Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I lean back and think about my next meeting. Yeah, it’s important, but I can already guess with 90% certainty what James and Steven are going to say, and it can wait until tomorrow, Wednesday, or Friday, or even next week.
I know it’s an absolutely terrible idea, but I cannot help myself. I rap on the partition glass and meet the chauffeur’s eyes through the rearview mirror, his expression expectant, waiting for my next instruction.
Chapter Thirty
LARA
Uggh… that man needs a punch to his smug face. Why does he have to be so damn hateful?
I don’t know what I thought, but after what happened last night, I certainly did not expect him to be so cold and impatient, as if he couldn’t wait to get rid of me. As if I was an irritating nuisance interrupting his busy day. He makes me feel so stupid and foolish, even when I’m discussing serious matters. We have a crazy arrangement between us so obviously I’m going to want to make sure I’m not signing anything that would cause me regrets for the rest of my life. Throwing the phone onto the bed, I take a deep breath and let go of my annoyance.
Main thing is, I made my stance clear.
Let him get on with running his great empire, I need food. I’m starving. I think back to the meal we were planning in the kitchen before we both lost our heads. I go over to the strawberries and bite into one of them. I can honestly say, I have never had a sweeter, juicier fruit in my life.
I move over to the window. Marveling at the amazing skyline and the city spread out under me, I eat a couple more, then take a shower. Under the heated cascade, it’s hard not to think of his touch on my body. After the way he spoke to me, it seems like I must have dreamed it. But in this enclosed space, with my eyes closed, I can still feel his hands on every inch of me so intensely that it becomes nearly impossible to breathe.
He was exactly as rough as I wanted him to be, and then he was soft and sensual when it mattered. It felt like he understood and knew my body better than any man I’ve ever been with, hell, better than even I do. At one point during my climax the sensations that gripped me were so intense and overpowering I thought I was dying. I might even have blacked out for a bit. That has never happened to me before. Ever.
And yet, we haven’t even had a proper conversation. Other than mutually wanting to tear each other apart we don’t even have anything in common. And yet here I am wanting his body inside me. Shaking my head at the almost surreal situation I find myself in, I step out of the shower. This constant emotional rollercoaster is driving me crazy, but at this point, I’m more than willing to blame my weakness and frustration on hunger, so I focus entirely on getting on with the day.
On the vanity, there’s an assortment of expensive-looking lotions and creams gathered neatly on the spotless glass surface. I pick up a jar of moisturizer, unscrew the lid and bring it to my nose. It even smells costly. As I lather the sumptuous cream onto my skin, I have to admit, I’m really surprised by the detail and care put into my stay here. Obviously, he’s not the one who personally picked any of these out, so I wonder who did. Was it Muriel?
Heading into the closet to find something to wear, I have to decide that it’s absolutely not her because the style of the clothes doesn’t match what a woman of her age would care for. I wouldn’t call them slutty, because they are clearly exclusive, beautiful and opulent, but they’re all deliberately sexy. Clothes designed to turn a man on. But as I move through the rails I have to admit there are also a multitude of formal and perfectly decent options available. I suppose I should thank whoever had gone shopping for me because never in a million years would I have been able to afford such luxurious and costly outfits.
I choose a black camisole and a classy pair of cream linen trousers. Both are comfortable and when I pair them with a striped pale green linen dress shirt, I feel quite happy with the result.
Grabbing my phone, I head out of the room and make my way down the stairs. In the bright light of day, I can admire the magnificent apartment even more. The sunlight filters through the ceiling-to-floor windows, bringing the place to life like magic.
I also have more time to study the paintings. His collection is exquisite. Each piece is special. From what I can see he is not into modern art. It seems to be mostly impressionist. I almost get carried away inspecting the pieces and trying to identify them. I’m pretty sure the combined value of them could easily buy the house itself.