Chapter 4: Impress Them

OLLIE

“How many rooms does this house have? Do they have enough space for their egos? Wait, do you think they have a safe room or something?” I asked Sarah, trying my best not to fall flat on my face in these heels she made me wear.

“Language, Ollie,” she said, giving me a side-eye.

“And I’m not sure how many rooms there are—probably more than ten? Alexander told me some of them are closed.”

~Right, mid-size billionaire small.~ “What are we looking for?”

“One of the lounge bars,” she explained. “It’s somewhere on this floor. We’re meeting the boys for some drinks before dinner, you know, for us to bond.”

Just what I needed, ~siblings bonding~.

“I’m sure of the kind of bonding Darth Vader is into, and let me tell you, it’s not what you have in mind.” I snorted.

“Do I need to worry about your innuendos at the dinner table?” she asked worriedly. “Have more respect for Alexander’s brother and for this family.”

If I could roll my eyes and spin them, that would’ve been the case here.

Yes, yes, yes. Robert. Darius. Rothschild. I knew who he was now.

~Robert~ was the name the media knew him by, but it seemed his inner circle called him Darius, so that’s why I didn’t put that together.

Well, that, and the fact that our ~rendezvous~ spiraled to hell once I lost my shit with that call from fucking Roger.

Google did a good job displaying the whole picture of Darius, or at least the public persona of this ruthless businessman supposed to take over the Rothschild empire.

Philanthropic, enigmatic, charming, billionaire, single, six-foot-two.

The internet was wrong. He was not charming.

He was insufferable.

I could still feel the bump on my head after he ~accidentally~ honked the car’s horn.

“Whatever. DD is still a douchebag, last time I checked.”

“DD as in Dear Darius, right?”

~Dick Darius, more like it.~

“My ears will bleed if you continue talking about him.”

“Ollie, I need this to work out. If I’m honest…” She paused, walking and taking a big sigh. “I need your help.”

Was something wrong? Since when was something able to bother Sarah’s happy bubble?

“How could I possibly help you, Sarah?” ~

“To impress them,” she said, quick and sweet.

Was she being real? I laughed, laughed so hard and loud she shushed me with wide, alarming eyes.

“I am so serious about this, Ollie. I could start to cry right now.”

Shit, she was not lying.

“Oh, no.” ~Don’t cry.~

Should I touch her hand? Maybe ask her what was happening? What was Sarah hiding?

It had been a while since we’d had alone time, and I didn’t know how to begin this…bonding.

“Here,” she said, stopping. “This is the door.”

We entered a dimly lit studio with a two-story wall filled with books, a cute little bar, and a nice antique jukebox in a corner with brown leather seats near a low, long coffee table.

Yeah, this was a cool place to have a drink.

“Where are~ the boys~?” I imitated her voice and raised my eyebrows.

I kinda hated the way she dearly referred to them.

“They’ll be here soon.” She walked to the bar, opening one of those non-calorie flavored sodas only people in the fitness industry drink.

She sighed and looked out the window.

“His parents are staying in the main house, where we’ll have dinner tonight. It will be the first time I meet them, and… I’m terrified of meeting his mother. She is kind of… uptight.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sure she’ll smell like cookies.” I teased.

“Stop, I’m serious. They might not like me, but they will love you, Ollie. You are the smartest person I know.” She said, passing me one of her bubbly drinks I quickly declined.

It was strange seeing Sarah intimidated.

Her usual spark of happiness was dimmed, giving so much weight to what Alexander’s family would think of her, and it bothered me.

I walked to the bar, looking for something strong.

If she only knew I was already on the naughty list with my reckless behavior of the day.

The bump on my head started throbbing like a living thing and I could swear I could hear it chanting ~Shame! Shame! Shame!~

I’d decided to keep the details of the ride to myself.

Not that I cared what Darius thought of me; it was a little nudity, for God’s sake! Nothing too shocking for the twenty-first century.

~Get over yourself, Ollie. He is probably thinking about a million things besides you.~

“Will you do that for me?” The spark in her eyes was coming back.

“Do what?”

“Make a good impression.” She answered in a beat.

Now I had to impress that douchebag and his uptight family? This was just hilarious.

~Where is the tequila in this bar?~

“Right, because I am the epitome of perfection, Sarah.” I snorted.

How was she expecting me to help? I wasn’t going to impress anyone.

I didn’t even have a real job to brag about, and this was the fucking ~Rothschild~ family.

What could I possibly say to impress them?

Nothing.

She watched me with pleading eyes.

Was Sarah actually sad?

I poked her ribs and teased her, “Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”

~On the next episode of How to step it up for my sister’s sanity…~ I was going to do this for her.

I was going to play along. Only because I cared about her happiness.

It was a matter of public record that Alexander wasn’t exactly the jewel of the family, so that would help us stay away from the spotlight.

“Is it too late if I wanna go up and change?” I changed the subject.

“You funny girl,” she laughed. “Don’t you feel pretty?”

“You mean if I feel comfortable in this costume?” I asked, watching how my toes wiggled in these sandals.

I had to admit I still looked classy with the low-cut back even when wearing a mini skirt, yet this was way too girly for me.

“What is wrong with a pair of jeans and a nice sweater?” I pushed, silently praying.

“Unacceptable, Ollie. Remember, we are going to meet the whole family tonight. Besides, you look hot! Don’t you want to give a very good first impression?”

I rolled my eyes.

~If you only knew the first impression I gave DD earlier today.~

“Are you planning on selling me like food in a buffet, Sarah? Isn’t this too much skin for this weather?” I asked, pushing my leg up in the air.

“Ollie, no one can resist a beautiful woman.” She laughed.

“Oh, sorry.” I gagged, talking about beauty as a high form of currency.

Becoming a piece of meat to be judged on my looks was not my jam.

“Remind me what makes me beautiful? Is it only my looks?” I asked sarcastically.

“All this time, I thought you were going to butter them up with my brains.”

“That too.”

~Look at you, pretending to be someone you are not.~

Right, because my sister thought I was smart?

I twirled the ends of my ponytail with my fingers as I got comfortable on the leather armchair.

She had no idea about the shit show I had been orchestrating for a while.

My impostor syndrome kicked in as I watched beautiful Sarah, all seated like a princess would.

Her posture, her face, her hands on her lap.

~

Darius and Alexander arrived looking casual and relaxed.

One blond and one brunet, both tall and muscular, with some similar features here and there, yet so different.

Of course they were brothers—how didn’t I see that one coming?

Alexander had the features of an angel, while Darius was a demon sent from hell to torment me.

He was a bad, bad person!

Being hot was part of the booby trap.

I was staying away from his hot ass, but fuck, without the coat his physique was more evident than ever.

This man took good care of his body, and my eyes scanned all over his chest and arms like I was airport security.

Yeah, I was imagining what lay beyond that black t-shirt and wool-blend trousers.

Alexander’s style was more preppy looking.

His hair was combed back, and he was doing a favor to that cashmere polo sweater because he looked great in those dark fitted jeans.

Like, damn, how girls wanted to fit in jeans that way.

Fuck, I wanted to be in jeans too.

~Damn it.~ Fucking Sarah and her dress-up ideas.

She had the full love stare while I was still watching Alexander’s sweater and Darius’s t-shirt!

We looked ready for a party.

“Wow, you ladies look ravishing,” Alexander said as he approached us, not taking his eyes off Sarah.

Then he wrapped her in his arms, giving her an intense, passionate kiss that wasn’t appropriate for an audience.

I was left awkwardly with Darius as my only company, silently gazing at me.

He sat in front of me, his chin resting on one hand, and a single finger on the other hand tapping on the armrest.

The picture of an unbothered devil.

Was he not going to talk to me?

Of course, his eyes wandered slowly over my body, paying close attention to my heels, with a raised eyebrow.

An insulting acknowledgment.

His finger never stopped tapping on the chair.

What was up with this dude and the up-and-down looks?

Feeling so superior and shit.

“Eyes up,” I challenged him again, my promise to Sarah flying out the window.

~Why can’t you shut your mouth, Olivia?~

“Finally, some clean shoes,” he smirked wickedly at me, making my spine tingle.

~Asshole.~

“Huh, who knew you were into shoe fetish?” I said playfully while crossing my legs the other way, just because I knew he was still watching my legs in this mini skirt.

“You like them?”

Why was I teasing him?

~Olivia, stop playing with fire. Darius Rothschild looks like a guy that could bite.~

He looked up.

This time I held his gaze and oh, fuck, that electricity we had in the car returned.

My face was starting to get warm.

“I like many things,” he answered, taking his time.

“Tell me something, Olivia Summer.”

I frowned.

There was something about the way he said my name I didn’t like at all.

I glanced back at Sarah, wishing she could come back.

They were having their little moment as Alexander poured himself a drink.

“About what?”~

“You,” he said, leaning back.

“And your sister, of course.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How close are you?” he asked, bringing his index finger to his lips and then glancing back and forth between Sarah and me.

Oh, no, I didn’t like this at all.

“Close,” I lied.

“So, she listens to you?” he continued.

Why was this dude asking stuff like this?

I could hear Sarah giggling over what to put on the jukebox, and then the music started.

She was swinging her hips to the rhythm of the song.

“She has two functional ears,” I replied with a smile.

“Yes, just like you,” he replied.

~Yes, just like you.~ I repeated his words in a mocking tone in my mind.

Who did this motherfucker think he was?

So uptight and entitled.

Why was he still watching me that way?

Watching my face and my legs.

I was starting to get nervous, so nervous I stood up and headed directly to the bar, feeling his eyes glued to my back and most definitely my ass, thanks to the low-cut black fabric that hugged my hips and legs.

I decided to sway my hips a bit.

Why not tease him with what he could never have?

~Stop that, Ollie! You are here to support Sarah, not to get your ass spanked. You promised Thomas to keep it in your pants—well, in your dress. Focus.~

I poured a drink and swallowed it all before pouring another.

God, how I’d needed this.

It was better to drink than blush in front of this fucking snob.

Finally, Sarah and Alexander stopped sucking each other’s faces and returned to being civilized people.

“A woman who drinks hard liquor,” Alexander chuckled.

“I’m on a whiskey diet,” I replied with a smile.

“Want some more?”

“Sure.” Alexander held out his glass.

“You, sis?” I glanced at her.

Her red lipstick was long gone and needed an immediate retouch.

“Not feeling in the mood tonight,” she muttered.

Before anyone could say anything else, someone from the staff came to tell us that dinner was being served and we should be on our way to the main house.

Darius stood.

“We better get going. We shouldn’t keep Mother waiting.”

Sarah fixed her makeup quickly, and we followed them outside and to the main house through a connected corridor.

We were warmly greeted by the staff as we entered the manor.

This house felt different, homier.

I could see a wall full of frames—pictures of family trips, sailing, mostly Alexander and Darius when they were babies and their childhood in this house.

A grand piano was decorated with candles and flowers.

The ambiance was cozy and inviting, like a normal home.

This house was extraordinary.

Unique.

Imposing yet inviting.

Darius guided us through the open-concept room that led to a huge double-sided fireplace and the dining room beyond.

A beautiful place to dine.

Intimate and beautiful, impressively framed by tall windows that revealed the white sanded beach beyond.

Four heads turned directly to Sarah, throwing daggers with their cold stares.

Fucking murderous.

I could already see us in a true crime documentary.

These were the family members we were about to dine with.

The Rothschilds.

One of them was so tall that I had to crane my neck back to study his face.

Wow, these people were giants.

I choked on my nervous laughter, wondering if Sarah felt the same way.

I glanced at her, careful not to show any signs of how out of place I felt.

“I need to use the restroom,” I whispered to Sarah.

“Now?” she whispered back.

“You are leaving me alone, now?” she pleaded.

“I promise I’ll be back,” I said.

I just needed a minute to pull myself together.

“The second door, to your left,” she gave me the instructions, and I fled from the scene.

Shit, I was quick because that moment was intense, and I was glad my bladder gave me an escape route.

~But Sarah needs me…~

Yes, I had to go back, but first things first.

My feet hurt so badly, and I needed a break.

I crossed the hallway, escaping the family reunion, and entered the restroom.

Phew, finally!

I was counting the seconds to stretch my feet as I reached down to untie one of the straps from my sandal.

~Fucking heels!~ Not only were they uncomfortable, but they also needed constant attention.

Just like Sarah.

This dinner was going to be unpleasant, and this family had all the red flags of being horrible.

I was bent down with my ponytail dangling, taking the second heel off when I heard the sound of footsteps against the marble floor.

Someone had entered the restroom; I assumed Sarah.

“Sarah, is that you? This family—” I stopped abruptly when I saw a pair of black shoes.

These were not Sarah’s girly sandals.

Those were a man’s shoes.

~Big ones.~