Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
His answer is brief. “No.”
“Then why now?”
“Because you need riding gear, something nice to wear to dinner this evening, and something very, very sexy that I can tear off your body tonight.” He slaps my rump. “Now, off you go before I change my mind and fuck you again.”
I jump out of bed laughing. Naked as the day I was born I head towards the door. There is more sway to my hips than normal. Let him watch and thirst. Then my foot steps on something next to his discarded jacket. I stop and pick it up. It is a USB stick. Holding it up I turn around.
“Is this what Lan—”
I stop abruptly because he has sat bolt upright in bed. That lazy indulgent expression in his eyes has completely disappeared and in its place a shocking intensity as his forefinger flies towards his mouth in a shhhh gesture.
He bounds out of bed, takes the stick from my hand and says, “Have a lovely time. I will explain when we get to my house this afternoon.”
I stare at his intense face in shock. It is like stroking a tame cat and having it suddenly turn into a wild tiger. He presses my arm as if reassuring me, or just encouraging me to go along with whatever was going on. Shocked by the lightning fast change in him, and by the mystery of what is truly going on, I can only nod dumbly, and walk away towards the other bathroom, where all my toiletries still are.
As I shower I think about the USB stick and what could possibly be in it that is so secret it cannot even be spoken aloud about. Why did he silence even my innocent question? Does he think we are being surveilled? Is someone listening to us? What is he involved with?
By the time my hair is dried I am no wiser. As I pull my shoes on, the bell goes. I quickly rush out of the room and open the door. A small woman with a big smile is standing outside.
“Ah, you must be Raine. I’m Jane Barrymore, your stylist for the day.”
“Hi, Jane. Er… come in. Would you like to have coffee or something?”
She glances at her watch. “No, I’ve had breakfast. I was thinking we could hit the shops running.”
“Yeah, sure. Can we stop at a Starbucks or something?”
“Of course,” she says with another massive smile.
For the next three hours we hit the shops, but shopping with Jane is a whole other experience. She takes me into air-conditioned, high-end boutiques where all the sales assistants look like perfectly made up dolls with attitude. But they fall over themselves to please her. In one place they even open a bottle of champagne for us.
I quickly realize that Jane’s big, dopey smile is just a front. In fact, she is extremely efficient, professional, and exacting. She knows exactly what she wants and doesn’t allow anybody to distract her with anything but exactly what she wants. If she wants an item in blue and they only have yellow, then she sends someone by taxi to another location to go fetch the color she wants. All right, or fine will not do. Only fabulous will.
My head is spinning with all the selections she makes me try on and discard. A trouser suit which I will never wear after this weekend, two silk blouses, a tight black skirt, an ephemerally beautiful blue dress that is exactly the same color as my eyes. A gorgeous baby blue summer coat for the warm evenings, and a riding habit. We also drop by a lingerie store where I pick up a couple of underwear sets, the sweetest gossamer pink nightie ever with matching suspenders and sheer white stockings.
Then she gets me a suitcase for me to transport all my new stuff back in. I don’t know exactly how much money we have spent, but for sure it must have cost many thousands of pounds. Just the blue dress alone was £4,200,00. I saw the price tag before the sales assistant removed it.
“I think we’re done,” she declares looking at her small gold wrist watch. “And it is time for me to take you to Mr. Tsarnov.”
I nod. “Right. Back to the hotel.”
“No, actually. I believe you are having lunch at a restaurant and I’m supposed to drop you off outside.”
“Oh.”
We jump into the back of the car and her driver takes us back to Mayfair and comes to a stop in front of a restaurant called the Orange Bayleaf.
Jane turns to me. “There you are. Here is where I’m supposed to drop you off. Goodbye, Raine. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I know you are going to look stunning in everything we have selected.”
I smile gratefully at her. “Thank you so much for your help. You were amazing. To be perfectly honest, I feel as if I’ve been in a whirlwind. Everything is moving so fast, but I have definitely enjoyed watching you work.”