The Master
Page 58
In any case, I had no choice about attending; to bad weather . . .
This jeweler was the last of the vendors left. He’d displayed his wares across the long dining room table, atop a roll of black velvet. Earlier, Sevastyan had strode by on his way to the study. “She’ll take them.” He’d waved at the entire collection.
I hastily assured the jeweler, “He’s joking!”
“Of course, dear,” the man had said, but we both knew Sevastyan had not been joking.
At Máxim’s insistence, I’d filled two closets. When the stores came to you, shopping was a completely different experience. I had more shoes than I could count, luggage, boots, skirts, blouses, sweaters, snow gear, purses, an unforgettable full-length dress for the night wedding—and drawers of lingerie.
Trying on bras had been a chore because of what he’d done to me the night before. This morning, my nipples had remained swollen, and my body had felt battered. To get through my run, I’d had to pop Advil and tape my nipples with Band-Aids. Sevastyan had watched me running again (avidly, a lion to my gazelle). Once I’d finished, he hadn’t even waited for me to pass the bed; he’d nabbed me directly off the treadmill, forcing my legs around his waist. He’d tugged up my bra, asking, “What’s this?”
“Tape.” I’d gasped as he yanked my shorts aside and thrust into me. “They’re t-too sensitive.”
“You poor thing,” he’d said, but his eyes had been gleaming.
Throughout the day he’d pulled me into our room to kiss them better—sweet, gentle kisses all around my nipples. Which had just made them worse!
To add insult to injury, he’d taunted me with his mirror message. I’d last written about the door hitting my ass on the way out. His reply?
How far will you get tied to my bed?
Fucking devil! I’d replied: Baby boy, all the way to Nebraska.
The mirror was huge, but we were already running out of room.
Now he returned from the study, ending a phone call. “What’s the hold up?” he asked me.
The money you’re spending! Keeping a tally had been challenging since there were no price tags, and I had to ask each time. But I could swear he’d spent close to—I swallowed—half a million dollars on me. Whenever that figure had robbed me of breath, I’d imagined his outlay as a teeny-tiny percentage of his wealth. Everything was relative, right?
Sevastyan’s gaze flicked over the earrings, and that gleam returned. He told the jeweler, “She’ll absolutely take those. . . .”
Once the man had gone, Máxim said, “I’ve seen your take for the day. Your results were meager.”
“Por el amor de Dios. Seriously?”
“If you don’t dress to the nines, it reflects upon me. You’ll begin again tomorrow morning.”
“Máxim, I don’t need this much! And I’m worried about your spending. If you make a market return on your billion, then you’ve spent more than you earned today.”
In the same tone I often used with him, he said, “Ah, does my baby girl think I only have a billion liquid?”
My jaw dropped. Unreported mafiya income. Then I burst out laughing. “I like your sense of humor.”
“I have one?”
“You bring down my house.” I petted his chest. “I can’t shop tomorrow anyway. I have a date with this Russian guy.”
Raised brows. “Oh, do you?”
“He’s really rich, so he’s taking the day off to play with me.”
His eyes grew lively. “What are you two going to do?”
“Spend the afternoon by the pool, grilling out on the deck. Later, he’ll take me running on the beach. I’m making margaritas. And more turrón. He’s like a bear after honey with that stuff—”
Máxim swooped me into his arms and strode for the bedroom. “Fine. You’re excused from shopping.” He reached around and spanked my ass while I squealed. “I won’t buy you another bloody thing—it’s so goddamned unpleasant.”
I wriggled. “What are you going to do to me?”
“All this talk about turrón and honey has my mouth watering for my favorite treat. . . .”
A couple of hours later, I’d been grinning, stretching on the bed when he’d tossed me a wrapped present.
“What is it?” I tore into it. I swallowed.
He’d gotten me . . .
A red scarf.
“I can’t believe I’m going to see snow!” I said when Máxim’s jet was forty thousand feet over central Florida. I smoothed my fawn-colored skirt behind me, then sat beside him on one of the decadent leather couches. “I will, right?”
From behind a business journal, he said, “If I had a dollar for every time you checked the forecast . . . I vow to you that there will be plenty of snow. If there’s not, I’ll have some made.”
“It blows my mind that we’re going from a play-date in the sun to Nebraskan winter.”
Yesterday with him had been sublime. We’d wrestled in the pool, and he’d chased me around, and I’d let him catch me for sex.
Later when I’d prepped marinade for grilling and cooked dessert, he’d stayed in the kitchen to help. He’d asked me to speak more Spanish around him. Easy enough to oblige. But did he have to pick it up so quickly? He’d been reading food packages in Spanish.
This jeweler was the last of the vendors left. He’d displayed his wares across the long dining room table, atop a roll of black velvet. Earlier, Sevastyan had strode by on his way to the study. “She’ll take them.” He’d waved at the entire collection.
I hastily assured the jeweler, “He’s joking!”
“Of course, dear,” the man had said, but we both knew Sevastyan had not been joking.
At Máxim’s insistence, I’d filled two closets. When the stores came to you, shopping was a completely different experience. I had more shoes than I could count, luggage, boots, skirts, blouses, sweaters, snow gear, purses, an unforgettable full-length dress for the night wedding—and drawers of lingerie.
Trying on bras had been a chore because of what he’d done to me the night before. This morning, my nipples had remained swollen, and my body had felt battered. To get through my run, I’d had to pop Advil and tape my nipples with Band-Aids. Sevastyan had watched me running again (avidly, a lion to my gazelle). Once I’d finished, he hadn’t even waited for me to pass the bed; he’d nabbed me directly off the treadmill, forcing my legs around his waist. He’d tugged up my bra, asking, “What’s this?”
“Tape.” I’d gasped as he yanked my shorts aside and thrust into me. “They’re t-too sensitive.”
“You poor thing,” he’d said, but his eyes had been gleaming.
Throughout the day he’d pulled me into our room to kiss them better—sweet, gentle kisses all around my nipples. Which had just made them worse!
To add insult to injury, he’d taunted me with his mirror message. I’d last written about the door hitting my ass on the way out. His reply?
How far will you get tied to my bed?
Fucking devil! I’d replied: Baby boy, all the way to Nebraska.
The mirror was huge, but we were already running out of room.
Now he returned from the study, ending a phone call. “What’s the hold up?” he asked me.
The money you’re spending! Keeping a tally had been challenging since there were no price tags, and I had to ask each time. But I could swear he’d spent close to—I swallowed—half a million dollars on me. Whenever that figure had robbed me of breath, I’d imagined his outlay as a teeny-tiny percentage of his wealth. Everything was relative, right?
Sevastyan’s gaze flicked over the earrings, and that gleam returned. He told the jeweler, “She’ll absolutely take those. . . .”
Once the man had gone, Máxim said, “I’ve seen your take for the day. Your results were meager.”
“Por el amor de Dios. Seriously?”
“If you don’t dress to the nines, it reflects upon me. You’ll begin again tomorrow morning.”
“Máxim, I don’t need this much! And I’m worried about your spending. If you make a market return on your billion, then you’ve spent more than you earned today.”
In the same tone I often used with him, he said, “Ah, does my baby girl think I only have a billion liquid?”
My jaw dropped. Unreported mafiya income. Then I burst out laughing. “I like your sense of humor.”
“I have one?”
“You bring down my house.” I petted his chest. “I can’t shop tomorrow anyway. I have a date with this Russian guy.”
Raised brows. “Oh, do you?”
“He’s really rich, so he’s taking the day off to play with me.”
His eyes grew lively. “What are you two going to do?”
“Spend the afternoon by the pool, grilling out on the deck. Later, he’ll take me running on the beach. I’m making margaritas. And more turrón. He’s like a bear after honey with that stuff—”
Máxim swooped me into his arms and strode for the bedroom. “Fine. You’re excused from shopping.” He reached around and spanked my ass while I squealed. “I won’t buy you another bloody thing—it’s so goddamned unpleasant.”
I wriggled. “What are you going to do to me?”
“All this talk about turrón and honey has my mouth watering for my favorite treat. . . .”
A couple of hours later, I’d been grinning, stretching on the bed when he’d tossed me a wrapped present.
“What is it?” I tore into it. I swallowed.
He’d gotten me . . .
A red scarf.
“I can’t believe I’m going to see snow!” I said when Máxim’s jet was forty thousand feet over central Florida. I smoothed my fawn-colored skirt behind me, then sat beside him on one of the decadent leather couches. “I will, right?”
From behind a business journal, he said, “If I had a dollar for every time you checked the forecast . . . I vow to you that there will be plenty of snow. If there’s not, I’ll have some made.”
“It blows my mind that we’re going from a play-date in the sun to Nebraskan winter.”
Yesterday with him had been sublime. We’d wrestled in the pool, and he’d chased me around, and I’d let him catch me for sex.
Later when I’d prepped marinade for grilling and cooked dessert, he’d stayed in the kitchen to help. He’d asked me to speak more Spanish around him. Easy enough to oblige. But did he have to pick it up so quickly? He’d been reading food packages in Spanish.
