"Eleanor, I've missed you..." Anirudh didn't even register the stranger's shock—he didn't spare him a glance. All he cared about was wrapping his arms around this stunning woman and pulling her close. Her curves pressed against his chest, soft and warm, stirring embers the train attendant had doused. He shoved the feeling down hard. This was his childhood best friend—his almost-sister. No blood tied them, sure, but next to Grandpa, she was his world. How could he let his mind go there?
Burying those rogue thoughts, he locked eyes with her, tears threatening to spill.
He'd grown up, year by year, but Eleanor? She was a timeless beauty—untouched by age, radiant as ever. If anything, she'd only gotten more gorgeous. Time hadn't dared leave a mark.
"Hey, I missed you too, kid..." His quiet confession hit her, and Eleanor's eyes shimmered with tears. This woman—a queen who roared through Chicago in a Lamborghini Reventón, who ruled the Fenty empire with an iron grip, the city's richest soul—melted at "Eleanor, I missed you."
If word got out, the tabloids would lose their minds.
The poor sap nearby just stared, jaw on the floor. This knockout, barely twenty-something by the looks of her, was this punk's sis? No way. Grandpa's secret lovechild, maybe?
"Come on, Anirudh, let's get you home..." Eleanor caught herself—public meltdowns weren't her style. She blinked back the tears, grabbed his hand, and tugged him toward her sleek ride.
The engine snarled to life, and they peeled out, leaving the gawking bystander in their dust.
"How's the old man holding up?" she asked, flicking her eyes to Anirudh between steering, a grin tugging at her lips.
"He's too stubborn to croak..." Anirudh shot back, shaking off the reunion high with a smirk.
Grandpa to the world, "old geezer" to him. Didn't mean he loved him any less—same went for the knockout sis behind the wheel.
"Ha! If he's not keeling over, he's golden. Stop stressing. You're sticking around Chicago this time. I pulled some strings with the dean at Chicago Business School—Business Administration's your gig now. Chill a few days, then hit the books..." Eleanor's laugh was light and teasing.
"Business Admin? Why that?" He'd come to study, sure, but hadn't picked a path. If she set it up, he'd roll with it—he just didn't get the angle.
"'Cause it's crawling with hotties..."
"..." Anirudh blinked, dumbfounded. What kind of sis was this? Most folks obsessed over prestige or job prospects—she went with "cute girls"? Was she pimping him out?
Not that he'd complain...
"What's the matter, kid? Not into it? You used to brag about snagging eight wives when you grew up. Business Admin at Chicago's a goldmine for that—I'm just laying the groundwork..." She flashed a sly grin at his flushed face. The little punk could still blush!
"..." Words failed him. What sis played matchmaker this shamelessly?
But then his eyes slid to her legs—those stockings hugging every curve—up to her killer chest and that flawless face. Yeah, a wife like her? Sign him up.
...
The train station hugged Chicago's north end; Eleanor's pad sat pretty in the southside's ritzy district. The Lamborghini ate up the highway, their back-and-forth banter making the miles vanish. They pulled up before he knew it.
He barely glimpsed the villa before she hauled him inside.
"Let's check out your room..." Eleanor dragged him upstairs, buzzing with energy. The three-story gem had a sprawling living room and kitchen downstairs, plus a nook for help. Second floor boasted three bedrooms; third had a study and a cozy rooftop garden.
Up they went. An empty room yawned by the stairs, then a chill lounge. Past that, two rooms faced off. Hers was wide open—plush bed screaming luxury, the air laced with a soft scent.
"This is mine... Now yours—tell me if I nailed it!" She waved at her space, then swung his door wide.
Anirudh stepped in, jaw dropping. The place was massive—60 square meters easy. A monstrous round bed sprawled in the middle, fit for a small army. A chunky wardrobe loomed left; a glass door right spilled onto a balcony blooming with greenery.
Carpet cushioned his feet, and a killer bathroom rocked a jacuzzi tub. Frosted glass teased shadowy outlines for anyone showering.
His throat tightened, eyes stinging. This was it—the bedroom he'd dreamed up as a kid.
He'd been five, her twelve, crammed in a sweaty rural shack. Summer turned it into an oven, and he'd sworn he'd build a big house someday—a huge room, a giant round bed...
Kid stuff he'd let slip. She hadn't. How could he not choke up?
"So, you digging it?" Eleanor grinned, missing the waterworks.
"Eleanor..." He whirled around, crushing her in a hug. Her softness hit him like a wave, warmth flooding his chest.
She froze, then panicked at his vibe. "Whoa, what's up, sweetie?"
"Eleanor, thank you... For remembering..." He fought the tears, voice thick.
She softened, exhaling. "Oh, you had me worried! Your dreams are mine, kid—I'd never forget. Now quit blubbering, tough guy. Shower up. I'll change, and we'll hit the town for some grub..." She ruffled his hair, then sauntered to her room, shedding her blazer mid-stride. It hit the bed as she rolled in.
A thin white blouse clung to her, black bra peeking through sans jacket. She turned, flashing half her lingerie.
Oblivious, she popped the buttons and ditched the shirt right there, lace bra on full display. The design was fire, but what it held? Pure dynamite.
Her skin glowed, ageless, and those curves—E-cup minimum—put teens to shame. Side profile screaming perfection, he knew his hands wouldn't stand a chance.
Gulp. His throat bobbed.
She didn't notice, sliding off her skirt next. Stockings hugged killer legs, semi-sheer panties teasing the rest. Breasts popping, stomach tight, thighs sculpted, hips begging for attention—she was a walking fantasy. Even Anirudh's cool was cracking.
"Hey, you zoning out? Shower! Or what, you need me to scrub you down?" She caught him gawking and spun around.
Boom—full frontal. Her chest strained the lace, spilling pale skin into a cleavage that could snap a pencil. Not a valley—a freaking fault line.
Those panties? Sheer enough for his sharp eyes to catch a shadow of hair...
He was two seconds from going feral.
Then she hit him with, "Don't tell me you want me to bathe you?" His pulse hammered.
Jackpot.
He ducked his head, playing coy. "Uh, it's been ages since you washed me, Auntie. Kinda hoping you'd help..."