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“Ms. Silverman?” he asks as I walk up.
“That’s me,” I say, and allow him to open the door for me. I slide into the limo and realize that I’ve never been in one before. I’ve never had ‘let’s rent a limo’ type friends. It always seemed like an unnecessary extravagance. Now that I’m inside one, I think we may have miscalculated. This is fantastic. There are little water bottles and so many air vents I could probably have the air conditioning blowing on every part of my body at once.
I lie down on one of the bench seats as we begin to move. How often do you get to lounge in a limo alone? I might as well take advantage of it. But almost immediately I’m cold and have to turn the air conditioning down. I had no idea what to wear today—what do you wear to meet the man who’s going to boss you around for three days? —and I ended up in a halter top and jeans. Too much exposed skin on my top half to have the air blasting.
With it on a lower setting, it’s way more comfortable, and I start to drift off. I woke up multiple times this morning afraid that I had missed my alarm, and I’m sleepy. I don’t even notice I’m drifting off, but a jolt under the wheels wakes me, and I see that the city is gone and we’re driving down a lane with tall trees on either side. Through the foliage, a house appears, and I have a hard time keeping my jaw off the floor. That’s not a house, that’s a fucking mansion.
All old stone and ivy with one of those circular driveways that every rich person seems to have, it’s easily one of the most beautiful houses I’ve ever seen. I can’t even imagine what the inside looks like. We pull up to the front doors—double and glass covered in wrought iron—and Matthew steps out of them, coming down to greet me.
He’s wearing jeans too, which makes me feel better, and a button down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. I know plenty of women who would write songs about those forearms, and I’m determined to make sure that he never knows that I’m one of them. He stands on the bottom of the wide stone steps leading up to the door and waits.
The chauffeur hurries around and opens the door. “Thank you,” I say, realizing that I could easily have opened the door myself if I hadn’t been ogling Matthew and the house.
“No problem, Miss. Enjoy your day.”
Now that I’m face-to-face with Matthew, I have no idea what to say. He’s still sexy as fuck, and after all our racy text messages, I’d be happy to skip directly to the fucking. I don’t think that’s going to happen, though. We both stand silent as the limo disappears down the drive, and until there’s nothing but the sound of birds to hear.
“Good morning,” he says, smiling a little.
“Morning.”
“How was the drive?”
I stretch my arms and back. “I slept for most of it. The car was really comfortable. I’d never been in a limo before today, I didn’t expect it to rock me to sleep.”
Matthew chuckles. “I’m glad you liked it. Come on, I have breakfast waiting. I thought we’d talk for a bit.”
“Talk?” I raise an eyebrow, “We’re not going straight to the dungeon?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ll be happy to know that my playroom has heat and carpeting. I’d hardly call it a dungeon. But no, we’re not going directly there.”
I follow him into the house and a gorgeous entryway decorated in shades of cream. It looks like one of those houses you see in films, perfectly staged with a blend of art and antiques. “This is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he smiles over his shoulder at me. “I’ll give you the grand tour after breakfast.”
“From how big it looks on the outside, the grand tour might take the whole three days.”
“It does seem that way sometimes,” he says, chuckling again.
This is definitely not what I expected. I mean, I knew he was rich and that he’d live someplace big and gorgeous, but I was expecting something more…gothic. This is the opposite. It’s light and open and doesn’t feel the least bit oppressive. I suppose it’s not fair that I would assume that, but still…even lily’s wedding was black and crimson. Even though it’s extravagant, it’s shockingly normal. Peaceful, even.
We’re winding our way through hallways that are smaller than I imagined, and suddenly we’re at a tiny door and back out into sunlight. A small courtyard of brick and ivy is on the other side, with a bistro table and chairs. Breakfast is laid out on the table; everything from croissants and orange juice to what I think might be apple strudel.
