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She tied her hair up with just a single ornate grip and finished the look with black high heels and red lipstick. Marcy had 100% approved everything about the look when Kensley sent her a picture of the final result.
Kensley felt as if she looked nothing like herself, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like what she saw in the mirror looking back at her.
She was as ready as she was going to get. One last thing. She retrieved the carefully folded sheet of paper from her handbag, folded it into a quarter, and slipped it into her belt. Perfect.
At five minutes to seven, she was just about to venture toward the elevator when she spun around. Okay, she’d broken most of her own rules with frenetic speed, so she deserved this one reprieve. She searched the underwear drawer and, compromising, found her skimpiest pair of panties. In sheer mesh with lace trim and some other bits of fabric to keep it together, the little triangle barely covered her mons. She decided it was a good compromise as she slipped them on.
She had just made a turn back out of the bedroom when she almost collided with Alice.
“You look amazing. I can see exactly why Mr. McLeod is so crazy about you,” Alice blurted, then blushed as if she had spoken out of turn.
“Thank you,” Kensley said, then added, “For the record, Mr. McLeod is just crazy, but not about me.”
Alice smiled and frowned at the same time.
“Your dinner is ready, and I wanted to find out if you'd like to take it here or in the dining room.”
“Is Mr. McLeod home?” Butterflies twirled in her tummy at the thought of eating with him. In fact, eating opposite him would be the most normal thing they would ever do, given their weird relationship and the things that had happened between them already.
“No. He never has dinner at home, and we leave as soon as we're done cleaning.”
Disappointment filled her up. It didn't matter. She would catch him later. Surely he had to come home at some point, right?
“So you had to stay on just so you could cook me dinner?” She was still so uncomfortable with people waiting on her.
“Oh no. I can't cook to save my life.” Alice giggled. “Mr. McLeod instructed me to call in his private chef, Pierre. He is world-renowned, and his food is to die for.”
“I could have just gotten something myself from the kitchen. A peanut butter sandwich or something. I really don't want to disrupt anything.” It was clear Hunter's household staff got paid full salaries for basically doing nothing, which was a dream job, and here she was making them work and stay on.
“Mr. McLeod said you are to want for nothing during your stay. We're completely at your disposal. Besides, you've made Pierre a very happy man. He hardly ever gets to cook for Mr. McLeod.”
“In that case, I'd like to eat in the dining room, thank you.”
She followed Alice to the dining hall and snorted in a quite unladylike manner. The opulence was stunning, and she snorted because she couldn’t find fault with it. The contemporary room sported a long glass table with heavy silver-embellished chairs, the backrests, and seats upholstered in white and silver stripes. Three chandeliers hung low across the table, and abstract art pieces added to the ambiance of modern flare.
Alice led her to the head of the table, a place she was sure Hunter occupied when he was around.
She sat down at the perfectly laid place setting just as Alice excused herself. A minute later, a stream of servants, followed by a robust giant of a man, entered the room. He immediately took her hand and gently kissed her fingers.
“Ah, mademoiselle. Such beauty. Charmant. You make me so happy. I am Pierre.” Kensley immediately liked the heavily accented chef, just as she did Alice, Karl, and Chelsea. “Please, please, I would be honored if you sampled my humble offerings.”
“Thank you, Pierre,” she said wholeheartedly, enjoying his twinkling eyes. He kissed her fingers again, bowed, and slipped out of the room. The servers laid dish after dish before her. And that was only the first course.
Suddenly ravenous, she tried everything, from vegetable marshmallows to caviar and salmon cream, a beautiful pea and mint soup, and some other colorful dishes she didn't know what to call.
The main was beyond delicious and came with two options. Succulent honey-glazed duck with asparagus cooked to die for or Kobe steak with caramelized red onion and pears.
Pierre checked on her personally before she was left alone to savor some of the best food she had ever had the pleasure of sampling.
By dessert time, she was flustered with anticipation as to what masterpiece Pierre had prepared. She was not disappointed. Orgasmic pleasure exploded inside her as she spooned the sweet decadence of an haute dark chocolate brownie with hazelnut ice cream into her mouth. She tried a whimsical macaroon, an extraordinary cupcake made with saffron and gold leaf, and a chocolate truffle.
She had just moved onto a little Fabergé egg made of sinfully delicious mousse when a shadow darkened the gaily-lit dining room.
