Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
I turn to look at myself in the mirror. The diamonds sparkle in my ears, their light pure and clear.
Pulling back his sleeve, he checks his watch. “I’ll pull the car out of the garage. You better grab your portfolio.”
As I don’t have a clutch bag that matches the dress, I throw my lipstick and brush in a tote bag and hurriedly pull on a clean pair of panties before making my way downstairs. The roar of Leon’s car already sounds from outside when I enter his study.
My drawing pad lies on his desk, open on the page where he drew his stickman. My heart constricts with an inexplicable emotion that makes me want to wrap my arms around Leon and hold him close. Sometimes, I forget that he’s just a man, and that even big, powerful men need comfort.
Grabbing the folder with my sketches, I gently insert it into the bag, and then I make my way to the front door where Leon is waiting for me. He locks up and sets the alarm before leading me to the car.
We make it to our destination without breaking the speed limit and with five minutes to spare. Vero lives in an old part of Parktown. The double-story mansion is built on three thousand square meters of land. The garden is neatly cultivated with a green lawn and colorful flowers. My favorite part is the giant oak trees lining the driveway.
A doorman stands ready when Leon parks the car. He sees us inside and tells us to make ourselves at home. When I ask where I can leave my tote bag, he shows me a cloak room that’s twice the size of our bedroom.
Taking my arm, Leon leads me into a lounge that’s already packed with people dressed in evening wear. Waiters walk around with trays of cocktail food and drinks. Leon takes two glasses of Kir Royal from a passing waiter and puts one in my hand.
From across the room, I spot Vero talking to a group of men. She’s wearing a red dress that hugs her curves, and her strawberry blond hair is taken up in a stylish ballerina bun. With smoky eye-shadow and red lipstick to round off her appearance, she looks like she belongs on the cover of a fashion magazine.
Catching my gaze, she waves and curls a finger to call us over.
She offers us a warm smile when we reach her. “You found drinks. Good. Leon, I’d like to introduce you to my husband, James. He’s an artificial intelligence engineer for Denel Aeronautics. The two of you have lots to talk about.”
She hooks her arm through mine and whisks me away, weaving a path around the mingling people. “You look stunning. Great dress.”
I pull at the hem. “Thanks. So do you. How on earth did you get ready so quickly when you left work later than me?”
“Private hairdresser and beautician.” She winks. “Time is money, as the saying goes.”
I glance over my shoulder to where Leon is conversing with James, a tall man with salt and pepper hair and gray eyes.
“He’ll be fine,” Vero says. “James is a great host. Did you bring some of your sketches?”
“They’re in my tote bag in the cloak room.”
“Excellent.”
She pulls me through a door into a library with dark wood furnishings and thick red rugs. Two men are conversing in front of a desk, a tumbler with amber liquor in each’s hand.
My throat is suddenly too dry. Tipping my glass, I gulp down the blackcurrant-flavored champagne.
“Ethan, darling,” she says, leading me to a man wearing a tux and a paisley bowtie. “This is Violet Hart, the colleague I wanted you to meet.”
The other man inclines his head and leaves quietly.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” she says, flashing us a bright smile before sweeping from the room.
A moment of awkward silence follows as Ethan Meyer and I face each other. He’s shorter than I pictured him. He looks taller in his media photos.
I swallow. Shall I shake his hand? Deciding against it, I say, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Meyer. I’m a big fan of your work and your clients.”
“We’re both friends of Vero. We can drop the formality. Call me Ethan.” He takes a sip of his drink while sizing me up with his gaze. “Nice dress. Christie Brown?”
“Thank you, and yes.”
“Now that’s one talented designer.” Cupping a hand over his lips, he adds from the corner of his mouth, “As well as a personal friend.”
“I’ll tell my husband you approve. He’s the one who chose the dress.”
“Please tell your husband he has excellent taste. I do appreciate a man who knows how to treat his partner.” He motions around. “It’s pleasantly quiet here. I’m not very fond of crowds. Or of noise pollution, for that matter.” Looking at the empty glass in my hand, he asks, “Drink?”