December 22, 2010 1:35 p.m.
By the time I got out of there, Graeme and her brother have vanished from sight. Humphrey, noticing my distress, sends me a grandfatherly smile. "May I assist you, miss?" he asks gently, lowering his voice an octave.
"Um, yes." I smile awkwardly, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. "Can you point me in the direction of Graeme's room?" It's common knowledge that in times of crisis, girls flee to their sanctuaries to grumble and sulk in private - I figure even for snarky villains-in-training like Graeme, that rule applies.
"Third floor," Humphrey imparts, "and then turn left when you reach the landing. Go all the way to the end of the hall. It's the very last door."
"Thank you." I'm grateful for the reassuring, twinkling smile he gives me. With a fresh bout of courage, I set off, following his directions down to the letter. This is the last place I want to get lost; a house like this is bound to have a torture chamber or dungeon, after all.
As I walk, I have time to dissect Graeme and her brothers. Levi clearly seems to be the black sheep of the family. He had almost no interaction with Rhona and Marcus, and the fact he was seated so far away from Graeme and Wolfram implies he isn't that close to them, either.
Wolfram's hostility is entirely unwarranted and frankly, bordering on offensive. If I was on home turf, I would have demanded an explanation, but Xander works for his family and I don't want to jeopardize whatever friendship he has with the van der Waals by confronting Wolf.
Graeme's hostility, on the other hand, is crystal-clear. I barely know her but I get the impression that she's the kind of girl who doesn't have a lot of girl friends. We don't have to be friends, but we don't have to be enemies either. I'm no threat to her relationship, or lack of, with Xander. I'll forgive her obvious jealousy as long as she retracts the claws - and more importantly, doesn't try to sink them into my best friend.
I'm just not so sure she'll forgive me that easily. As an only child, I've never had to deal with a parent favoring a sibling over me - I can only imagine how much more it hurts when a parent favors a stranger over his own daughter. Thanks a lot, Marcus.
Thinking distracts me from the heinous trek up the stairs. Three damn floors of them. It's oppressively hot in the house and my sweater isn't really helping; my armpits feel slightly damp and my back feels a little sticky, too. By the time I reach the landing, I'm feeling sufficiently gross. I turn right and walk to the end of the hall. I'm expecting to hear angry, plaintive bitching, but it's curiously silent. I glance left, glance right. It's so quiet I could hear the proverbial pin drop.
I raise my hand and knock on the door with three steady raps. I wait a moment but when I can hear no noise inside, I knock again. "Graeme?" I call out softly. My mind spins with possibilities and then lands on the most likeliest one - she exhausted herself by crying into her pillow and fell asleep. Do I really want to wake a sleeping dragon?
My need to put things right with her wins out over self-preservation and I turn the doorknob, trying to stifle my sense of dread. "Graeme?" I whisper cautiously, opening the door and stealthily slipping inside. The bed is empty. In fact, something about the room feels wrong.
It's not girly and dainty with pastels and florals, it's masculinely monotone. The bedding and walls are navy-blue with crisp white pillows and white throw rugs over the polished wood floor. The furniture is a set; the dresser, desk, and end tables are made from the same wood and are neatly arranged with books, electronics, and copper gooseneck lamps. A black lace bra is slung carelessly on the footboard of the bed. Like everything else about Graeme, it looks expensive.
There are two doors on the far side of the wall; one must be a bathroom door, the other a closet. I have a ridiculously inappropriate urge to take a peek inside her closet. It's probably a walk-in, I muse. With designer shoes and handbags lining the walls.
On the desk is a family portrait with the house in the background. Looking closely, I notice that Marcus and Levi are conspicuously absent. Hella weird, I think to myself. Graeme has her arm around her brother's waist, grinning broadly at the camera. Wolf is in the center of the shot, his mother's hand on his shoulder as she beams with maternal pride.
I can't help but smile. Wolfram looks relaxed and at-ease, his smile more genuine than I have ever seen it. He's handsome, I've always known that, but in the picture he looks downright friendly and approachable. I'm immediately reminded of the hesitant smile he almost sent me at breakfast. How is it possible to long for a crumb of kindness from someone who doesn't seem to have it in his repertoire, I chastise myself gruffly. I'm being an idiot.
Graeme obviously isn't here so I'm about to creep out of there when I hear a distinctly female voice purr, "is that you, Wolf?"
Realization hits me too slow. This isn't Graeme's room.
I attempt a madcap dash for the door, but it's too late to save myself.
"I'm taking the towel offffff!" sing-songs the voice again, throaty with desire. Oh my god, no! Keep the towel on!
The bathroom door opens and a nude female sashays out, walking with her hips. I can't hold back my startled squeal and immediately turn around, eyes wide.
"Who are you?" screeches the voice. "Wolf!" She drags his name out for a solid twenty seconds with at least a dozen exclamation points.
Goosebumps prickle all over my skin. Maybe I should be more concerned about the fact I'm about to get busted, but right now all I can think about is how gorgeous that unidentified female was. Wavy golden hair falls beneath her breasts and her bee-stung lips rival even Wolfram's. Her golden skin is flushed from the shower and the ends of her hair were damp. She has a perfect Barbie-doll figure; a trim, cinched waist and curves in all the right places. It kinda bothers me that I know that about her.
"WOLF!" she screeches again, going full banshee-mode. "WOLFFFFF!!!!!"
I shield my eyes with the flat of my hand and turn around to face her. "I'm so sorry," I start to babble incoherently, her screaming drowning out my words.
"I'm freakin' decent now, you pervert," she spits out.
I split my fingers apart, peeking at her. She's wrapped a fluffy chartreuse towel around herself. It compliments her hair and tanned skin perfectly. Her eyes narrow at me spitefully.
"What's going on?" a familiar female voice demands from behind. Oh no.
Turning, I see a furious Wolfram standing behind Graeme. Double oh no.
"What are you doing here?" he grinds out, looking more pissed than I've ever seen him. And considering how often he aims that look at me, I should know. To my surprise, however, he bypasses me and strides right to the nearly-nude girl. Unfazed by her kittenish smile, he scowls fiercely. "Why are you in my room, Diana? I already told you, I'm not interested in getting back together."
Graeme sidles up next to me, watching the proceedings with naked interest. I glance at her curiously, but she studiously avoids looking at me.
"Don't think you're not next," she whispers from the corner of her mouth. "What the hell are you doing here, Charlotte?"
"I came to apologize to you," I hiss back.
Graeme's blue eyes widen infinitesimally. "What?" Her thin eyebrows knit together like the concept of apologizing is totally foreign to her.
"I've apologized to you already, Wolf! What else do I have to do to make it up to you?" croons Diana. I can finally put a face to the name. And a few other body parts too, I inwardly wince.
"You can leave." Wolf's voice is stony.
Diana's face falls. "Wolf..." she starts to say, her voice bordering on a whimper. "I came all the way to this godforsaken country to be with you."
"I asked you to come for Christmas to meet my family when we were together. Now that we're not, you're just a gatecrasher."
"Wolf!" she half-whines, half-barks.
"Shut up, you're doing a number on my eardrums," Wolf growls.
Graeme hides a smile.
"What is she doing in your room, anyway?" Diana demands. "She doesn't look like your usual type." She sniffs in distaste as she looks at my outfit.
I scowl at her; those in green towels should not throw stones.
"She has every right to be here," Wolf informs her loftily, looking down his nose at his ex with a disgusted expression.
My ears perk up, as do Graeme's. For once he's acknowledging me instead of making it painfully obvious that I'm only being tolerated for Xander's sake?
"She's my girlfriend."
Graeme masks her gasp with a cough at the same time Wolf reaches his hand out to me. Does he expect me to take it? I stand still as a statue, gaping at him. Finally, picking up the frayed threads of my courage, I cross the distance between us and gingerly place my hand in his. Wolf's fingers are warm as they wrap around mine, pulling me to his side. We stand shoulder to shoulder in front of Diana, our hands linked between us.
A blush is creeping steadily from the top of her chest, her cheeks turning blotchy as she stares in apparent humiliation at us. I can't believe I've joined forces with Wolfram for what is clearly a ploy to get his ex off his back after the way he's treated me, but I also can't deny how toe-tingling good it feels to stand this close to him. His body warmth radiates off him, warming me in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with temperature.
"You're really together?" Diana looks at Graeme for confirmation.
"Duh," Graeme scathingly replies.
It's the kind of response I wouldn't expect someone like Graeme to make, but there she goes again, surprising me.
Then again, the whole family is full of surprises. Wolf leans close to my cheek, his breath hot and faintly peppermint-y. "Darling, we should start getting ready," he murmurs. Turning to Graeme and Diana, he arches an eyebrow. "Girls, do you mind?"
Diana flees the room quickly, not even stopping to grab her bra from the footboard. Graeme just smirks at us before she closes the door behind her.
"So I guess you'll be wanting an explanation," Wolf sighs.
"That would be helpful." I'm trying to quell my raging butterflies but it's hard when he's standing this close to me and our hands are still together. He doesn't seem to realize that he can let go, because he keeps his hand entwined with mine. I'm a little amused at the fact that I just had to fake being his girlfriend; this kind of thing only happens in movies.
"So," Wolf takes a deep breath. "Here's the thing. I need you to be my girlfriend for the duration of your visit."
Author's Note: Hot damn. Things just got real. What did you guys think of this chapter? Do you think things are changing for Wolfram and Charlotte? Do you think Diana is going to go away quietly?
Have a great weekend! And don't forget to vote :)