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Chapter Seven
The days Daria spentwith Nik eventually fell into a routine. Mondays, he would leave early from work, arriving at her apartment right after lunch. So far, they still hadn’t been able to make it to the bedroom. They almost made it last week – Daria’s back was against the bedroom door, both of them still fully clothed. Mondays were always spent entirely in her apartment. She would have groceries delivered, and both of them took turns cooking. If they weren’t making love, they were either talking or doing something together.
Fridays, Nik skipped work completely, joining Daria as early as breakfast. Fridays were like date nights, only they lasted twenty-four hours, and they were always surprises. One night, they had gone club hopping, another day they had played tourists in Staten Island. They had attended a museum auction to buy artwork for his home, gone around Central Park in a carriage, and enjoyed a popular Broadway play with front-row seats.
Daria never spoke of the past when they were together. Nik never said goodbye when he left. And in the seven weeks she had been his mistress, Nik had demanded her presence outside of their scheduled days only once.
He had wanted her to accompany him in his flight to Europe. The moment she had boarded his private jet, Nik wordlessly took her to his cabin, and Daria earned her mile-high club entry that night. Only when Nik had gone and left her alone in the jet had she realized with mortification that the noise they made – her cries and the thump of furniture against the cabin’s thin walls – would have made what they were doing obvious to anyone who could hear it.
And since she had been pretty sure the whole crew heard them, Daria had desperately avoided everyone’s gazes the entire flight back.
Remembering the incident made Daria sigh now. Their arrangement wasn’t perfect, she knew, but she was also aware that she hadn’t been this happy since the days she had spent with Nik on the island.
Sighing again, Daria padded towards her desk and pulled the main drawer open. Taking a seat, she rummaged through the magazines and sketchpads until she found her calendar. It was custom-designed, with only Mondays and Fridays to make the waiting more bearable whenever Nik wasn’t with her.
As she slashed a red X on the eighth Monday, Daria heard the door open as Nik stepped out of the shower. She hastily put the calendar back inside her drawer and took out her sketchpad, pretending to be busy.
“You’re going to work at this hour?” Nik was surprised. She had never worked while they were together.
“Umm, yeah. I need to give this to the printer tomorrow.” She flipped the sketchpad open to a blank page. “Do you mind?” She expected Nik to simply shake his head and leave her be. Except for that one time in the island, Nik hadn’t bothered asking her about her work again.
But instead, she saw Nik reach for the stool from the dresser and, pulling it closer towards the desk, lowered himself on it. “Mind if I watch you?”
Daria blinked. “You want to watch me work?”
“That is what I said,” he answered dryly.
“Why?” she blurted out.
He shrugged.
“Are you sure you won’t be bored?”
“I doubt it.”
Realizing that was all she was going to get, she mumbled, “Up to you.” Pulling the smaller drawer open, she took out her pencils and paints and started to draw.
Nik quietly watched Daria work, and as her drawing came to life, it was obvious that she had also started to forget Nik and her surroundings. Her face was a picture of concentration, with her brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, and lips slightly parted.
Daria was just working, Nik thought broodingly. Just Daria moving her damn pencil on paper. She wasn’t the first artist he had seen working either, so why the hell couldn’t he take his eyes off her?
When Daria looked up, her neck and fingers were aching. A glance at the alarm clock on her desk told her it was already one in the morning. She had been drawing for almost an hour.
She quickly looked behind her and was startled to find Nik still there. Startled and pleased, but by now she knew better than to let him know that.
Putting her pencil down, she asked, “Do you work at home, too?”
“Yes.”
She made a face. “You’ve got communication issues, do you know? I mean, really.”
Nik rolled his eyes. “Preferring to answer a question with yes or no is your definition of a communication issue? Really?” He mimicked her tone with the last word.
Daria giggled, caught by surprise by Nik’s rare display of humor.
Seeing that she was still rubbing her neck and hating the sight of her in pain, Nik came to his feet and took her hand away. He started kneading her neck, almost smiling when Daria moaned in pleasure.
Daria closed her eyes as she surrendered herself to the pleasure of Nik’s touch. “What kind of work do you do at home?”
