Chapter 2 2. SOUR DESIRE

ANASTASIA'S POV

I swallowed hard and forced my lips into a smile. "Hey." My voice came out softer than I expected as I slid into the seat across from him.

His eyes glimmered. Then, casually, he leaned back in his chair. "So tell me," he said, his tone sounded playful yet serious, "do you have a boyfriend yet?"

"What?" I nearly choked, heat crawling up my throat.

Isaac's mouth curved into the faintest smirk. "I bet you're not a virgin anymore."

For a heartbeat, I swore I saw his gaze darken as it drifted down lingering on my breasts, then dipping lower before snapping back to meet mine.

My breath caught, heat flooding my face.

My heart slammed against my ribs. What the fuck? Was I dreaming? Was this another one of my sick fantasies bleeding into reality?

"Well," he continued casually, "because everyone keeps talking about how much of a good girl you are. I highly doubt that."

I forced a smile, even as unease twisted through me. "What's there to doubt?"

He leaned back, studying me like he was peeling me apart layer by layer. "That little facade you wear. The good girl kind. A bookworm. The type who spends her nights in her room with a blanket, reading, knitting, home early from work, asleep before midnight. Is that really all there is to you?"

I froze as I felt my throat tightening. A bookworm? Knitting? What was wrong with that? Still, the way he said it, like the words made me feel small.

"Tell me, Snow," he pressed, voice dipping lower. "What kind of books do you read?"

My stomach dropped and panic fluttered in my chest. If he knew, if he even suspected. The facade I'd built so carefully for my parents would crumble to dust.

He couldn't know that behind closed doors, I consumed more dark romance and filth than any good girl should.

The sound of the front door swinging open snapped the moment in half. I blinked, tearing my gaze away just in time to see my dad stride in. Relief flooded me so fast my knees almost buckled.

"There's my big boy!" Dad's voice boomed with warmth as he spotted Isaac.

I ducked my head, hiding the flush burning across my face as Isaac rose to greet him.

"I heard you guys are moving here next week," Dad said, clapping his shoulder. "That's great news. At least Anastasia can finally have an elder brother around."

My heart stuttered. "You're moving?" I blurted, my voice sharper than intended. Both of them turned to me. "How come nobody told me?"

"It's just me," Isaac replied smoothly. "Got a work arrangement."

The words hit like a stone to the gut. He was going to be here. Close?

"Okay, dinner's ready!" Mom's voice chimed from the kitchen.

Dad gave Isaac another pat. "You're doing good. It'll be nice to have you around." Then he walked away, leaving us alone.

Silence stretched for a beat before Isaac crossed the space between us. My pulse skittered.

"My friends and I have a party tomorrow night," he said. "We're going. Wear something nice. Something clubby. I bet you have one of those, Snowy."

My mouth parted in disbelief. "What? I didn't say I was going with you."

But he didn't wait for me. Without another word, Isaac turned and strolled toward the dining room, leaving me rooted to the spot flushed, rattled, and with his command still thrumming in my ears like a drumbeat I couldn't silence. There was no way in hell I was following him to some club.

This was so shitty. My parents would never let me go clubbing, yet suddenly it was fine because it was with Isaac? The hypocrisy stung.

"Ana! Aren't you done?" Mom's voice rang out, and before I could answer, she appeared at my door.

I stiffened as her eyes swept over me from head to toe. She gasped softly, a hand lifting to her lips.

"Is she done?" Aunt Jane's voice floated in as the door nudged wider.

I froze. But they froze harder.

For a moment, the three of us just stared at one another, silence thick enough to choke on. My palms grew damp as I darted my gaze between them, searching for a clue. Why weren't they saying anything?

Then Aunt Jane broke first. Her smile was wistful, her tone touched with something almost nostalgic. "She looks just like you in high school."

Mom's lips curved, her eyes soft with pride. "More like you."

I steadied my breath as I made my way down the stairs, every step deliberate. The white dress clung to me like a whisper, sleeveless, with the neckline dipping just enough to frame my bust, the hem daringly high, hovering just over the curve of my back. Paired with my heeled boots, I felt taller, bolder, though my skin burned beneath the weight of my own nerves.

Halfway down, the kitchen door swung open. Dad stepped out with a dish towel in hand, humming to himself until his gaze landed on me.

He froze. Then his face flushed red. "Anastasia," he gasped, his voice sharp with shock. "Change. Right now. That dress is far too short!"

My stomach dropped, guilt rising hot in my throat, but before I could even respond, a voice cut through the tension.

"She looks pretty."

Isaac stood at the base of the stairs, arms folded loosely, that faint smile tugging at his lips as if he'd been waiting just for this moment. His green eyes flicked up, catching mine, and the way he looked at me made my knees wobble.

"Uncle," Isaac continued smoothly, his tone confident, almost protective. "She's gonna be with me all night. I assure you, she's fine."

The words curled in the air, heavy with double meaning only I seemed to hear.

Dad hesitated, jaw tight, but Isaac's calm certainty seemed to disarm him.

Before the silence could stretch, Aunt Jane's heels clicked against the floor as she appeared behind him. She glanced at me once, then at Isaac. "Isaac, drive safe!" she called with casual cheer, as if the matter were already settled.

My heart raced as Isaac motioned toward the door, that smile never leaving his face. And all I could think was what the hell had I just agreed to by walking down in this dress?