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The rest of the drawers contained folded t-shirts with designer labels and pairs of equally expensive jeans.
Glancing down at my filthy feet, I wondered whether footwear had been included in the wardrobe transplant. Back in the closet, I found six boxes of shoes—ranging from street shoes to Louboutins. I pulled out the pair of LBs. They were open-toe pumps with a heart-shaped heel detail and a sky-high hundred-millimeter heel. The inside of the footbed had cartoon-style pin-up girls in skimpy lingerie—all done on a red background the same color as the soles.
Fuck, these shoes had to be worth over a thousand dollars in the States. I placed them back into their box, then slid on the lid.
I stood there—stunned—for a moment before deciding that I had to dosomething. I was still a mess from the earlier vomiting incident, and if I was going out tonight, I needed to at least put in some effort.
I opened the door of the en suite bathroom, and I could only describe it in one word… luscious. The white marble was veined with gold like the builder or designer had wanted to inject some sort of color or personality into the space. The walk-in shower had dual rain shower heads, with a double vanity and built-in medicine cabinets. I checked behind one and found a toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, and mouth wash. Inside one of the drawers in the vanity was an array of different hair brushes, as well as a case of Mac cosmetics.
Shaking my head, I turned on the faucets in the shower and was stunned to feel that the temperature was almost perfect right away. Stepping away, I stripped out of the oversized t-shirt, then hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the panties. I shimmied out of them, leaving the scrap of fabric on top of the shirt.
I turned but paused when I caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked washed out, and with hair the color of mine, looking washed out meant my skin had a blueish tinge to it. Already pale skin mixed with nausea and vomiting equaled an ethereal specter.
Getting into the shower, I ducked my head under the spray and let the water wash away all the dirt and grime of the last however long. I had no idea how long it had been since I was taken, but it couldn’t have been any longer than twenty-four hours—more than likely a lot less than that.
I brushed my teeth and flossed, all while the water beat down on me from above. The pressure was sublime, easing away aches in my shoulders and back that I hadn’t realized I had. I could only blame it on being laid out unconscious for long periods of time.
Rinsing out my mouth, I tipped my head back and soaked through my hair once more. Wiping the water from my eyes, I scanned the in-built shelf in front of me and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. Squeezing a quarter-sized amount into my palm, I lathered up my hair and rinsed. After I put the conditioner in to sit, I washed and scrubbed until my skin was pink, then did the final rinse of my hair.
When I stepped from the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel, then grabbed another for my hair. A waft of sandalwood-scented steam filled the spacious bathroom, and I tried not to think about how Grayson smelled exactly the same.
After drying off, I padded back into the bedroom and opened the closet. I suspected it would be cold outside, so I selected a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and a soft gray bralette top to wear under a chunky white sweater.
Pulling open the top drawer, I scanned the contents and decided on a lace triangle bra in pale violet and a matching set of sheer Brazilian panties. As I leaned forward to secure the bra, I wondered who had decided on the different sets. Had they sent another woman to do the shopping, or had a man selected everything. Judging by how transparent and skimpy they were, I was betting on a man.
My mind made the leap that maybe Grayson had been the one to purchase everything in my wardrobe, but I dismissed it immediately. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would do such a thing.
Once I had the bra and panties in place, I stepped into the jeans and secured the bralette top.
Unwinding the towel from my head, I ran my fingers through it before opening the bottom cupboards in the bathroom in search of a hair dryer.
I found one along with a hair straightener.
Both devices went onto the marble counter, and I began drying then straightening my hair. When I was finished, my platinum hair looked like a sheet of satin falling down my back. A lot of people thought I got the color of my hair from a bottle, but after seeing my mom, I knew I’d gotten it from her.
Switching off and unplugging the dryer and straightener, I pulled out the cosmetics and applied a light base, highlighted my sharp cheekbones, and applied a smoky eye to make the color of my eyes pop.
By the time I was done, I looked and felt more like myself again. Exiting the bathroom, I walked back down the hallway, drawing to an abrupt stop, when I saw Grayson leaning a hip against the kitchen counter with his arms folded and his blue eyes dark with lust.
SEVEN
GRAYSON
Keepyour eyes off her fucking legs, you goddamn cocksucker!
Even though I’d told myself this before, it was worth repeating. My gaze shifted to her face for a moment before going back to trace her body, starting at her bare feet and working their way up. She’d slipped into one of the pairs of jeans I’d picked out for her, along with an oversized cream sweater. The sheer bulk of the sweater made her already small frame look smaller, but I fucking liked that. I liked it when a woman was smaller than I was. It called to something primal within me—some urge to protect at all costs.
When I got to her chest, I wondered whether she had on one of the lingerie sets I’d bought. Yeah, I bet she fucking did.
As soon as that thought registered, though, I shoved it away. I was not supposed to be mentally undressing my boss’s future wife.
Her hair had been straightened, and as she moved, I caught the scent of the expensive shampoo that I’d left in the bathroom.
I must’ve been staring too long, though, because she folded her arms and glared at me.
“You got a problem with what I’m wearing?” she asked.
“No.” I’d showered and changed too, and judging by the way her eyes had roved my body when she stepped into the room, she liked what she saw.
