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Her light green eyes widened at his blatant close proximity. He brushed her hair away from one side and curled it around her tiny ear. He let his finger trail over the delicate shell, marveling that her flesh was soft and smelled of soap and something lightly floral.
“Mr. Moore?” His name came from her as a whisper, and he found his gaze trained on her mouth. “What are you doing?” There was uneasiness in her voice, and that sound is what had him realizing what he was doing.
He let go of her and leaned back in his seat. The temptation to touch her had been too strong, and he had crossed a line because of his selfish needs. He would have Blythe Winters and so would Stellan, but all of that was in due time. Pushing her too fast would only end up in pushing her farther back.
That was something he wasn’t about to risk.
“I apologize, Miss Winters. That was completely inappropriate, but please don’t hide yourself from me.” He offered her a smile he hoped reassured her.
“It’s fine. Everything is fine.” She pushed her hair off her shoulders, and he wondered if he rattled her that badly. “My mother put me in ballet when I was five, after my father… left. I guess she thought it would keep my mind off things and help me stay busy. I took to it pretty fast and stayed with it all through high school. I knew I wanted to continue with it, and so I decided to venture away from home and start fresh in New York.”
Her voice was a bit shaky, and he wondered what had happened in her life and if she would trust him with her past. She took a deep breath and continued.
“I started going to school and training when I first came to New York. Everything was going great, but then I hurt myself on stage, and it ended before it even really started.” She grabbed the blanket that sat on the empty seat beside her. “Nothing violent happened and I didn’t have an affair with my instructor.”
She was teasing, and he knew it was her way of deflecting from the seriousness of the topic.
“I was practicing apas de deux. Ballet is strenuous on the body to begin with. You get aches in places you didn’t even know existed.” She started picking at the hem of the blanket. “Long story short, my partner didn’t hold me in the right position which resulted in me falling and landing awkwardly on my ankle. Needless to say, my career was over. I stopped pointe altogether, even withdrawing from school.”
She unfolded the blanket and laid it over her lap.
“Okay, enough with the depressing topic, Mr. Moore.” She smiled, and it was filled with so much sorrow Dietrich regretted even bringing it up.
There were many things he wanted to say to her. Things that would bring light to her eyes again and wash away the disappointment that poured from her. His reaction to her didn’t surprise him, not when he had felt just as strongly when he first met Stellan all those years ago.
Dietrich relied on his gut and instincts to make multi-million-dollar purchases. Those instincts never failed him, not with Stellan and certainly not with Blythe.
He would teach her how to let go, to feel free and hand herself over to him with the trust he needed. Dietrich wouldn’t let her down. In fact, he would help her realize that she could be free if only she relinquished herself to him.
She didn’t need to be burdened when he and Stellan could help her feel only pleasure, emotional and physical. He knew his lover as well as he knew himself, and if he had this strong of a reaction to Blythe, then there was no question so would his sub.
Instead of continuing on with a subject that clearly upset her, he simply said, “Rest up, Miss Winters.” She nodded and let herself close her eyes.
Maybe she realized how easy it was to obey? She certainly did it so well.
He could see plainly that she was burdened with her emotions, but he would soon show her there was no need to carry them alone.
ChapterSix
The plane landed a little after five a.m. local time, just as Walter said, and now they were headed toward Mr. Moore’s villa. The car that had been waiting for them was a sleek Mercedes.
Blythe had only been to a few states, so flying across the ocean to another country was wondrous for her. Everything seemed so grand and wonderful, even with her jet lag weighing her down.
She’d woken up a few times during the night to see Mr. Moore typing away on his laptop, but he had been far too engrossed in what he was doing to notice her. He named off stunning buildings they passed on their drive to his home: Estátua de Dom Pedro IV, Santa Engrácia, and her favorite thus far, the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos.
She wondered if he purposefully took the scenic route because they were spread out pretty well, and it seemed a bit out of the way, but she wasn’t complaining because it was a spectacular sight.
The Mosteiro dos Jerónimos, a church, had sat beautifully alone, with its pointed tips and stunning architecture. Maybe she would have time to sightsee a bit, to walk within the castles and churches that had been around for hundreds of years?
No, there probably wouldn’t be time for that, not with Mr. Moore’s chaotic schedule.
The rest of the ride was made in relative silence, and Mr. Moore spoke on the phone. His Portuguese was flawless, and Blythe found it quite romantic. Whoever he spoke to obviously was someone he cared for if his calm voice and gentle chuckles were anything to go by.
Maybe it was his lover or possibly a fling he met up with whenever he visited the country? She didn’t let it consume her thoughts and went back to watching the ocean roll by her. It was glorious and serene, and she let herself get lost in the pinks and oranges that painted the horizon.
The break of the waves tumbled onto the shore, and the foamy white deposit it left in its wake made for a hypnotizing view. The car pulled onto a cobblestoned, circular driveway, and Blythe marveled at the villa before her. The images she had seen certainly didn’t do it justice. The car stopped, and her door opened only moments later.
She climbed out and knew she probably looked like a tourist as she gawked at the gorgeous structure before her. The villa was more like a mansion, set right on the water. The sandy colored stone that made up the three-story beach home was a few shades darker than the sand only a few feet away.
