly.
Dion: I’ll find a way, Aria.
Just then, Magda knocks at my door. I put my phone away and quickly run my hands through my hair, trying to calm my desperate, aroused self.
“Arioula, your brother is here.”
44
ARIA
With a final glance around my room, I head out into the hallway lit by the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains.
I start walking, my footsteps echoing lightly on the wooden floor. The walls are lined with family photos, each one a frozen moment of time that seems to watch me as I pass. We still haven’t taken down the ones with my father in them. We can’t bring ourselves to just yet.
It’s strange how even when people hurt you, when they hide the truth and betray your trust, love still clings on.
I straighten my shoulders, trying to shake off the nerves. “It’s just Dimo and your half-brother,” I remind myself. “Just go downstairs and face them.”
