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Nina cuts the hydrangea stems, shooting me a glance. “He said the flowers are for you, ma’am.”
For me? I vaguely remember him telling me that when I hurled the vase of delphiniums at him my first morning at his penthouse. At the time, I thought he was just trying to make me feel guilty, or distract me from my rage.
“Nina.” My tone is hesitant. “Has Dimitri always had fresh flowers around this place? Or maybe his uncle did?”
She glances at me like I must be joking. “No offense, but neither of them are the flower type. No, it’s only since he came home with you that he’s insisted on the floral arrangements, saying that you like them, and to change them out regularly.”
It’s true, I do like them. At my parents house I always had a vase of flowers in my room, refreshed each week. But they weren’t always blue, I love all colors, so that part is particular to Dimitri.
I wonder what it means.
More importantly, was Dimitri looking in my bedroom window? I wouldn’t put it past him.
CHAPTER 20
Arianna
Groggy from sleep, I stumble to the bathroom and relieve the pressure in my bladder. My half-awake mind immediately drifts to work as I sit on the toilet. This past week has shown me exactly what Tarina meant when she said two of my co-workers combined were barely doing the work of one person.
Shantel is great to work with, but Ben and Charlotte seem to always mess up their tasks. Tarina has to come in and fix it. Honestly, I’m not sure why she doesn’t fire those two.
I step out of the toilet room, and instantly freeze. The shower is running. On the other side of the steamy glass, Dimitri fists his erection and groans, his head tilting back. The sight is so unexpected, and erotic, that I can’t tear my eyes away as he strokes his cock, slowly at first, the building up speed.
“Arianna,” he groans my name. I startle, thinking he’s spotted me, but then he moans. “Fuck.”
Oh my god, he doesn’t realize I’m here, watching him. I’m intruding on a very private moment. But my feet may as well be glued to the floor, they refuse to move.
He moans my name again, and a wave of satisfaction rushes through me, knowing that I’m the reason he’s masturbating, that I’m the woman he’s thinking of right now.
That satisfaction is quickly replaced with horror. I most certainly don’t want?—
Dimitri’s free palm lands against the glass, smearing a section clean, and I can more clearly see his face. Eyes closed, brows furrowed, and lips parted. He looks sexy as hell. He groans, and heat shoots straight between my thighs. I swear I might come just from watching him.
With a curse, his body jerks, and his eyes snap open. He’s staring straight at me. My knees are weak, like they might give out any moment. Then he smirks. That slow, sensuous smile curls his lips, and I immediately know he knew I’ve been here the whole time.
He’s teasing me. Tempting me.
“Like what you see, kisa?” His voice is still thick with sleep. “Do you want to join me here?”
Finally, I snap out of my daze and glare at him. But words fail me.
Unable to think of anything better to do, I bolt from the bathroom.
Annoyingly, Dimitri seems unaffected by our encounter in the bathroom, while I spend the next few days unable to stop remembering every detail of the incident. Each time I do, I have the shameful urge to touch myself. God, what is this man doing to me? It’s completely unfair.
It’s like his touch has awakened a need in my body that I never knew was there before. When I’m not feeling ashamed about it, I’m frustrated and needy. Several nights now, I’ve been tempted to roll over and do what he wants—beg him to touch me.
Thankfully, my pride won’t let me.
Giving in is not an option. I’m still waiting for the opportunity to escape, and it better come soon because I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. Not when he’s playing this dirty.
This afternoon I’m returning from an errand Tarina sent me on, when I run into Dimitri in the library. Speak of the Devil…
He’s wearing a black T-shirt and dark wash jeans with boots. His unruly hair is a little messier than usual, giving him an extremely sexy vibe. It’s completely unfair. Why couldn’t he be ugly, or smelly, or completely vile? Why does he have to be… well, himself? The man who’s driving me absolutely out of my mind.
The slow grin on his lips says it all. He knows exactly how he affects me.
“I have something for you,” he says, prowling closer.
