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“It was fifteen years ago.” I don’t know why I’m telling her about my personal life.
She shoves the paintbrushes into a holder, then glances at me. “It’s tragic. No one should lose the love of their life at such a young age. I’m really sorry.”
I can see she means the words, and because this is the first real conversation we’re having, I admit, “Anja wasn’t the love of my life.”
Abigail’s eyes search mine, then she frowns. “Was it an arranged marriage?”
I shake my head. “It was Anja’s dying wish. She loved me.”
Abigail’s lips part, and a look of wonder washes over her features. “You married her just to make her dream come true?”
Why the hell am I telling her this?
Reluctantly I nod.
The corner of her mouth lifts, then she mutters, “Wow, and here I thought you didn’t have a heart.”
She continues to pack her things, and when she shrugs the bag over her shoulder and takes hold of the easel and canvas, she grins at me. “Is this your way of telling me you like when I flirt with you?”
I can’t keep the corner of my mouth from curving up. “Don’t push your luck, little girl.”
She starts to walk, and when she passes by me, her voice is low and seductive as she purrs, “Yes,Daddy.”
I close my eyes as the impact of the sinful whisper hits.
While I harden at the speed of light and my muscles tense, so I don’t grab the woman and fuck her senseless, Abigail pauses to ask, “Do you give private lessons?”
I clear my throat before I answer, “No.” Turning to face her, I’m fully aware if she looks down, she’ll see my hard-on. “Why are you asking?”
“Some of the guys here are giving me the creeps. I just want to be able to defend myself.”
My eyes narrow on her beautiful face. “Which guys?”
She shakes her head and starts to walk again. “Don’t worry about it.”
It only takes me a couple of steps to catch up to her, and when I take the easel from her, I say, “I have an hour before dinner.”
Abigail glances up at me, and this time a breathtaking smile curves her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Vetrov. I appreciate you making time to train me.”
I prefer ‘Daddy.’
God, I’m not right in the head, and it’s this vixen’s fault.
Not saying another fucking word, I carry the easel to Abigail’s suite and follow her into the room.
The scent of her perfume hangs in the air, and I notice two other paintings standing near the windows.
As I set the easel down, I ask, “Do you only paint nature scenes?”
“No. I paint whatever I feel like.”
“We need to discuss payment for the private lessons.”
A mischievous grin spreads over her face as she places the canvas on the easel. “Oooh, I like where this is going.”
“I want a painting.”
Surprise flutters over her face. “Oh.”
