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Within a month.It’s not that much time to get him to change his mind, or to escape.“Will I have input into the date?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “The timing will be based on several factors that are out of either of our hands. You’re welcome to work with the wedding planner, as long as you stay within the parameters I set. Her name is Nelia. We can set up a conference call with her, or a video chat.”
I couldn’t care less what food and beverages are served, or whether the flowers are fresh or dried, but I’ll need to engage in the process if I expect him to believe I’ve come to terms with the arrangement.
A month. Maybe less. There’s no time to waste. You need to accelerate the plan. You can’t wait to signal you’re willing for the relationship to become physical.
Maybe.What have I got to lose?Aside from your dignity?
I push away the nagging voice, pick up my wineglass, and smile at Antonio over the rim. It’s my best attempt at flirting. But it’s more awkward than sultry, and I feel my cheeks warm.
Before I can continue the embarrassing attempt at a femme fatale act, Victor brings in a tray with espresso and flan, along with a small bowl of almonds, chocolate truffles, and a large bunch of deep-purple grapes.
“Dinner was delicious,” I gush as he prepares the table for dessert.
“Thank you,” he beams, almost sheepishly. “Paula has prepared your room for the night. Is there anything else you need before I give her permission to retire?”
“No, Victor. Thank you. Please tell her I don’t need her first thing in the morning if she has things to do. I’ll come down for breakfast.”
He flashes me a warm smile. “I’ll prepare you something special.”
“You don’t—”
“Indulge an old man. It’s my pleasure to cook for you.”
Antonio takes in the conversation but doesn’t offer a kind word of his own. He also doesn’t tell Victor that he won’t be needing him again this evening.
My mother taught me that a measure of a person is how they treat those around them who have less—less money, less power, less authority. This is especially true of staff, particularly inside staff, who are privy to intimate details of family life, and all the secrets.
What kind of person would be so callous as to punish an older gentleman, who has been with his family since he was a boy, in order to teach me a lesson?
The irritation is bubbling inside, but I hold my tongue—for now.
“Good evening.” Victor nods and leaves the room.
“Would it have been so terrible to tell him to leave the dishes for tomorrow?” I ask after Victor closes the door behind him.
Antonio stares at me for several seconds, as if deciding whether to share his thoughts, which I’m sure will include a lecture about minding my own business.
“The kitchen and the house are within Victor’s purview,” Antonio begins cautiously. “He knows what I like and what I won’t tolerate. Otherwise, he’s free to do as he pleases. I don’t interfere with how he does his job. If he wants to leave the dishes for tomorrow, he will. You don’t need to worry about Victor’s beauty sleep.”
My mouth falls open while he speaks. “So thatuntil every dish is washed and put awaywas for my benefit? Just to torment me?”
“For the most part. You’re quite beautiful when you’re tormented. Flushed and vulnerable. I like it so much, it makes me want to torture you more often.”
As much as I hate to admit it, the spark in his eyes makes my nipples bead.
“That’s twisted.” My voice is breathless—sultry—and genuine. It’s not at all part of any contrived scheme to seduce him.
“You have no idea how twisted I can be,Princesa.”
21
Daniela
Every nerve in my body tingles at his voice—or maybe it’s the predatory gaze that has me on alert. I’m not sure if he’s warning me, or if it’s a threat, or something else. Whatever it is, it’s not innocuous. That I do know.
I should be wary of a man who thinks I’m beautiful when tormented, but there’s something about his smooth, husky voice that’s alluring. I don’t think the torture he’s referring to is the kind reserved for terrorists. It sounds dark and dangerous, although not lethal, but raw and primal—filled with the promise of pleasure.Twisted pleasure. The kind I’ve fantasized about—with him.
