AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Um, my neighbor, Mrs. Dalca. She's a total cat whisperer, swears she was a feline in her past life," I reply, still slightly taken aback by his direct approach.
Without missing a beat, Ivan finds Mrs. Dalca's number and dials it.
"Mrs. Dalca? Hello, this is Ivan Stepanov, Julie's husband," he says. "We've had an unexpected trip come up, and we were wondering if you could take care of Kiki for the week."
He listens for a moment, then a small smile plays on his lips. "Yes, Bora Bora," he confirms, as if it's the most normal thing in the world to jet off to an exotic location at a moment's notice. “Much appreciated. And don’t worry, you’ll be well compensated. Yes, thank you.”
I watch him handle the situation with an ease that's both infuriating and impressive. The way he takes charge, solving problems with a phone call, is classic Ivan. And as much as I want to be annoyed with him for invading my personal space, I can't help but feel a twinge of gratitude, and maybe something else.
"Everything's taken care of," he says, handing back my phone. "Mrs. Dalca will look after Kiki. And as for your wardrobe," he continues, turning to face me, his dark eyes locking with mine, "I've arranged for a personal shopper to meet us at the hotel. They'll provide everything you need for the week."
My mouth is suddenly dry, and the close confines of the car appear to be closing in, his presence seemingly filling up the space. "You what?" I manage to stammer, my brain struggling to keep up. "A personal shopper?"
He nods, the corners of his mouth lifting in a half-smile that's infuriatingly sexy. "Of course. I wouldn't expect you to go unprepared."
As Ivan smoothly continues, explaining how everything has been taken care of, I find myself oscillating between irritation and awe. "Fyodor walked Barb to her car, just to let her know what's going on. Between him and Barb, everything at home will be taken care of," he says, his voice calm and reassuring.
I'm still trying to process this whirlwind of organization and consideration. Part of me, the part that likes to be in control, to make my own decisions, is irked. I'm not used to having choices made for me, having my life neatly planned out by someone else, even if it is just for a week.
It feels like I'm being swept along by a current I can't control, one that's both exhilarating and unnerving.
But then there's the other part of me, the part that's secretly thrilled by this grand gesture. No one has ever surprised me like this, whisked me away to a tropical paradise on a whim. It's like something out of a movie, and I can't help but feel a rush of excitement, a giddy anticipation for what lies ahead.
"Thank you, Ivan," I say, my voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. "I've never been to Bora Bora. Actually, I've never been anywhere like it. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been out of the city."
He turns to me, his expression softening ever so slightly. "From now on, you can go anywhere you like," he tells me, and there's a sincerity in his voice that catches me off guard.
Leaning back in the plush seat, I take another sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling my nose. The lightheaded feeling isn't just from the alcohol; it's also from the excitement of what lies ahead and how different my life is about to become.
Growing up, Barb and I were never destitute, but we certainly weren't jet-setting around the world. Barb's art was beautiful, but it wasn't until my high school years that her pieces started selling for the kind of money that changed things for us. Our trips were always within driving distance, modest adventures that were rich in adventure and fun, but not in luxury.
Now I am in a limousine with Ivan, heading to an airport where a private plane awaits to take us to one of the most beautiful places on earth. It's overwhelming; a complete juxtaposition to the life I've known.
The moment I step onto the company plane, my excitement goes to another level. It's like stepping into the pages of a glossy, high-end travel magazine.
The interior is a masterclass in luxury and elegance—plush, leather seats that look more comfortable than my couch at home, glossy wood panels, and soft, ambient lighting that creates a serene atmosphere. It's spacious, more so than any plane I've ever been on, with a seating area that resembles a chic, high-end lounge.
"I didn't think I’d ever be a passenger on the company plane," I say as I roam around, touching the soft leather, admiring the sleek design, every detail perfect and luxurious.
Ivan watches me with a small, knowing smile. "There are many things about the company you're yet to experience," he replies, his voice laced with amusement.
As I continue to explore, a team of impeccably dressed staff bustles around us, efficiently packing our things into the storage compartments and ensuring we're comfortably situated. They move with precision and grace, making the whole process seem effortless.
Once we're airborne, the gentle hum of the engines creates a soothing backdrop. "The flight is quite long. Feel free to take a nap or watch television if you like.” Ivan sweeps his hand toward the interior as he speaks.
Then he nods at a door at the other end of the cabin. "There's a bed through there," he adds casually. “If you need a rest.”
A bed. On the plane. My insides do more than quake; they do a full-blown salsa dance. The idea of a bed in this confined space with Ivan sends my imagination into overdrive. It's both terrifying and tantalizing, a forbidden thought that I can't seem to push away. Technically speaking, not really forbidden anymore, though, is it?
I nod, trying to appear nonchalant, but inside, I'm a whirlwind of nerves and excitement. "Thanks, I might just do that," I say, my voice a little too high-pitched.
I settle into one of the luxurious seats, trying to focus on the TV screen in front of me. But my mind keeps wandering back to that door, to what lies beyond it. The thought of lying in that bed, the soft sheets, the quiet hum of the plane... Ivan, just a few steps away.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the flurry of thoughts and emotions swirling inside me. This is all new territory, uncharted waters that I'm navigating without a map.
The champagne and the gentle hum of the plane have me feeling bolder than usual. As I stand to walk past Ivan, I make sure my hip brushes his shoulder ever so slightly. It's a small, deliberate gesture, a silent acknowledgment of the sexual tension that's been simmering between us.
Ivan's reaction is immediate. His hand shoots out, catching mine, halting my movement. Our eyes lock, his gaze intense and questioning. "Did you do that on purpose?" he asks, his voice low, a hint of anticipation lacing his words.
