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Every day at work, she spent her hours catering to his whims. And yet this evening, he’d met her every desire.
He was complex enough to be unfathomable.
Still, because it gave her something to do with her hands, she accepted the bottle.
The drive to her small apartment on the outskirts of the city took much less time than it did during the week. But instead of dropping her at the entrance to her complex, Frost instructed the driver to park in a loading zone—not that it mattered at this time of the night.
The driver jogged around to open the door. “Thank you,” she told the man. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Jennings, ma’am.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Jennings. I appreciate the ride.”
“A pleasure, ma’am.” He doffed his hat.
Frost grabbed her bag and walked her up the stairs and to her door.
“Thank you for an enjoyable evening, Ms. Robbins.”
“Thank you…” At the club, calling him Sir had been natural, but now it would be odd.
“Are you an early riser?”
“Not on Sundays.” The only day she didn’t have to show up at work.
“In that case, I will pick you up at ten.”
Pick me up?She scowled. “For what?”
“So we can go ring shopping.”
His words stunned her into silence. How far was he planning to take this charade?
“Then we’ll have lunch and…get to know one another better.” He leaned toward her. Close, then closer still, and her brain short circuited.
Was he going to kiss her? Would she let him if he did?
But instead he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
Her hand shook uncontrollably as she inserted her key into the lock.
“Sleep well, Ms. Robbins.”
With everything they’d shared, he’d ensured that she would do anything but that.
Once she was inside with a sealed door between them, she collapsed her shoulders against the wood, trying to drag in a deep breath.
What had just happened between them had rocked her world. And now she was left with a single question.
How would she possibly survive Evan Frost and his unceasing, escalating demands?
CHAPTERFOUR
“Business and pleasure don’t mix, Frost. You know it.”
Across the numerous speakers hanging from the ceiling in his home gym, the judgmental tone of Mistress Aviana’s voice annoyed the hell out of him—probably because he’d had the same thought a hundred or maybe a thousand times.
Knowing what he was in for with the persistent Domme, he hit the STOP button on the treadmill and snatched up the small towel draped over the display.
