Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
He was almost at the door when I spun around and asked, “Do you want a cup of tea?” I asked. I hadn’t switched on all the lights and the only lighting came from a row of lights over the fridge. It was enough to see his gorgeous eyes.
“I don’t drink tea.”
It was a rejection. All we ever did was fuck. He wouldn’t even share a quiet drink with me. I nodded politely and quickly turned back. No problem. At least he was consistent. He didn’t give me false hope.
“I’d love a coffee instead,” he said.
He couldn’t see me, but my lips broke into the biggest grin my muscles could stretch into. To my great delight, I heard the scrape of a chair. He was taking a seat by the table in the corner.
I didn't turn back around until his cup was ready. I took both our beverages to the table and placed his before him.
“Thanks,” he murmured, and took a sip from his drink.
I did the same. I knew his eyes were on me, and it made the hairs on my body stand on end.
“How was Yulia today after her appointment with her new psychiatrist?”
“She seemed relieved. I could be wrong, but I think she is hiding something.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t have any proof or evidence, but I got the feeling that she was terrified to meet the new psychiatrist because she was afraid the man would have some new technique that would make her reveal her secret.”
He sat back. “What could she possibly be scared of or hiding?”
I shook my head. “No idea, but maybe if I can get her to trust me enough, she might tell me.”
He nodded. “You’ve done a good job so far. Thank you.”
I’d never heard him sound so sincere in his praise in all the time I had been at the house and it made me feel a warm flush of pride. “You’re welcome.”
“Is this yours?” he asked, indicating a book I was reading about leather working.”
I nodded.
“Why are you reading it?” he asked curiously.
“It’s my hobby,” I replied. “I mentioned this is my resume.”
“Hmm,” was his response which simply meant he had glossed over it.
It was totally senseless, but I felt a sting. I was becoming too sensitive. What did I expect? That my billionaire boss would be interested in the hobbies of his niece’s nanny?
“Why leather working?” He seemed genuinely interested now.
“Well, creating beautiful things makes me happy. I didn’t…” I hesitated, then I just let it out, “I didn’t grow up with much, so perhaps that’s why I appreciate more than most, beautiful things and places. Like your home for instance. It’s incredibly beautiful.”
“So you’re happy here?” His eyes were on me over the rim of his cup as he took another sip.
I didn't back down from his gaze. “I’m not sad.”
His was a simple nod, as he drained his cup.
Would you like another? The question begged to be asked, but I kept my mouth shut. He would leave and I resigned myself to that fact. My heart wanted so desperately for him to ask me more, though.
He rose to his feet, and a question popped out of me, “What about you? What makes you happy?”
“I don’t know what that means,” he answered slowly. “I do know I’m not sad, and that’s simply because I’m not dead. And neither is Alex or Yulia. That’s more than I could ever ask for.”
I stared at him in astonishment. He was a billionaire, he had the life most people only could dream of. He was good looking, had a great body, he had youth, and all he could be grateful for was that he, Yulia and Alex weren’t dead? Jesus. Thank God, I was poor!
He rolled his head and stretched his arms. I watched his hair, a dark wavy mass brush his collar. I thought of the times I had run my hands through the silky strands. It was perfectly beautiful and so wildly sexy, but I wanted to hold him back even if it was with just one more sentence to him. His hair was the only topic of neutrality I could zero in on. My mouth opened and words tumbled out, “You need a haircut.”
“What I need is to fuck you,” he said flatly.
Laughter that I didn’t expect bubbled out of my lips.
His mouth stretched into a full grin that made my heart swell with so much emotion I was sure it would burst. “But you were just about to leave,” I pointed out.
“I’m exhausted,” he confessed. “I returned barely an hour ago. It was a long day. I would probably have found my way later on to your room.” He looked down at himself. “God, I’m already so fucking hard.”
“Why don't I cut your hair? Then while I wash it, you can fuck me however you want. That should be a good usher into a good night’s sleep for you.”