the sitter | lewandowski

twenty

20 ; "happy" holidays

A week had passed, and as Saoirse saw the weight on Robert's shoulders grow larger and larger every day, she knew that her time was running out—and despite planning to admit to whoever she needed to that she should be the one at fault for Anna's death, she was afraid.

The stocks for Allianz had gone down, discreetly, in value—nearly every single day. Her father had a plan, and his plan was working—all of the rumors about Robert were affecting his company, and he was working so many hours overtime that Saoirse found herself back where she started: as the sitter.

At this point, Aleksander didn't seem to care about the fact that Saoirse was working for Robert, despite the small battle going on between the two. It was a battle, anyways—but everything changed on the first day of Christmas break, the day in which Saoirse's older sister arrived in order to spend the holidays with her birth parents and her adopted younger sister.

Ivana Mihajlović was a socialite, something like the Paris Hilton of any country she was currently living in—but always Montenegro, her home. She was tall, thin, and artificial; ill-mannered, bitchy, and, of course, spoiled.

"This house is dreadful." Was the first thing she said, upon her arrival to her parents' new mansion in Munich. "It looks as though ghosts inhabit the place. Like that one season of American Horror Story."

"We haven't really had the time to decorate." Saoirse responded, taking her sister's coat. "Where's your boyfriend? The car racer?"

Ivana let out a cynical laugh. "I left him, Saoirse, long ago. The moment I learned you guys were living next to the worlds sexiest bachelor, I knew I had to take action. I've had my sights set on Robert Lewandowski for a very long time."

Saoirse couldn't hide the disappointment on her face as it ran flat, and she frowned. "So, what? You want to marry him, or something?"

"I want to fuck him first, and we'll see what happens from then on." Ivana spoke, causing Roisin to gasp.

"Ivana, not around your sister."

"Oh, please." Ivana rolled her eyes. "Saoirse is nearly an adult, and we all know she's no angel. Are you a virgin, Saoirse?"

"Ivana!" Roisin hissed. "Saoirse, why don't you show your sister to her room?"

"Alright." Saoirse muttered, taking Ivana's arm and guiding her up the staircase.

"So? Answer my question. You can trust me, I won't tell our parents." Ivana spoke, as Saoirse opened the door to the room Nova had once slept in. She would've used the one Robert had slept in, but it still smelled like him, and he'd even left his t-shirt—on the nights in which they couldn't be together, Saoirse found herself sleeping in that bed often.

"No, I'm not a virgin." Saoirse plainly responded, her gaze meeting Ivana's. Their relationship had never been loving or sisterly, but instead more like/hate—Ivana had never wanted a sibling, and unlike most older children, had never gotten used to Saoirse's existence, especially because it meant less attention was on her. The saying opposites attract was definitely a correct one—because Saoirse and Ivana were practically the same, and they were incompatible. "In fact, I'm just as sleazy as you." She threw on, raising an eyebrow. This was their idea of banter.

"Proud of you, then. Who'd you lose it to?"

"A man."

"A man? A grown man?"

"A grown man," Saoirse repeated.

Ivana smiled. "Leave me now, Saoirse. I've got to get a beauty rest before I go out tonight."