Free Sordid by Nikki Sloane

and beautiful paintings decorated the long hall of closed doors and stairs to the right. My footfalls were quiet on the plush carpet as we wound down the curved staircase.
    The entryway to the house was impressive. Daylight from oversized windows glanced off of the tiered crystal chandelier, positioned over a gorgeous wooden inlay in the hardwood floor. Obviously the car dealership business was going well for the Markovic family.
    Luka either ignored my gawking, or didn’t notice. We traipsed past the dining room that had enough seating for twelve, and turned into a gourmet kitchen which was state-of-the-art. There was a table tucked to one side, which held two place settings and a full breakfast waiting to be served. Fresh fruit, pastries, bacon, and eggs. How had he prepared all this?
    I stood dumbfounded as he slipped into one of the chairs and set about pouring his coffee. He added cream and sugar, and when he realized I hadn’t moved, his gaze turned up to mine. “You going to join me?”
    There was an edge to his words, as if trying to walk a fine line between polite and commanding. I couldn’t help but feel like he was restraining his true self, the version I’d seen last night. I took the chair across from him and watched him pour my cup. It was all so . . . adult-like.
    “If you want something else, let me know. My chef keeps the kitchen stocked, so she can make almost anything.”
    My chef. Sweet Jesus. I stared down at my steaming cup, not wanting to say anything because I worried I’d sound like the poor, naïve girl I was. I added sugar and cream, stirring until the coffee turned a milk chocolate color.
    “Tell me about your family,” Luka said as I was mid-sip.
    I swallowed and it seared down my throat. “My family?”
    “Yes. I want to know everything about you. We’ll start with your family.” This he said in the tone I was more familiar with. An order, not a request.
    I paused, my hand lingering on the handle to my mug as I considered his demand. He wanted to know everything about me? Why? A weird tickle crept up the back of my neck. “There’s not much to say. They’re pretty normal.”
    “Are your parents still together? Siblings?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “And yes. I’ve got a younger brother.”
    “Are you close?”
    “In age, or relationship?”
    “Both.” Luka took a sip of his coffee, but his gaze was fixed on mine.
    “No, not really. Jonathan is four years younger.” My tone was clipped. We were night and day different.
    Luka’s focus sharpened. “Tell me about him.”
    My forehead wrinkled with skepticism. “You want to know about my brother?”
    “You’re an easy read, Addison. What’s the deal with your brother?”
    I scowled, not enjoying how good Luka was at cutting straight through my subtext. I was too hungover and off balance to muster much of a fight. “Jonathan’s senior class elected him homecoming king last week.”
    “And?”
    How was I going to explain it? My gaze wandered away to glance out the window. Beyond the large, pristinely maintained back yard, the house backed up to a golf course. Of course it did. I squinted against the sunlight, which made my headache throb.
    “Tell me why that bothers you,” Luka said. This time his tone was more forceful.
    I sighed and swung my focus back to the man who kept me on edge. “Because things come easy for him. He doesn’t struggle to make friends. He always knows the right thing to say and the right thing to do.” I sounded jealous, because I was. “Everyone loves Jonathan.”
    “You struggle to make friends?” He asked it lightly, and I had said it, but it stung, regardless. I didn’t want anyone pointing out what I didn’t excel at.
    So I didn’t answer. Instead I grabbed a bagel from the tray of pastries and busied myself slathering it in cream cheese. No one was as driven or focused as I was, or had priorities as warped as mine. Therefore, I struggled terribly to make friends.
    “Vasilije is the