The DILF (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

6: In Which She Retracts Her Claws

6: In Which She Retracts Her Claws

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By the time I was done with the drawing room, even I wanted to become a princess. It didn't matter that I was twenty-eight, therefore far too ancient to picture myself prancing about at a children's tea party wearing pink organza and glass slippers.

Lydia, who had been puttering around in the kitchen for hours on end, came up beside me, her trademark scent of cinnamon wafting into my nostrils as she surveyed my two-hour artwork.

"Seems like you've done this before," she commented, her voice animated. "Ever consider being a kiddies' party-planner?"

I never even liked kids, I thought wryly, reaching up and pulling my unruly mane of hair into a scruffy ponytail. "That's kind of you to say but really, don't you think it's sad that Ophelia's never had any friends over before? I mean, I just want her to have a ball."

Lydia awkwardly bent and picked up a stray pink streamer, twirling it in her hands. "I get paid to cook, not think." She let out a dry laugh. "That was a classic Josie-Bates quote," she elaborated. "I have four grandkids of my own and even with our hardships, I pity little Ophelia. It's not right, a child like that being treated like Rapunzel in a tower."

"I feel the exact same way," I said, glancing out the window and onto the beach. It was a windy Saturday. "Lydia, have you ever met Natalya?"

"No – why?"

I hated the fact that my pale skin meant that I blushed easily. It just wasn't fair.

"I'm just curious. Don't you think her visit's a bit...arbitrary?" I chose my words carefully. "Does Devin – I mean, Mr. Shaw – know she's coming?" I had done nothing but think of the model's impending visit.

Lydia gave me a strange look, her lined face creasing a little more. "I have no idea. In fact, I'm pretty much in the dark about everything that goes on under this roof." She chuckled. "The only thing I do know is what to cook each night, and that's perfectly all right with me. Excuse me, Rory. The cupcakes must be done by now." She turned to leave.

Once she'd gone, I began to pace the room, my hands firmly planted at my sides. I had no idea what had come over me but I knew that I didn't like it. I didn't like the edgy feeling I got when Natalya's name inevitably came up – and it had come up quite a bit in the past few days – or the wistful pang I got when I caught even the slightest glimpse of a scowling Devin stomping angrily through the house and out onto the beach doing whatever it was that he did all the time.

As if my mind had conjured him up all on its own, Devin stepped into the airy room and squinted at the overkill of pink and cuteness. In a black V-necked T-shirt and even darker jeans, he was a humongous contrast to the light of the room. His hair seemed to have grown within the week, unruly and midnight-black and oh-so-thick. Although he was clean-shaven, there was that dangerous edge there; the one that told me that even if he looked as neat as a pin, he was capable of doing the dirtiest things imaginable.

Dammit, I inwardly sighed, patiently waiting for whatever criticism or complaint would inevitably escape his lips. Speaking of lips...

Why did my mind automatically take me there?

"A Jill-of-all-trades, I see," he remarked, his tone even. "Quaint."

"Thanks," I said, hesitantly accepting the compliment.

"And just where is the princess?"

"Upstairs. She's excited. Apparently she's never had any friends over before."