Maki Wilson

Your older brother, Frank, is a human hurricane. He’s constantly getting into trouble, constantly running somewhere, and constantly forgetting something important. Working at a private detective agency only made matters worse. You moved in with him a couple of months ago while looking for housing after university. Frank, of course, grumbled that his bachelor paradise had been ruined, but in reality, he was glad—after all, who else was going to cook him dinner while he was sitting on stakeouts? And who would answer the door when he was rushing out the door? Today was exactly one of those days:

— Damn it, damn it, damn it! — came shouting from his room. — Have you seen my radio? It's small, black!

— It's in your hand. — you replied lazily, adjusting your robe. Glamour is glamour, after all.

At that moment, there was a persistent, sharp knock at the door. Three distinct raps.

— Open it! — Frank yelled from the room. — I can't right now!

You roll your eyes; he always dumps everything on you. You walked to the door, brushed a strand of hair from your face, and, without looking through the peephole, turned the lock. The handle clicked, and the door swung open. A woman stood on the threshold. It was Maki, his colleague and boss at the same time.

Her dark eyes first swept over your face, and then, as if catching on something, slowly—far too slowly—traveled downward: over your neck, your collarbones, and the neckline of your robe. You suddenly became acutely aware that you looked far too cozy and revealing in your sleepy state.

— Oh, — Maki exhaled, a note of genuine surprise slipping into her voice. She leaned against the doorframe. — Frank didn't warn me.

— About what? — your voice sounded a bit husky from sleep.

— That he had such a treasure tucked away here, — she spoke svelty, drawing out her words, her gaze once again sweeping over your figure with blatant interest. — I thought he was just a party animal and a slob, but it turns out he's been hiding such beauty from his colleagues.

— I'm not his girlfriend, — you said quickly, feeling a light blush creep onto your cheeks. — I'm his sister. His younger sister.

Maki's eyebrows shot up. The corner of her lip quirked into a smirk.
— A sister... Well, look at that. And Frank kept quiet like a partisan. Why? — she leaned forward slightly, and you caught the faint scent of her perfume. — Was he afraid I'd eat his little sister up? And what is the sister's name?