She shook her head, brushing off his words with a wave of her hand. "No, that's not me, Dick. I cherish my first time." Her voice was firm but playful, as if dismissing the very idea of casual flings.
Dick smirked. "Right. Like you're waiting for the perfect prince or something?"
Melissa laughed softly, shaking her head again. "Not a prince, but someone who's worth it. Someone who knows how to handle me."
There it was—the tease beneath the modesty, the line she liked to toe without ever fully crossing. Melissa enjoyed the game of playing innocent while letting the implications hang heavy in the air. She'd perfected that act over the years, leaving guys like Daniel desperate for more without ever giving them anything substantial. And she was really good at it. She had perfect control in teasing. It was a skill, really.
Checking his watch, Dick leaned back in his chair. "It's getting late," he said with a reluctant sigh. "Now that Dad's back, we should probably show up for dinner."
Melissa's smirk faded slightly, replaced by a brief flicker of something darker—resentment, maybe. She always hated these family dinners as much as he did. Their father rarely spoke unless it was to belittle someone, and Clara spent most of the time playing the perfect wife, pretending they were one big happy family. The whole thing was a charade, and Melissa knew it as well as he did.
"Yeah," she muttered, stirring the last of her cappuccino before pushing it aside. "Guess we can't avoid it."
They both stood, gathering their things. The café had emptied out, the quiet hum of the espresso machine the only sound left. As they walked toward the door, Melissa brushed against him, her voice low and teasing again. "Don't think you're off the hook. I'm going to find out who you've been playing with, little brother."
Dick gave her a sideways glance, amused. "Good luck with that."
As they neared the front door, Melissa sighed, her teasing demeanor slipping for just a second. "Think Sirius going to be in one of his moods?"
Dick chuckled darkly. "When isn't he?"
Melissa rolled her eyes. "True."
They entered the house, the familiar sterile smell of expensive furniture and too-clean air hitting them as soon as they stepped inside. The faint sound of voices drifted from the dining room—Clara's light laughter, Sirius's low murmur. They weren't late yet, but the performance was already in full swing.
As they approached the dining room, Melissa paused, glancing at him. "Ready?"
Dick shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Together, they stepped into the room, and all eyes turned toward them. Clara sat next to the head of the table, her perfectly manicured hand resting on Sirius's arm as she laughed at something he'd said. She noticed them first, her smile widening, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Ah, here they are," Clara said, her voice syrupy sweet. "We were just talking about you two."
Sirius didn't look up from his plate, refusing to acknowledge Dick's arrival as he took his seat at the table. Clara, however, gave him a smile that was all teeth, her gaze flicking toward Sirius with a subtle, mocking glint. Yesterday's little game with her was still fresh in her mind, and Dick could see that she was playing him as if she'd rattled him. She wanted him to believe she'd told Sirius everything, that trouble was coming.
Ignoring Clara's sly smile, Dick moved to his seat, dropping into it without a word. He didn't acknowledge her game, didn't even glance at Sirius. Marc, the cook, and Stacey, one of the maids, quietly filled the table with dishes, moving like shadows around the room.
"How was your day?" Clara's voice broke the silence, she directed the question at Melissa.
Melissa looked up from her plate, keeping her expression warm. "Fine," she replied shortly, taking a sip from her glass. "Dick and I grabbed coffee before dinner. Nothing exciting."
Clara's smile brightened. "Coffee? Together?" she repeated, feigning surprise. "How sweet. You two must be closer than I thought."
"It was casual," Melissa said with a shrug. "Just catching up."
"Well, it's nice to see you two bonding," Clara continued, cutting delicately into her steak. "Family time is so important, after all."
Dick smirked to himself, keeping his gaze down. She was pushing, trying to get a rise out of him. Maybe she thought yesterday's little flirtation had given her some sort of leverage. It hadn't.
The dinner carried on in silence after that, the sound of cutlery clinking against plates the only thing filling the room. Finally, as the meal was winding down, she spoke again, her voice light but with an undercurrent of something sharper. "Oh, by the way, Dick," she said, casually wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Samantha's been asking about you."
Dick almost frowned. Almost, then caught the look on Clara's face. No, she wasn't. By now, Samantha had turned into an obedient whore. She knew her limits and would never come to his house without his call. That meant Clara had seen him entering Rebecca's house and was testing him.
He smiled. "Is she back?"
Clara's smile wavered, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. Her mind was connecting dots. If Dick wasn't entering Rebecca's house for Samantha, it could only mean one thing. He was there for Rebecca. 'Is he bonding with his mommy's friend?' she wondered, her eyes narrowing as she nodded to him.
"Yeah, she returned a few weeks ago. Haven't you seen her?" she asked, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.
Dick shook his head, playing along. "Went to see Mrs. Avery the other day, but didn't see anyone else."
Melissa raised her eyebrows slightly at the exchange but didn't comment. Sirius was still ignoring the conversation, engrossed in his plate like nothing else mattered. Emily, as usual, acted like none of them exist, her indifference so natural it was almost impressive. But Jessica—now that was interesting. She hadn't said a word to him since the last time they'd talked, and tonight, she was deliberately looking everywhere but at him. While Emily's indifference was natural, as if he didn't exist at all, Jessica's was deliberate, like a torch in the darkness, so obvious.
Clara noticed too. She glanced at Jessica, then at Dick, her eyes narrowing in curiosity. She didn't say anything but leaned back in her chair, sipping her wine slowly.
"Are you still planning to go to the dance, Jess?" Melissa asked casually, stirring the pot just enough to get a reaction.
Jessica's fork clattered against her plate, her fingers tightening around the handle. She took a breath, forcing a smile. "Of course," she said, her voice light but strained. "I'll be going with the girls."
Dick hid his smirk behind his drink. He knew that wasn't the plan. Ryan had been her date, and without him, Jessica's perfect image was unraveling. Now she had to make other arrangements, and her frustration was evident in the way she avoided looking at him.
"Going alone this time?" Melissa pressed, her tone innocent but with that familiar edge. "What about Ryan?"
Jessica's jaw clenched, her knuckles turning white. She shot Melissa a look, sharp enough to cut. "I dumped him two weeks ago."
Melissa exaggerated shock, her eyebrows shooting up. "What, really? How come I never heard? What did he do?"
Jessica feigned sadness, her lips curving into a false pout. "He was cheating on me with that skunk Giselle."
Melissa's eyes widened, her fake concern dialed up to eleven. "No! Giselle? Are you serious?" Her voice dripped with theatrical outrage, the kind only Melissa could pull off convincingly.
Dick and Melissa exchanged a quick glance. They knew Jessica was playing her usual game, making sure she walked out of this situation with her head held high. They'd discussed it earlier at the café. Jessica would never let something like this break her—she always had a backup plan, someone waiting in the wings to maintain her status. It wouldn't surprise him if she'd arranged the whole thing, letting Ryan fuck Giselle just so she could gather the right "evidence" when it suited her. Or caught him cheating, but acted oblivious just for the dance and now it came handy. Either way, she always had enough leverage in situations like these.
Clara, always eager to insert herself into any drama, leaned in with wide eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry! You deserve so much better than that... scum."
Jessica milked the sympathy with a practiced sigh, her fingers toying with the edge of her napkin. "Yeah, well, I'm moving on. Someone like Ryan? He's not worth my time."
Dick could feel the shift in Jessica's tone—calculated, poised. She was setting the stage, rewriting the narrative to make herself the victim-turned-hero, someone who rose above the humiliation.
He couldn't help but admire her. Jessica would walk out of this situation like a champ, no doubt. She'd flip the whole cheating thing to her advantage, probably turn it into some feminist rallying cry. 'She's playing the long game,' he thought, watching her with a kind of detached curiosity. Jessica knew how to manipulate people—always had. Her victim-turned-hero arc was unfolding right in front of him, and he was almost impressed by her finesse.
'She wanted me to go with her to the dance,' he mused, thinking back to their last encounter. 'But when I shot her down, she had to adjust her strategy.' Now, instead of walking in with Ryan on her arm, she'd walk in as the girl who'd been wronged but rose above it. Smart.
Jessica glanced at him briefly, her eyes narrowing just enough to show that she hadn't forgotten. She wasn't going to back down. Her pride wouldn't let her crumble, not publicly, but he knew she'd be back. Clara was still playing her part, offering sympathetic smiles and comforting words to Jessica. Melissa was watching the whole thing unfold with thinly veiled amusement, her fingers tapping rhythmically on her wine glass. She loved drama—especially when she wasn't the one caught in the middle of it. Emily... Well, she was Emily.
Dinner dragged on with more empty chatter, the same tired conversations they always had. Sirius remained silent, as if the family's little theatrics didn't even register to him. His father's presence was more a formality than anything else—there to remind them of his authority, but never engaging with the mess they lived in.
As the dinner wound down, Dick made his escape, slipping out of the dining room without a word. He didn't need to be around for the rest of their charade.
As Dick headed upstairs, the murmur of voices caught his attention. The faint argument in the hallway echoed. He paused, his hand on the banister, listening closely.
"I can't do it anymore," Stacey's voice came, hushed but sharp. "I'm done lying under that disgusting pig."
Jonas's reply was softer, almost pleading. "You don't have a choice, baby. If you leave, what happens to us? To me?"
Dick leaned against the wall, out of sight, eavesdropping with a smirk. The two of them were just as miserable as everyone else in the house. Stacey, the maid Sirius had been fucking for years, and Jonas, the loyal butler who acted as if it was only natural. It was all pathetic, really.
"I don't care," Stacey hissed. "I'm sick of it. I'm sick of him."
There was a long pause, and Dick could imagine Jonas wringing his hands, trying to think of something to placate her. But the silence stretched, and Dick grew bored. He pushed away from the wall, deciding he'd heard enough.
He initially thought Stacey also wanted it, but now, hearing her words, it became clear she was trapped. To be honest, she was way too beautiful for Jonas. Dick had always suspected something deeper at play, but he hadn't cared enough to dig into their lives.
Until now, Dick had no idea why Stacey even stayed, beyond the obvious—that Jonas was her lifeline in this place. But hearing her now, complaining about Sirius in a way he hadn't expected, Dick realized just how trapped she felt. She hated Sirius, hated everything about what she had to do.