My sensual criminals
Brief suspense

My blood runs cold when I realize what he's saying. My jaw drops as I watch him wolf down his dinner like it's nothing. It's as if he's just announced the cancellation of a drink order and not the disappearance of my entire future. No one says anything. My mother hasn't touched her food and, for once, neither have I.

Inside my room, I lean against the cold wood of the door and feel a lump in my throat as tears well up in my eyes. But I swallow it all down and pick up the phone to call Isabela, my best friend. "I really hate them, Isa," I say into the receiver as soon as she answers.

"What happened, are you okay?" she says worriedly on the other end of the line. Concerned, but not surprised. Isabela knows what I'm talking about because she's met my parents several times.

"No, I'm not," I say, choking back tears. "My father is so horrible; I can't believe it. And my mother! So cold and hard and weak, and she does nothing when she's bullied. How is it possible," I say, my voice shaking, "that the two people who created me are the two people in the world I'm nothing like? In personality or looks? I hate them."

"Don't worry, Aria, " isa says sympathetically. "Senior year is almost over, and then we'll be off to college, and you'll be free of them. You'll just have to see them on vacation." This is what finally pushes me over the edge, and I'm not able to hold back the tears any longer.

"Aria, what's wrong, what happened?" my friend asks, this time really worried. I complain about my parents a lot, and Isa is always supportive. She's heard it all before, but this time it's different because I hardly ever cry.

"Apparently," I tell her, my voice cracking with tears, "the A I got this week in math keeps me from going to college. Apparently, my degree will be a waste of money. Apparently, it's never going to do me any good," I stammer, tears rolling down my face and lips.

"What are you talking about?" exclaims Isa.

"I don't think I'm going to go anymore, Isa," I whisper through tears. It's whisper or moan. "My dad says he thinks it would be throwing money away."

"He's just bluffing! He's had a bad day or something, and he's taking it out on you like he normally does," Isa says immediately, trying to comfort me.

"I hope you're right, but I have a feeling Harrison is serious this time. You know he doesn't joke about money, and college is a lot of money. Hundreds of thousands of dollars, Isa, for a degree," I snort.

"Yeah, but your parents are one of the few who have that kind of money. Everyone else has to scrape and save, but your parents are rolling in it."

His comments make me sad.

"If there's one thing Roger hates more than me, Isa, it's bad investments. He obviously thinks there's absolutely nothing to gain by sending me to college. He's not going to make any more money. The interest isn't going to accrue. And the return on investment is bad," I conclude, tears streaming down my face.

"Listen," Isabela says in her calmest, most soothing voice. "Why don't you get a good night's sleep and see how things are in the morning? Go see your father at the breakfast table tomorrow morning. You've always said that's when he's in the best mood.

I think about this approach. It might work, even if it makes me feel sad again. "Yeah, I guess," I say listlessly.

Isa is adamant.

"Go to bed and try tomorrow morning. I'll see you at school and then you can thank me," she says in a persuasive voice.

What else can I do but agree?

"Yes, I will, Isa. Thanks for everything," I say quietly, trying not to let it show. But my friend knows better.

"Always, sweetheart. Now cheer up and get some sleep because you'll need it for tomorrow morning," she admonishes me before hanging up. I sigh, hang up the phone and glance around my room.

The attic is protected like a fortress, and most days I feel like a princess in an ivory tower.

Sighing, I walk across the vast space of my room to the huge window and look out at Central Park, just below. The city lights twinkle below me, and it's a view I never tire of. This penthouse is an amazing place, and yet it is not home. Sometimes I pretend this penthouse is a castle where I live alone, high on a hill overlooking a vast country. From my window, I can look out over the land so far that I will be able to see anyone who comes near. Like a prince, who has come to take me away from the dragons within these walls.

In fact, fantasies of my fiery prince excite me. It's definitely the steamy romances that I like to read on my Kindle; I have whole series of books, and I devour them at night when everyone has gone to bed. It's my dirty little secret, which I didn't share with Isa, until she found out on her own.

Confident that my parents and staff have gone to bed, I leave my place of trust by the gazebo and undress. I can't wait to crawl into bed and read a few more chapters of my latest historical romance. I choose a white silk nightgown with a lace bodice; not that anyone but me is going to see it, but I like to feel sexy when I read my books.

I rub my nipples as I continue reading, feeling my pussy clench with lust for these alpha males. I slip my fingers into my panties and dip them between my creamy lips, but I don't know how to satisfy the burning desire I feel.

My fingers are not enough and, with an empty moan, I roll over and turn off the light, wrapping myself in loneliness and frustration. It's hard to fall asleep given my arousal, but after what seems like hours, I fall into dreamland.

But then it dawns on me: I've closed the curtains before going to bed, as I always do. Or have I? Right now, they're wide open, but tossed carelessly to one side, and not tied with the practiced side bow I usually do. Then, there's a faint hissing sound in the corner and I sit up in bed. There's someone in my room.

"G-George?" I whisper, feeling silly. I don't understand why the butler is in my room in the middle of the night, but it's the first thing that comes to mind. There is no answer.