Tuesday, February 12

Brett called the same night about the meeting place but nothing else. He also told me that if I was late and wore my pajamas, he’d kill me.

Who knew he’d be a psychic to predict me showing up at his front porch with a Care Bear onesie just because I woke up late.

I mean it’s not like we’ll be going to a fancy restaurant, right? We’d probably go to an amusement park or zoo. It would be fun, added, everyone wears onesies in public these days.

"What the heck?" he gives me a once over, disapproval clearly written all over his face.

“What?” I shrugged, “I woke up late”

"Figures” He rolled his eyes and let me in. Plucking a gift bag from the coffee table, he shoved the polka-dotted bag at me.

I peeked inside. A laced dress folded neatly under a mesh cloth, and as I pulled it out, the material stopped just above my thighs.

"There’s no way I’m wearing this!"

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He shrugged.

Well, I can name a few. The low cut would expose my boobs. The skirt was too short I bet that if anyone wore it, they would be escorted out for not wearing any pants. Long story short, it wasn’t my style.

“It's just too revealing” I paraphrased, too tired to even argue.

"You'll be going on a date, what did you expect? That we'd stay and have our date here?" That was a thought. "Probably play tag at the park?" He scoffed.

Actually, I was thinking more of a jog at the park, another the more reason for me to be on my onesie, but he didn’t seem to find the humor in that though.

"I've made reservations at a hotel we'll be late if you don't hurry so..." he says sizing me down with those lewd eyes, "get changed."

“Fine," I sighed, my gaze wandering on the bag that was dangling on my left arm. I almost forgot the clothes I borrowed from my last visit. I jerked it towards him all red-faced. "These are the clothes the kids lent me the other day. I washed it."

Examining the article of clothing and with little or less regard, he shoved the bag back. "It's no big deal. It's just my sister’s."

"But she's so small-" I bellowed recalling the little sweet girl.

"My older sister," he amended, "You haven’t met her yet."

Figures.

"I'm sorry I borrowed your sister's stuff without asking..." I say rather sheepishly, a faint flush creeping up my cheeks, “how embarrassing.”

"What are you apologizing for? I doubt she'd even look for it.” He shrugged again “but if you really feel bad we could always," those lips of his quirked into one of his mischievous smirks, "I could always help you get into that"

Pervert.

"In your dreams ya sicko!" I yelped, my cheeks feeling feverish with a blush. "I can manage"

"You sure?" he cooed, taking a step forward and I took a step back, the process continued until I tripped in a not-so-nice position with him on the sofa. Dangerous.

"I c-can manage" I stuttered, sliding off his straddling figure, really dangerous... "BRB."

As I disappear up a flight of stairs, Brett sat back up, a teasing grin playing on his face.

"If you're not back in a minute, I'm coming in to help you." He waved his long fingers and winked. I shuddered at the thought.

"You better not" I’m peeking down the railing half shielding me, "just stay there..."

"You sure?" he teased now lying on his side, propping his head on the palm of his angled arm, "it would be faster if I help you."

"Just shut up and stay there... you...” he’s arching his eyebrows, challenging me to continue, “You stupid pervert!"

The words came out as a quick indecipherable ramble. I'm not sure if he heard all of them after slamming the door shut and locking it.

Pacing back and forth, I considered my options. I could slip into the lacy dress or sneak out of the window. If I went along in that skimpy dress, he’ll probably harass me all day. If I made my escape, I’d probably fall a few feet, maybe break a few bones, but I’ll be far away before he could discover I’m long gone.

But what if he sneaks in my room again? What if he harasses me in front of my mom? Or worse, what if he tries to get me pregnant so that I’m stuck with him for the rest of my life?

My legs felt weak, wobbly as gelatin even. Sighing, I let my body slide down as I leaned against the glass door separating me from the bathroom's indoor sauna. Distracting myself, I scoured the place for the third time, taking in the dazzling sight of familiar expensive toiletries, a fluorescent diamond-encrusted chandelier hanging ever so exquisitely above, and the pearly white floor and walls I spent hours cleaning.

Banging my head against the glass, I was surprised it wasn't hard enough to give me amnesia or brain damage. Staring at my reflection my face mirrored a heavy blush.

Seriously, why do guys have to do that? Making you feel awkward with those perverted words and all... and why is my heart racing?

Get yourself together Paige you can't fall for him. You love Jason right? This guy is an obsessed mafia bastard. Not to mention he is blackmailing you. You can't like him!

As I mentally scolded myself, I warily slid the material over my head, purposefully slowing each action. An arm, then the other, over my chest and just as it was halfway down my abdomen a click came from the door. Without knocking, an impatient Brett made his way inside, skimpy eyes seeking for his prey.

Me.

"Hey!" I shrieked bolting up my feet, cautious and on guard as he came closer. "How did you?"

He flashed the keys between his fingers, a smirk riding his lips, "I told you if you're not out in a minute I'll help you get in it."

"I'm in it already!" I retorted tugging the material down, but no matter how hard I tried, the material came hiking back up, curse him and his analytical ways, I bet he bought this on purpose. Pervert.

Just as I was about to shoot him a glare for giving me a painfully long once over, I notice a tint on his cheeks.

I blinked, is he really blushing? It can’t be. Is he's really blushing?

I must have imagined it. I blinked again.

He's Brett. He's too full of himself to blush at the sight of an ugly girl. I tell myself as he seized my arm, and dragged me out to the hallway.

"Then let's go." He croaks avoiding my gaze and purposefully brushing off any complaints coming from me.

"How about my shoes?" I protest nevertheless as we made our way to the living room. He instructs me to sit on the sofa and I did.

Kneeling on his knees, he pulls out another box, this time from under the coffee table. Placing it on my lap, he plucked the cover to reveal another pair of diamond-encrusted heels.

"Perfect," he says, gently securing the strap in place. His eyes regarded it admiringly, as a shoemaker would worship his craft.

"Whose dress is this?" I whined clenching the thick material of his sofa with both hands, "It better not be your sister’s..."

"It's yours." His tone deadpan. Brushing his slacks, he got back up on his feet.

"What?" I gaped. Eyeing the price tag of the shoebox my eyes grew wide at the sight of the triple digits. Imagine the dress with god only knows how many diamond sequins this damn dress had. "I can't accept this."

"No one would wear it, so it's yours."

"But I don't want it..." I insisted, "Give it to your sister..."

"She doesn't wear these things," he counters, "If you don't want to keep it just burn it when you're done."

That was harsh... why would I burn such a lovely thing? It was especially pricey too. "That'll be a waste..."

There was a smug look on his face, clearly pleased with my dilemma. "Good, now if you don’t have any more complaints," adjusting his suit and angling an arm towards me,

"Let's go, we’re already 15 minutes late."