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“Oh.”
I feel a surge of disappointment running through my throat down to my stomach. I try to keep my face brave, but those invisible goblins of sadness jump on my cheeks, pushing my fake smile to a genuine frown. Ethan Knight is not even looking at me as he says the words.
“The simple natural fact is that we are very attracted to each other.” His tone is dismissive as if attraction were an inconvenience. He continues in the same tone. “And we should accept the fact that we can’t let this chance go. So, we need to spend more time together.”
Wait what!
He is saying the right things, but his tone is so formal almost like he is dealing with an issue at the office. Is that what I am? An issue? Does this happen often with other women?
“You sound so logical about all this. Almost clinical.” I try to tame the accusation in my voice.
He looks at me this time with a seriousness that alerts my senses. His handsome face is pensive.
“I have to be for both of our sakes. I am not going to throw stones in the dark about this Brooke. Last night was the best night of my life. The last thing I need to be is emotional about it.”
“What?” I am truly confused.
I love that last night meant something to him but why take emotion out of it?
“What?” He echoes my confusion and appears to be sincerely puzzled.
“Ethan Knight, is this how the rich express their feelings? Like some financial news channel?” I then place my hands on my waist and pretend to be a news anchor. “And this morning on Financial News, Ethan and Brooke made love. Will they continue to see each other? We will leave that to the analysis.” The bed sheet falls off my body exposing my naked heaving breasts. Obviously, I have turned red down my neck, and he can see I am getting worked up. I pick up the bedsheet and awkwardly cover myself again.
“Look, Brooke, in my world things move fast. I need to trust you. And you will have to trust me.”
I am looking at him clutching the white sheet covering my body, probably looking clueless. His face acknowledges my predicament. “Okay, you know what Brooke, there is a quick breakfast waiting for you and you need to get morning ready for a very important meeting.”
“So that’s it, huh? You screwed me last night and now you’ll send me away to some meeting after feeding me a muffin.”
“What? Good God no Brooke.” He throws his head back in laughter, managing to look handsome in the process even though I am not liking him right now. He finally returns to a forced seriousness. He does make things clear. “I need you in the meeting with me.”
I have misjudged the situation.
“That sounds much better.” I sound like an idiot.
He starts to laugh, walking up to me, he kisses me on my cheek. “You are, as you Americans would say, toocute! And I would never leave you out there with a muffin in hand. That’s just uncivilized.”
Clearly there is a communication gap, and I am feeling a little embarrassed. Is this a class gap, where I am not getting how billionaires talk after a night of passion? Or is this a cultural thing? We plain talking Americans vs the Mysterious English?
“Okay,” I try to keep my voice neutral, free of emotion. “I am going to take a shower and have that breakfast and then we are going to talk like human beings.”
He points at me like I made a good point, as if he is chairing a meeting.
What the hell is up with this gorgeous freak?
“And Brooke, there will be a staff member here…she will help get you morning ready and with your clothing and all that. I will see you on the balcony for that quick breakfast.”
Help me get morning ready?
I am not even going to attempt to argue. I am clearly out of my depth here. I am not going to freak out about thismorning readynonsense. I have entered a world that has its own language. I want him to always be Mr. Hawaii, but he confuses me with his almost cold logical style. And yet he says the sweetest things in the voice of a news announcer. I walk into the bathroom with these thoughts clouding my mind. I empty myself, freshen up and wonder at the luxuriousness of this bathroom area. It is massive, the tiles are heated, the faucets are heavy silver and copper. The shower falls like hot healing ropes of water, and I let it flow all over me. The massage of hot steamy water is waking me up to the new reality that I have to face. There is no going back after last night.
I hear a knock on the bathroom door. It’s the sound of a woman with an English accent. “Miss Banner, I am your morning assistant, I am here to get you morning ready. Please come out when you are done.”
I open the door and peep outside. The Morning Assistant whatever that means, is a middle-aged, plump woman in a dark gray suit and white shirt stands in the middle of the room. She has also placed a massage table in the middle of the room. I look at her with a quizzical smile. “Should I come out?”
“Yes, please.”
I walk out with a towel wrapped around me. She quickly goes into the shower area, carrying a massive towel. Without a word she starts to dry my hair with it and then my back, my legs. It feels good to have her hands all over me, pampering me. The morning assistant seems to be in complete control, and I have to say great at her job.
