Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
And I liked it.
* * *
The next morning, I returned from my swim and stepped inside the living room in my bedroom suite. Breakfast had been set up at the table near the window—a pot of hot coffee, a vase with a single rose, and two silver platters that were covered with stainless-steel tops.
I removed my shorts and set them in the hamper and tied a towel around my waist.
Muse stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in one of my black t-shirts. Her hair was messy and pulled over one shoulder, and she still had a sleepy look in her eyes. She must have just woken up.
“Morning.”
“Morning.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she walked toward me, her beautiful legs moving with grace. “How was your swim?” She was so cold to me yesterday, but now everything felt the way it used to.
“Good.” I circled her waist with my arms, and I kissed her.
She rose on her tiptoes to meet my kiss with her own. Her hands moved to my bare shoulders, her skin warm to the touch.
I never thought I’d like to be greeted that way, but I enjoyed it immensely. “Hungry?”
“Always.”
The corner of my lip rose in a smile, and I pulled out the chair for her so she could sit. Then I moved to the other side of the table and poured myself a mug of coffee.
She removed the lid to her dish and started to devour her egg white omelet. Her eyes were still lidded with sleepiness, but she would perk up after another fifteen minutes.
I opened the newspaper and started to read. I was barely halfway through my first article when I felt her staring at me. I shifted my gaze up to look at her. “Yes?”
“You read the paper every morning?”
“I try.”
“Why?”
“I like to know what’s going on in the world.” I sipped my coffee.
“You just don’t seem like someone who would care. You have so many emails and other things to worry about.”
Work never stopped because running such a huge empire was a constant hardship. It didn’t matter how many times I worked through the night, there was always something I didn’t get finished. So I’d stopped trying, realizing I needed to live my life instead of attempting to do the impossible. “Ever since I can remember, my father has always read the paper at breakfast. He did it when I was young, and he still did it up until the day I moved out. My mother usually stared out the window and sipped her coffee in silence. The first day I lived on my own, that’s what I did—read the paper.” I closed the newspaper and set it off to the side, knowing I wouldn’t have a chance to read it anyway.
“You look up to your father a lot.”
“Is it that obvious?” I asked sarcastically.
“May I ask why?”
“Doesn’t every son look up to his father?”
She chuckled like I made a joke. “Definitely not. Just because you’re a father doesn’t mean you aren’t an asshole.”
There were a lot of things I admired about my father. He was honest and concise. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, he got his point across very well. “I started to notice the way people spoke to him when I was young. It was always with reverent respect, even a little fear. My father commands authority without words. There’s something about him that makes people stand up straight. The only person who doesn’t follow this pattern is my mother. She’s the only one with permission to speak to him however she wants—and he allows it. But I know he allows it because he loves her. No one else will ever earn the right—not even me. He’s the hardest worker I know, staying in great shape even now. He’s a wealthy man who grew his fortune exponentially on his own. He earned my respect when I was a boy—and not because I had to give it to him. He raised me into the man I am now, teaching me to be a hardworking and honest man. His approval means a lot to me.”
“I can tell he’s proud of you.”
I gave a slight nod. “When I told my parents about my ambitions, I knew it would be awkward. To tell them I design sex clothes because of my obsession with women wasn’t easy. At first, my mom asked if I was gay. My father knew I wasn’t because he’d caught me in my promiscuous ways…many times. He just never told her about it. They both wanted me to take over the wine business. My father wants to hand me his legacy. But when I told them this was the path I’d chosen, they both accepted it. My father said he was proud of me and has always accepted me exactly as I am. That approval means the world to me.”