Fuck it. I'm here, and I'm going to make the best of it.
Leaving my suitcase on the floor, I decide to go find Sia. I'm settled in enough, there isn't much else for me to do. Closing the door behind me, I walk down the hall, checking out the fancy sculptures and high end art on the walls.
I don't hear anyone at all. No voices, no one laughing or chatting. This place is huge. My shoes echo off the vaulted ceilings and marble floor as I explore her home. Finally, I hear sounds somewhere in the distance.
Following the sound, I round a corner to find Siobhan in the kitchen. She's got two glasses in front of her, and is about to pour orange juice when she hears me come in.
She lifts her head and looks at me, smiling. I smile back, tucking my hands in my pockets as I lean against the counter.
“I'm sorry I dropped in on you like this. I wasn't thinking. I just had to see you. I know I should have called or something first, but—”
She quickly holds a finger to her lips, silencing me as she darts her eyes around. Reaching out she grabs my shirt and pulls me in for a kiss. It's quick, but it's enough for me to know where she stands.
Pushing me back, Sia puts a safe distance between us. “Don't apologize. I'm really glad you're here.” Pouring some vodka in the juice, she stirs it lightly and hands me a glass. Raising it up, we knock glasses. “I think a screwdriver is warranted for this occasion.” Smirking from behind her glass, she takes a long sip.
“I couldn't agree more.”
“So, you think you're too tired from the flight to do a little sightseeing?” Winking, her smile brightens. She nibbles on her bottom lip, tugging on it gently.
“I'm definitely not too tired for anything.”
I want to touch her so badly. Sneak over to her, kiss her neck softly, run my hands through her hair, and give it a good tug. Except, I can't. The way her eyes keep shifting around cautiously tells me someone could pop in at any moment. The slight danger is turning me on. The thought of getting caught, the idea of doing something that we're not supposed to is making my cock throb.
“So,” I say, “I can see where you get your love of art from.” Pointing to a picture hanging on the wall, I give her another flirty smile.
Her eyes move to the picture, falling down hard. “Yeah, not exactly. My mother buys art because it’s expensive, not because she likes how it looks. The bigger the price tag, the better it must be. She says we're the people who buy the art, not the ones that make it, because artists are poor and live worse than the rats in the streets.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn't realize.”
“No, it's fine. I don't care what she thinks, I love painting, and nothing she says will change that.”
“Good, because it shouldn't. It's important to do what makes you happy. Why do you think I'm here?”
Sia looks up at me with a full smile, her eyes twinkling like stars. Dipping her head, she darts her eyes to the door for the hundredth time. “You're right, but try telling my parents that. They have expectations that are sky high. So, telling her that her only daughter wants to be an artist and not a doctor won't go over well.”
“Maybe, but is pleasing her and your father worth more than your own happiness?”
She stops, her entire body going still as she thinks about it. I don't get an answer. “How about we do some sightseeing now? What do you think?”
“I think that sounds great. I'm ready, take me out on the town.”
“Good, let me go tell my mother, and we can get the hell out of here.” She nods her head for me to come with her. “She's probably in her study.” I follow her through the maze that's her house. Stopping outside a door, she knocks lightly. “Mom, you in there?”
“What do you want, Siobhan?”
“I'm going to take Mark out for a bit.”
“Open the door,” she orders.
Sia opens the door with me standing behind her, and her mother gives me a look that hits me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. It's that look again, the same death glare.
“I expect you to be back for dinner.”
“Of course, I know. Six o'clock, same as always.”
Arching a brow, she sets her hands down on her desk, and pulls her glasses to the tip of her nose. “I spoke with your father, he's not too happy.”
“All right. What do you want me to do?” she asks, her voice stern, challenging her mother.
“I want you to be aware of how your actions affect other people. Is that too much to ask?”