Becca
I slowly came to, my vision clearing as I blinked. What had happened? I remembered bumping into a massive chest at the catering event, a tray of drinks in hand. The drinks had fallen to the floor, there’d been a mess of broken glass and liquid, and … oh right, I’d fainted after cutting my hand.
But now my left hand was securely bandaged, not a drop of red in sight, and I was lying back on a comfy couch in an opulent library. They must have moved me to another room at the Caldwell Estate to get me out of the way. I looked around in amazement. Even in the darkened light, I could see that no expense had been spared with respect to the interior. Cavernous, eighteen foot walls were filled to the brim with books, and there was priceless artwork everywhere, antique furniture scattered about. I gasped in amazement, and a deep chuckle rang out from beside me.
The man sat there, his bulk precariously perched on a dainty seventeenth-century chair. He looked at me with gleaming blue eyes, his dark hair rumpled despite the elegant tux he wore.
“So the lady doesn’t like blood, eh?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.
“I … um, no, I’ve never been able to handle it well,” I said, blushing. My dress had ridden up high on my thighs, and I subtly tried to pull it down, suddenly aware of how much skin I was exposing.
But his eyes didn’t miss a thing. “Good thing I took first aid in high school,” he said. “We were able to stanch the blood, so by the time the doctor came, your hand had already stopped bleeding,” he said, nodding at my bandages.
“Thank you so much!” I rushed, my head spinning as I sat up abruptly. “I really appreciate it, but I’ve got to get back to the event now, they’ll be short-staffed without me,” I fumbled, my words tumbling out.
“Sit back, Trina,” he rumbled, pulling his chair closer. “Talk to me a bit.”
How had he known my sister’s name? Oh right, the name tag on my dress. Duh. I could feel his eyes on me, sweeping over my figure, and another rush of heat ran through my body, settling deep in my cunny. I flushed again.
“Thanks so much, sir,” I said, “But I’ve got to get back, they’re expecting me.”
He leaned back in the chair with a satisfied smile.
“Management’s not expecting anything,” he said. “I already told them you’d be taking the night off, and besides, we’re not at the Caldwell Estate anymore. I brought you to my home so that you could be seen by my personal doctor.”
His personal doctor? How many people had a doctor on staff?
But I babbled. “I totally appreciate it, but I should be getting home then. I have work tomorrow morning …” I trailed off before realizing my mistake. “Er, I mean, school tomorrow morning.”
“Sure, no problem little one,” he rumbled. “I’ll take you home in a bit. But first tell me about yourself,” he drawled.
Why would a man who was obviously powerful and wealthy want to talk with the help? But I was mesmerized by his beauty, the big bulk of his body heating the air around us, the air electrified as tingles ran down my spine.
“I’m a caterer,” I fudged, putting myself in Trina’s shoes. “I attend school part-time at the local community college and am getting my degree in Creative Writing,” I said. “I’m hoping to graduate in a year or two, but we’ll see, I still need a lot of credits.”
“Creative writing, eh?” he said, his eyes gleaming. “I may know something about that. And what do you write?”
“Oh this and that,” I mumbled, looking down. “Nothing much.” The truth was, I did like to write in my free time, taking on editing jobs occasionally or writing a short story here and there. My stuff always got rejected though.
“And is a pretty thing like you seeing anyone special?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.
“No!” I said. “I’m so busy with work and school and everything, I barely have time to even sleep sometimes.” At least that part was true. Between the long hours at the TV station and my hopes to write professionally one day, there was little time for a social life. Most nights I dropped off to sleep after eating dinner standing by the sink.
But a closed, shuttered look descended over his eyes. “Oh really, no boyfriend for a gorgeous girl like you?” he drawled lazily.
I looked down at my hands. “No,” I said quietly. “No one, not now at least.”
“Good then,” he said flatly. “Because you’re mine for tonight.”