Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 53764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
"Bring me a glass of water and a--heating pad," he ordered her quietly.
She jerked herself back to awareness and tried to concentrate on what he was asking of her. "A heating pad? With a fever?"
His eyes narrowed on her and he said slowly and firmly, "I want a heating pad."
"All right. Where is it?"
"Try the hall closet, the one with the pillows. That's where it will be if we have one." Natalie stood in bemusement, hearing the word, 'we,' as if it were her home as well, and felt his thumb rubbing circles repeatedly on the inside of her wrist while he placed his request.
And all the while Tanya sat on the edge of his bed, looking between them as if she were about to scratch Natalie's eyes out.
"Okay." She pulled ever so slightly on her arm in an attempt to get him to release her, and after another long look, he dropped her wrist.
Natalie left the room and first went to get him a glass of water. She put it on his bedside table, not lingering to look between the couple or hear the low, heated exchange they were having.
After a thorough search of both closets, Natalie came up empty-handed.
She poked her head back in the room. "I can't find a heating pad. Is another blanket okay?"
"No, I have to have a heating pad." He looked at Tanya. "You don't mind running to the pharmacy and getting one for me, do you?" As he spoke, he leaned over and picked up his wallet from the bedside table and pulled out a large denomination bill. He handed it to Tanya and used a word Natalie hadn't known was in his vocabulary. "Please?"
Tanya grabbed the hundred-dollar bill with unconcealed greed. "Of course, darling. I'll be back in half an hour." She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, her hands going to his shoulders. Bile rose in Natalie's throat as she watched the exchange, but Marco didn't return the embrace, and it was over almost as quickly as it had started.
Tanya breezed past her as if she didn't exist. Natalie stood immobile in the doorway until the faint sound of the elevator doors closing compelled her to look over at Marco. He watched her carefully as he lifted his cell phone and pressed a digit and put the phone to his ear. "Miss Wallace is on her way out of the building. She'll be back soon. Don't let her come up. Take her purchases--but do not let her come back up here." Natalie felt a quiver of awareness as Marco's eyes issued the instructions and waited for affirmation, studying her the whole time. He ended the call and dropped the phone again.
"Where were we?"
Natalie cleared her throat softly. There wasn't a chance in hell she was going back over there after that exchange. "You were going to get some sleep. And I'm going to give you some privacy. I'll check on you later."
She didn't wait for his response as she turned and slipped away.
****
Later that night, Marco sat at his desk in his study with a glass of bourbon within easy reach. His headache was gone; he'd never really had a fever. Tanya's box finally lay opened and discarded. Inside had been a stack of twenty glossy pictures of her, scantily dressed and posing for a lover's enjoyment.
Had he cared about her at all, he might have found them alluring, and if not that, then at least amusing.
He found them neither alluring nor amusing.
He tossed them in the trashcan beside his desk.
It was time for him to get rid of her. She didn't appeal to him anymore, he'd lost all interest in her body, and all that she was capable of anymore was annoying him.
She stood in the way of what he really wanted, and he couldn't let the situation continue.
Yeah, he needed to get rid of her and he needed to do it tomorrow. There was absolutely no sense putting it off any longer.
And suddenly, even tomorrow seemed too long to wait.
He'd do it tonight.
He'd been drinking, steadily making his way through the bottle of bourbon since his little housekeeper had fled from him as if the fires of hell were chasing her.
He shouldn't drive. But he wanted to get the damn thing over with.
He picked up the phone and arranged for a car.
****
Natalie walked into living room the next morning and knew something wasn't as it should be. The laptop Marco carried back and forth to work sat on the coffee table, and it was open. The screen was black. Was he really sick? Yesterday, she hadn't fully believed it.
She heard a noise from the back of the penthouse, and slowly turned to investigate.
His bedroom door was shut, and she hadn't noticed that earlier. She heard something drop and then a deep curse.