22

Oscar

“Then why the fuck did you ask me?” Dolly asks. I laugh, and I reach for her throat, and I tug her up to myself. I kiss her hard. Then I release her. She falls back onto the bed.

“Because it’s important for us to communicate.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine.”

“I’m not.”

“I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

“And what if I never believe you, Oscar?”

“You will,” I say. I smile at her, and then I climb off of the bed. I stride over to the wooden dresser that stands in the corner.

“What are you doing?” Dolly asks. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back.”

I open the top drawer. I pull out a jar of lotion, and I return to Dolly.

“You seem tense,” I say.

“What?”

“It’s been a long week.”

I wiggle my finger at her, gesturing for her to roll onto her tummy. Somewhat reluctantly, she does.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you with some of the tension.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Stop talking, Dolly.”

She’s quiet as I run my hands over her body.

“You’re very beautiful,” I tell her.

And she is.

“When I first hired you, I thought you’d make a great addition to our team,” I say.

“I thought Becky hired me,” she says.

“Becky was the head of the committee, but the final call was mine.”

“I never knew that.”

“I don’t like for people to know just how involved I can be,” I say.

“Why not? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Maybe,” I say.

“But maybe not?”

“People have a lot of opinions about me,” I say. “Many of them are not good ones, Dolly.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the world can be a pretty terrible place,” I say. “People can do pretty terrible things.”

I grab the jar of lotion and open the lid. Then I rub some of the cream over my hands, warming it against my skin. When I start rubbing her back again, Dolly melts deeper into the bed.

“You think they’re lumping you in with your dad, huh?”

“I do,” I say. “My father was a pretty terrible person. He did pretty terrible things.”

“Plus, he was an awful father.”

“I like that this is what you’re focused on.”

“He was. He didn’t deserve you.”

“That’s very kind of you, pet.”

“Why are you always calling me that?” Dolly asks.

This time, I don’t answer her. Instead, I focus on rubbing my hands over her skin, on relieving the tension she’s been carrying.

“Tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Suddenly, I can’t think of a single thing about myself,” she says. I laugh.

“Isn’t that how it always is?”

“Yeah. In college, I was always terrible at telling interesting facts about myself,” she says. “One of my friends was always super good at it. She told me her secret.”

“What was it?”

“Just lie.”

I pause my rubbing.

“What?”

“I lie,” she says again.

“You lie about your interesting fact?”

Dolly rolls over so she’s facing me.

“Oh, yes,” she says.

“What the fuck, Dolly?”

She laughs. The sound goes straight to my dick. Shit. I’m supposed to be the gentleman here.

“It’s a great idea,” she says. “Want to play?”

“No.”

“We can lie to each other.”

“I don’t want to lie to you, Dolly.”

“Then tell me why I’m still here, Oscar.”

“You’re here because I’m protecting you from your dickhead of a brother.”

“He’s not here. He hasn’t reached out. I’m safe. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” I say. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“You can’t protect me forever,” she says.

“I can try.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Dolly.”

“Oscar.”

“Don’t be such a brat,” I say. She’s so fucking mouthy. All I’m trying to do is give her a massage.

But she smiles up at me, and she smirks.

“What are you going to do to stop me?”