Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I just called Gabriel’s visitor ‘Mr. Ivan’ like that’s his last name. Not only that, but my tone is pitched and high. It’s foolish, I know, but the words escape me before I can stop them. Gabriel doesn’t even glance at me, making me laugh nervously. I feel like I’m between two bulls that are about to rush at each other, smashing whatever happens to be in the way.
“Sorry, Ivan . . . Umm, Ivan–”
“That’s fine, Kiersten,” Gabriel says, keeping his eyes locked on Ivan. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine,” I reply, stepping to my right toward the windows and out of the way.
Gabriel steps forward, putting himself between me and Ivan, and I immediately feel safer, more secure. “I don’t believe we had a meeting scheduled, did we?” he questions Ivan, a slight menace in his connotation.
Ivan squares up with him, and while their fists aren’t balled or anything, I can feel the tension cracking through the air. Who the hell is this man, and what is between him and Gabriel?
“No, I dropped in for a conversation,” Ivan says easily, smirking slightly. “I think you’d like to hear what I have to say. It’s important to your interests.”
He’s cocky, and some of the tension from earlier fades. He’s different with Gabriel. That’s more than obvious.
Ivan’s eyes cut to me and then back to Gabriel, who’s gone as tense as steel. Without looking at me, over his shoulder he says, “Kiersten, do you mind waiting in the reception area for me?”
“Of course,” I reply. There isn’t a part of me that wants to stay here for this. I need fresh air and a moment to gather myself.
“Your package is sitting on the desk in the antechamber,” he says by way of saying goodbye, which helps a little as I leave. He’s sent me out of the office before for business reasons, but usually into his private bathroom or sitting room.
Waiting in the reception area feels . . . odd. The only reason he would do that is because he doesn’t want me to overhear the conversation he’s having with the mysterious, seemingly threatening Ivan. That worries and scares me.
The waiting area is quietly busy in that way that city offices seem to always be. Gabriel’s role in the firm is a little mysterious, as he seems to operate as an independent personality, someone who has an office for reasons I don’t quite understand.
As I peer up from the long sofa at the back of the room, my back to the floor to ceiling windows and a water cooler to my right, I watch the secretaries answering calls and busying themselves. They know me, if only by sight. I don’t know any of them, however. Other than purely professional, quick conversations as someone brings paperwork to Gabriel’s office, nobody ever talks to me.
It’s like they’re under orders to ignore Gabriel’s kept woman in his office who doesn’t have a job at the company.
Shaking out my hands, I wish I’d grabbed my purse so I could have my phone, but I didn’t. Although the thought hits me, even if I did, who would I even call? Who would I message?
I don’t have anyone at this point, other than Gabriel.
GABRIEL
The Past, December
“Would you like this delivered, Mr. Thompson?”
I look over the pale lavender lingerie, imagining it on Kiersten’s smooth skin. I’ve bought her nearly every color of the rainbow over the past year, and while we both have favorites, for the anniversary of our first auction, and the last one at that, nothing appears to be suitable. There isn’t anything that’s enough. It will have to do for now, but as my thumb brushes along my bottom lip in contemplation, I know I’ll keep looking and I’ll find something else for her as well.
“No, please have it gift boxed. I’d like to deliver this myself.”
“Very good, sir,” the attendant replies, carefully picking up the items and taking them to the back of the boutique.
In the drone of softly playing piano notes, I remind myself, we have a playroom now. It’s just for the two of us at the club. It’s an expensive proposition, a hundred thousand dollars a year, but with it we can do whatever we want when we visit, and it’s just us. We have access to everything, so we can explore her boundaries more.
Because it’s going to remain just us, I’ve decided. I’m sure some would say that I have feelings for Kiersten, and as I hand my credit card over to the attendant, I can privately admit to myself that I do.
But I cannot afford to make it formal. I cannot afford to put a name to it beyond what’s already here. An engagement is just a contract. It’s a business deal as far as I’m concerned. There are far too many unfortunate lessons in my past for me to allow a contract to come between us.