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)
After another unbearable wait, I heard her door open, and the soft sound of footsteps. My body tightened at the sight of her. Her olive-green lounge set looked stunning on her. I tried not to stare at her chest, wondering if she was wearing a bra. I hoped not, I wanted her to be comfortable.
It had nothing to do with my desire to see as much of her figure as possible. Or have the chance to embrace her and feel her curves against me… I was hard in an instant. And that was before I saw the adorable fuzzy slippers she was wearing.
Dear lord, I wanted to see her bare feet. I had never had a foot fetish, but suddenly I understood it. But it was only her feet I was after. My darling Mishka.
I lifted my gaze from her feet to her face.
“I thought you might have fallen asleep,” I said in English. We’d been practicing. She was proficient, with a charming accent that sounded almost European, instead of Russian.
I myself did not have an accent at all. Like many things, it had been beaten out of me.
“I am sorry. I was straightening up,” she said shyly. Then gave a wry smile. “Force of habit.”
I laughed at her little joke. But then I sobered.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She looked at me, her pretty little face uncertain.
“But I am a maid. For the foreseeable future.”
“You don’t have to be,” I breathed. But before she could ask for clarity on that dangerous subject, I drew her attention to the food.
“I wasn’t sure what you might want. I hope this suits.”
“Did you order the entire menu?” Mishka asked, her eyes wide, instinctively switching to Russian. I knew she was tired. I decided to do the same.
“Not… quite. But almost,” I said with a grin. I loved impressing her. I loved spoiling her. I couldn’t wait to do it for the rest of my life.
What would it take to get a ring on her finger, I wondered. The last stop of our trip, I hoped to find out. We would visit Switzerland. I would ask her father for permission to marry her.
That would make the old man smile. I hoped so, anyway. He might not want her tainted by the Aslanov name, I realized, suddenly worried.
I would promise to protect her. I would swear to change the family holdings to be all above board. I would disavow the Aslanov name if I had to.
I exhaled, watching as she tasted the food. We sat on the couch side by side. I sipped my wine and took a few bites.
“What sort of movies do you like?”
She smiled.
“Romances. And comedy. Sometimes sci-fi, but not if it’s too scary.”
“Ah, I see. Nothing to give you nightmares.”
She nodded, clearly happy that I understood. I clicked on a romantic comedy.
“Does this suit?”
She gave me a sweet smile.
“I’ve wanted to see that! I thought it was still in the theaters?”
“It is. Five-star hotels do have some perks, now and then,” I said dryly. I was thrilled that she was happy. I nearly choked when she kicked off her shoes and tucked them underneath her.
I had only gotten a glimpse… but her cute little feet had sent a shock of lust through me. Lust, but combined with tenderness. I suddenly understood the desire for a family. A white picket fence. Christmas trees and presents and breakfast in bed. Baby toes and swaddling.
It was absurd. It was more than absurd. It was ridiculous.
But it was also true.
I settled back in my seat to watch Mishka watch the movie. I was surreptitious. I shifted my eyes back to the screen when she turned to look at me.
It wasn’t long until I heard the tenor of her breathing change. I turned my head. She was asleep.
My breath caught. I could look at her now. She would never know. And since she was fully clothed, I didn’t feel any guilt about looking my fill.
Particularly since I had been spying on her since day one, I thought with a curious pang of guilt. I had recently started to feel some complicated feelings about watching her on the video feed at home. I was addicted to her. But it was wrong. My Mishka would be horrified.
I realized suddenly that I respected and cared for her too much. I sent Linkski instructions to remove the cameras, leaving only the camera in the music room. I would miss watching her. But if I had any hope of building a life with her, it had to stop.
Having her in my arms and my bed was vastly preferable to watching her in 2D anyway.
When she married me, I would give her a ring with a tracking device in it, I decided. That was for her safety. But for the time being, I would give her back her privacy.