Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Judging from the look in his eyes, he thought I looked good, too. His nostril flared. For a minute I thought he was going to charge me like a bull. Part of me wanted him to.
My stomach did a little flip flop.
He stepped closer, not quite in the doorway. His eyes were devouring me. I glanced down, feeling like I was naked. But no. I was enveloped in the enormous robe. There was no way he could see anything underneath the robe.
But the look in his eyes…
“I thought you could use a pick me up,” he said, holding out the tiny cup and saucer. I took it gratefully.
“Thank you. I am a little tired.”
“We could skip dinner,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. “If you like.”
“What?”
“I can’t imagine you would look better in that dress.”
I stared at him, not sure what to say. He was staring at my mouth. He cleared his throat and stepped back.
“What do you think, Mishka? Would you rather get room service and watch a movie?”
“Won’t your business associates mind if you cancel?”
“I don’t care.”
“It’s up to you,” I said. I was hungry. But I was tired.
“I’m calling it. Let’s stay in. I can meet them for breakfast before our departure. Or we can see them on our way back home. Before Paris,” he added.
I blinked. What else did he have planned for us? It was strange and exhilarating to let go and let someone else plan. But I felt uncertain. And too tired to think clearly.
“Should I put the dress on? Or my uniform?” I felt relieved. I could barely keep my eyes open. I sipped the cappuccino. I had no idea what to wear to eat with my boss in such an intimate setting.
“No uniform. I think we should burn it,” he joked.
“I… what?”
He ignored my stammering response, clearly in problem solving mode.
“Didn’t we get you something for the plane ride? Lounge wear? Or feel free to leave on the robe,” he joked.
“I…”
“I’ve shocked you. May I come in?”
I stepped back. He brushed past me, so close that I could smell him. The warm, familiar scent of him washed over me. I nearly melted. Was I falling in love with my boss? My captor? Or was I just so tired that I wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet?
He walked to the deep closet and stepped inside. I followed him. I hadn’t even looked in there. He riffled through some drawers and reached inside. He pulled out a set of olive-green velvet wide leg pants with a matching cowl neck top.
“A bit warm to sleep in perhaps, but you should have a couple of things like this for lounging.”
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t remember trying that on. I realized he had truly furnished me with a complete wardrobe. A rich woman’s wardrobe, I amended. “Thank you.”
He nodded. Then walked briskly to the bed. He reached for the clothing there, then pulled his hand back as if it was burned. I looked at him and realized he was staring at the lingerie set. My cheeks turned pink. I felt naked. I was naked, under the robe, anyway.
“I’ll… order for us. Unless you want something specific,” his voice sounded strangled. He was still looking at the bed.
I shook my head, then realized he couldn’t see me. He was lost in his thoughts. For once, I had a very good idea what those thoughts were about.
Me. In lacy underthings. On that bed.
“Yes, thank you.”
He tore his eyes from the bed, and stared at me. He looked desperate, as if he was an animal trapped in a cage, frantic to get out. I swallowed and held my robe closed shut, feeling suddenly fearful. As if I was also an animal, but a smaller one.
One that he wanted to eat.
He turned abruptly and walked briskly to the door. He shut it behind him without hesitation. I sank to the bed, still holding my robe closed. It was almost ten minutes before my heart rate stabilized. I slowly got dressed, and put the discarded evening clothes away.
I steeled my nerves, and prepared to eat an intimate dinner with Anton.
Chapter 29
Anton
Istared at her door, willing Mishka to appear. I had expected her to come out quickly. The food has already arrived and I’d set up the coffee table in front of the television, and queued up the on-demand movie channel. I’d even picked out a few new releases that I thought might interest her, with no thought to my own enjoyment.
I had become selfless, in my selfish quest to please her. Making her happy would make me feel good. It would make me feel important. Proud. Satisfied.
I knew I’d be watching her, and not the movie, anyway.
Waiting for her was driving me mad. I had a million things to do. I could and should be checking the markets. I forced myself to pour myself a glass of wine and pull out a newspaper while I waited.