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He wouldn’t look at the messages, would he?
No, it had to be dead by now.
Was he home? Would he come to her bed? Why did she need him so much?
It was so freaking annoying. She’d been on her own for ages. She could take care of herself.
Sleeping on her own in a bed that was too big with luxurious sheets wouldn’t get the best of her.
And yet, she found herself wandering down the passage in his shirt toward his office. It was the same shirt as last night. She hadn’t had a chance to steal another one since Bernard had followed her around all day.
Honestly, if she even knew how to get into Alejandro’s office, she wouldn’t have had a chance with Doomy Gloomy stalking her.
Reaching his office, she took a deep breath and knocked.
Maybe he wasn’t home. What if his office was unlocked? Could she walk in?
What was she really expecting to find? A piece of paper with information about her dad’s death on it?
Idiot.
“Come in.”
She let out a deep sigh, something settling inside her.
This was so crazy.
But she walked in to find him sitting behind his desk. He had a glass of Scotch in his hand.
She walked over to stand across from him, noting the frown on his face.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
She shifted from foot to foot. What was going on? Why did he look . . . strange?
“I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t sure if you were home.” That was as close as she could come to admitting that she missed him.
That she couldn’t sleep without him.
So silly.
He glanced up at her. “You look tired.”
“Oh, well, I’m fine.”
“You didn’t nap.”
Crap.
“I might have.”
“Do not lie to me. Remember what that will get you,” he warned in a low voice that had her shivering.
Her butt cheeks clenched.
“How do you know I didn’t nap?” she asked.
“You still have dark marks under your eyes. I dislike that immensely.”
Shoot. Did she look that bad?
“I’ve never learned how to put on make-up,” she muttered, half to herself. “I suppose I could learn if I look that awful. I—”
“Stop,” he said sharply, slapping his hand on the desk and making her jump.
She stared at him with wide eyes. What had she done?
“I didn’t say you needed make-up. And you don’t look awful.”
“But you said you didn’t like the marks under my eyes.”
“Because they’re a sign that I’m not looking after you properly.” He studied her intently.
“I know you feel like you need to take care of me while I’m here, but I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“You can, huh? What did you have for lunch?”
Well, hell.
“Bread and butter.”
“If you don’t eat better, you’re going to get sick. If you don’t sleep more, you’ll get sick. If you keep living in a drafty, rundown apartment, then you’ll—”
“Get sick.”
“Good. So we’re in agreement.”
“Wait. What? That wasn’t me agreeing with you.” She glared at him. “You’re tricky, mister.”
He gave her a slight smirk.
Smart. He was smart.
“Come here, Cat. There’s something I have to tell you.” He slid his chair back and patted his lap.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Can’t you tell me while I stand here?”
“Nope.” He took a sip of his drink. “Come. Here.” He crooked a finger at her.
So arrogant.
Yet, she found her feet moving toward him.
“Darn feet,” she muttered as she grew close to him. “Never doing what I tell them to.”
He raised his eyebrows as he grasped hold of her hips and lifted her onto his lap so she was facing him. Then he turned his chair so she was sandwiched between him and his large wooden desk.
“Perhaps your feet just know who is in charge.”
“Pfft. And I suppose that’s you?”
“Good to see you know that.”
“No! Wait, I wasn’t agreeing that you’re in charge.”
“Pequeña, we both know I am.”
Shoot. She couldn’t argue that.
“Your ego is bigger than Rhode Island.”
“Only Rhode Island?” he asked.
Lord help her.
He ran his finger over her cheek and down her neck to the first button. “Did you order yourself some pajamas?”
“No.”
“Good. I like you wearing my shirt. This is all you’re allowed to wear to bed from now on. No panties. Do you have panties on now?”
What the heck? “Yes! Of course I do!”
He clicked his tongue. “That’s disappointing. We’ll need to take care of that.” Reaching behind her he searched through a drawer and drew out some scissors.
“You are not cutting my panties off me!” she cried out. “I only have two pairs.”
He frowned. “Didn’t you order more?”
“No.”
He set the scissors down. “Did you order anything?”
She bit her lip.
Sitting back, he ran his finger over his lower lip. Then he picked up the glass of Scotch and took a sip. “So you didn’t play with the toys I bought you, and you didn’t buy anything with the credit card I left. Did you at least see the clothes in the closet? I bought them for you. I admit I forgot about panties.”
