Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74291 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Roman stares at me for another moment, then brings my wrists up to his mouth and kisses the inside of each one before letting them go. I feel one of his hands petting my hair and a second later, his voice is at my ear. “Very good, pet. You just earned one reward.”
I have no idea what that means. I just remain silent. Words are beyond me right now. I never knew kisses like that existed and the fact that I just shared one with Roman is yet another reason to be terrified of what I’m doing. Paul is going to kill me.
Chapter Eleven
Roman
I take Ana into my house and sit on the sofa with her. I keep her in my lap. My hands pet her hair and her arms, getting her used to my touch, training her to need it. She doesn’t try to get off my lap, but she starts looking around the room. I watch her face as she takes it all in, wanting to judge her reaction. She doesn’t know it, but she’s the first woman besides my employees that I’ve allowed through the doors. Then again, something tells me that Ana will be special, otherwise I wouldn’t be pursuing her this hard.
“Do you like it?” I ask, looking around the room and trying to see it from her eyes. I never thought about it really. I hired Miami’s premiere design company to decorate. There’s a lot of white with large splashes of turquoise and orange and lime greens, all colors associated with the beach and life in Miami, or so my decorator said—something about the colors being warm and vibrant. To be honest I never really cared. Now I wonder if it falls short in Ana’s eyes. I’d like to know her thoughts.
“It’s nice.”
That’s it. I may have not had other women here, but instinctively I know they would have noticed the designer’s handiwork. They would have seen the top-of-the-line furnishings and expensive paintings and had dollar signs in their eyes. Ana’s eyes are not like that. In fact, I get the feeling she doesn’t like the house at all and is trying to be nice. I don’t normally smile, but that thought has me doing so now. I have to wonder if this is the first of Ana’s surprises for the night.
I stand up and slowly let her go to the floor. She takes a breath as her feet hit the floor, but I still keep her wrapped up in my arms, not wanting to let her go completely yet. Her hands brace on my shoulders as she takes off her high heels. I’m not sure what she thinks she would hurt or why she’s bothering. I’ve never met a woman who has taken her shoes off unless they were stripping for me and a lot of those times they leave their shoes on. Being barefoot obviously feels better. Does she feel that comfortable with me? I make note to have thick carpet installed if this works out. That way, her feet can stay warm.
I lead her down the hall towards the master bedroom. I keep it on the main floor and reserve the upstairs for guest rooms, which are never used. I don’t want guests. Ever. Ana is the only one I will break that rule for.
Ana freezes at the entrance. Inside is a large king-size four-poster bed, a large television hanging on the wall and a low line sleek black dresser with matching nightstands. It has a sitting area off to the left of the bed and then behind that is an open master bath with a sunken tub and large steam shower.
“A problem, Pet?”
“Is … Is this the bedroom you want me to stay in?” she says, trying to back away.
“This is my bedroom.”
“I’ll just wait for you outside then. Or you could tell me where your guest room is.”
“You’ll be staying here with me, Ana.”
“I don’t think so.”
I ignore her comment and apply more pressure at her back to get her moving. Her eyes are focused on the bed. I wonder if, like me, she is imagining being tied to it later. I’m biding my time until I can do that very thing. There’s never been a woman in this bed. I’ve never wanted one. But I’m making another exception and it’s for the same reason. Ana.
“Have you eaten?” I ask her, pulling my shirt off.
“What? Umm … no, I guess I haven’t.”
“Good. I’ll have the cook heat up dinner for us.”
“You do realize it’s three a.m.,” she says, as I pick up the phone and inform the kitchen staff what I want.
“I don’t keep regular hours, Ana. I pay my staff enough to reflect that and reward them for understanding. I’m going to take a shower while dinner is getting heated. I’ll just be a few minutes. Unless you’d like to join me?” I ask her, putting my shirt on the bed.