AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She looks over her shoulder at me, disappointment on her face, and it makes me chuckle.
“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll act out that fantasy another time. I don’t want you too sore.”
I head up to my bedroom to change, giving her some privacy down here, even though privacy seems like such a non-necessity between us already. I wait in the foyer for her, showing her to the kitchen.
“This is stunning.” She glances around the large kitchen, running her hand over the marble countertops. “This island is bigger than your car.”
“I had the marble brought in from Italy when I redid the kitchen. Sorry,” I say almost immediately. “That sounded really gauche.”
“Not at all. I just didn’t expect such an elegant yet cozy space. Fits the house perfectly.”
I pull out her chair at the island. “I hope it’s okay we’re eating here instead of the dining room. Rather large and cold in there.”
“I usually eat on my couch so this is a major step up.” She smiles, then reaches for the cloche over her plate, removing it to reveal a beautifully cooked fillet mignon. “Oh my God.” Her eyes roll back in her head as she inhales. “Did you hear my stomach?”
“Steak is a good choice then?”
“Yes. I only had steak on very rare and fancy occasions growing up so it feels pretty special to be eating it on a random Thursday night.”
We dig in to the food. It’s always top-tier when Ricardo is cooking. I have him on staff, although it’s not a nightly occurrence that he cooks for me, usually a few nights a week. I can manage to feed myself the other nights or I’m at work dinners. Her comment makes me wonder about her life before now.
“You’re not originally from Chicago, correct? Illinois though?”
“Mm-hmm.” She nods, chewing her food. “I grew up about three hours directly south of the city. Really small town, middle of nowhere.”
“And the rest of your family is still there?”
“Yeah, my mom and dad. I’m an only child; they had me a bit later in life.”
“Are you close to them?”
She shrugs. “I am but they’re not happy I’m living in Chicago. It’s hard to explain. They want me to be happy, I truly believe that, but they’re worried. They’ve lived their entire life in a small town, believing that the city is crazy dangerous and I get it. Being that I’m their only child and they tried for a decade before they got pregnant with me, they’re terrified to lose me.”
“I can understand that,” I say between bites of food. “Do you go home often?”
“Not as much as I should. I spent the holidays with them, always do. When I do go home, they kind of scold me and tell me to save my money instead of renting a car and driving down to see them.” She laughs and rolls her eyes, reaching for her wine. “What about you? Do you have family in the Chicago area?”
Unease grips my stomach. I don’t like talking about my family. “I don’t actually. Only child, both parents are deceased.” I leave it at that, hoping she gets the hint that I don’t want to discuss it.
“Oh my God.” She reaches her hand over, placing it on mine. Her eyes are full of pity, a look I hate, to be honest. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” I turn my attention back to my food, shrugging her hand off mine. I see her studying me out of the corner of my eye and I’m guessing she picked up on my discomfort.
“Well, I’m pretty full. I have a question though. Any chance you would want to give me a tour of your house? I’ve seen this place for years, never knew anyone actually lived here.”
I swallow down my last bite, tossing my napkin onto the countertop. “I’d be happy to.” I stand, extending my hand out toward her.
I walk her from room to room, explaining the purpose followed most of the time with, “But I don’t even use this room.”
“You know, you kind of remind me of Bruce Wayne, all hidden away in your mansion with just Wes at your side, surrounded by your solitude. Are you a caped crusader at night as well, Mr. Gates? Rescuing the city and damsels in distress?”
“If I was,” I say, placing my hands on her shoulders to turn her, “I wouldn’t be able to tell you, now would I?”
“I’d like to think I get special dispensation, you know, as your current flavor of the month.” She reaches her hand out, pressing it against my chest and slowly dragging it downward.
“Flavor of the month?” I reach around to pinch her ass. “Watch what you say, Miss James.” I grab her hand from where it rests on my belly and pull her along toward the main staircase.
We wind our way upstairs, looking into guest rooms and bathrooms. I can feel excitement curling in my stomach as we inch closer to my bedroom. The thought of Presley James in my personal space is alluring, like I’m giving her some insight into my private world. Mostly because—I am. I’ve never brought a woman home to this bedroom.
