The Mister Read online E.L. James

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
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“Pulled pork from one of the local farms, with a salad of fresh leaves, finished with a pomegranate jus,” Danny says.

“Thanks,” Maxim responds, and gives Danny a quizzical look.

“Would you like me to pour the wine, my lord?”

“I’ve got this. Thanks, Danny.”

She gives him a little nod and discreetly ushers the young woman out the door.

“A glass of wine?” Maxim picks up the bottle and studies the label. “It’s a good Chablis.”

“Yes. Please.” She watches as he half fills her glass. “I have never been…waitered on, except when I am with you.”

“Waited on,” he says. “While we’re here, you might as well get used to it.” He winks at her.

“You do not have staff in London.”

“No. Though that may have to change.” His brow furrows for a moment, and then he raises his glass. “To narrow escapes.”

She raises hers. “Gëzuar, Maxim. My lord.”

He laughs. “I’m still not used to the title. Eat up. You’ve had a horrible morning.”

“I think the afternoon will be much better.”

Maxim’s look is heated—and Alessia smiles and takes a cautious sip of her wine.

“Mmm…” It is so much better than the wine she tasted with her grandmother.

“You like?” Maxim asks.

She nods and studies her cutlery. She has an array of knives and forks to choose from. Glancing at Maxim, she sees him smile and pick up the outermost knife and fork. “Always start from the outside and work inward with each course.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

After lunch we head outside. Alessia’s hand is warm in mine. The day is crisp and cold, and the sun is low in the sky as we walk together down the beech-lined avenue that leads to the front gates. Jensen and Healey scamper along behind, beside, and in front of us, grateful to be outdoors. After the trauma of this morning, I think we’re both enjoying this quiet and peaceful walk in the late-afternoon sunshine.

“Look!” Alessia exclaims as she points to the herd of fallow deer grazing on the horizon of the north pasture.

“We’ve had deer here for centuries.”

“The one we saw yesterday. It was from here?”

“No. I think it was wild.”

“The dogs do not bother them?”

“No. But we keep the dogs out of the south pasture near lambing time. We don’t want them worrying the sheep.”

“There are no goats here?”

“No. We’re more sheep and cattle people.”

“We are goat people.” She grins at me. Her nose is pink from the cold, but she’s bundled up in her coat, hat, and scarf. She looks adorable. And I find it hard to believe that she was the victim of an attempted kidnapping this morning.

My girl is stoic.

But there’s one thing that’s been bugging me. I have to know. “Why did you want to leave? Why didn’t you want to stay and have it out with me?” I hope she doesn’t hear the apprehension in my voice.

“Have it out with you?”

“Talk to me. Argue with me,” I explain.

She stops beneath one of the beech trees and looks down at her boots, and I don’t know if she’s going to answer me.

“I was hurt,” she says after an age.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. But where would you have gone?”

“I don’t know.” She turns to face me. “I think it was…how do you say? Instinct. You know, Ylli and Dante…I’ve been running for so long. I was a little crazy.”

“I can’t imagine how terrifying that was for you.” I cringe and close my eyes, thanking all the gods that I got to her in time. “But you can’t run every time we have a problem. Talk to me. Ask me questions. About anything. I’m here. I’ll listen. Argue with me. Shout at me. I’ll argue with you. I’ll shout at you. I’ll get it wrong. You’ll get it wrong. That’s all okay. But to resolve our differences, we have to communicate.”

A fleeting look of anxiety crosses her face.

“Hey.” I tilt her chin up and draw her closer to me. “Don’t look worried. If…if you’re going to live with me…you know. You need to tell me how you feel.”

“Live with you?” she whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Here?”

“Here. And in London. Yes. I want you to live with me.”

“As your cleaner?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No. As my girlfriend. I meant what I said on the landing. Let’s do this.” I hold my breath. My heart is racing. And deep down, I don’t know what choice she has—but I love her. I want her with me. Marriage seems too big a step to throw at her right now. I don’t want her to run again.

Bro, it’s also a big step for you!

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Yes?”

“Yes!”

With a shout of joy, I scoop her up and swing her around. The dogs start barking and jump up at us with tails wagging, eager to join in the fun. She’s giggling, but suddenly she winces.


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