Chapter 9 #2
"She teaches Tuesdays and Thursdays at this time. I'm usually here both days if you want a regular Pilates buddy." Niama and I both lifted and stretched before heading to get our things.
"I might take you up on that but I'm not sure what my schedule is going to look like. Can I let you know?"
"Girl, yeah. Let me give you my number." She dug her phone out of her bag and I did the same with mine, unlocking the screen. After she called out her number, I keyed it in then texted her so she had mine. She pecked and swiped on her phone then held it up.
"Got you saved."
"Me too."
As we headed toward the exit, my phone vibrated with a message. I glanced at the screen and found a text from Christian confirming our dinner tonight and rolled my eyes. My momentary peace from the Pilates session was already short lived.
"Everything okay?" Niama asked, noticing my mood change.
"Just work." I dropped my phone back into my bag and forced a smile.
"Okay, girl. Don't forget to hit me up if you need a Pilates fix or we can just grab lunch or something. How long are you here for?"
"A month for now but maybe more."
My mind went right to Christian and I groaned internally as we paused near the elevator that would take us to the lower level lobby.
"Then we're definitely having lunch."
I agreed and after we stepped off on ground level and parted ways, I smiled, feeling somewhat grateful about the potential of having someone to talk to who wasn't connected to my business dealings here.
I decided to walk back to the hotel instead of calling for a ride.
My muscles were pleasantly worked and the sun on my face felt good.
As soon as I made it back to my room, I would shower, order something halfway healthy to eat, and relax until I had to face the firing squad later.
"So Miles, what exactly is Christian planning for tonight?" I asked, adjusting my position in the back seat of the Bentley that showed up to get me.
Miles glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Mr. Devereaux has dinner planned, ma'am."
"Just dinner? Nothing else I should know about?"
"I'm just the driver, Ms. Whitney." I stared at him in the rearview and noticed the amusement in his expression.
"Come on, Miles. Give me something to work with here."
"My job is to get you there safely. That's all I can give you."
"That's all you're going to give me?" I mumbled.
Miles smiled. "That's all I know. My job is to safely drive you to your destination."
"Have you worked for Christian long?"
"Yes."
"Then you know if he regularly invites business associates to his house for dinner and what those dinners consist of."
Miles chuckled. "I'm just the driver, Ms. Whitney."
I leaned back against the leather seat. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Enjoying what?"
"My frustration."
"I wouldn't dare enjoy a beautiful woman's frustration. I'm damn sure smarter than that." His eyes met mine in the mirror again. Yep, definitely amused.
The car turned onto a private road. After a minute, the Devereaux estate came into view. Everything was white aside from the black framing of the massive tinted windows.
Miles pulled up to the entrance, got out, and came around to open my door. He offered his hand, which I knocked away, and I stepped out on my own. He chuckled and I mumbled a thank you.
"My pleasure, Ms. Whitney. Mr. Devereaux is expecting you."
Before I reached the door, it opened. Christian stood in the entrance wearing jeans and a T-shirt that looked cozy and clung to his chest in ways that made my fingers ache to touch him.
"Scotlyn. Right on time."
"My captor made sure of that." I shot an evil look at Miles who grinned.
Christian tossed his chin to Miles. "I'll call when we're done."
Miles returned to the car, and after his big body was settled in the driver's seat, he drove away, leaving me alone with Christian.
"Come in." He stepped aside and I glanced at the back of the Bentley I had just arrived in and debated whether or not he would stop and let me in if I made a run for it. After a short sigh, I decided to get this over with and moved inside.
The interior was beautiful and worked with the exterior.
White walls accented with black trim and artwork.
The floors in the foyer were striped with black and white marble that transitioned to black distressed wood planks.
To the right was a curved staircase that led to a second level encased matte black railing.
It was also modern with simple furnishings that were undoubtedly expensive but classy.
"This place is beautiful," I said.
"My mother would love that you appreciate her vision."
"She decorated?"
"She paid a lot of money to have it decorated but also hasn't stepped foot in here since my father needed full-time care and moved to assisted living.
" I sensed the tension in his voice at the mention of his parents but didn't push.
I had my own love-hate relationship with my father.
Families were complicated, no matter how much you loved them.
Christian gestured toward the open kitchen.
"Can I get you something to drink? I have wine but if you want something stronger… "
"Wine is fine."
I followed him down a hallway into a massive kitchen.
There was a flow to the color scheme. We passed a living room that had comfy looking white sofas with black wood framing at the base and matching end tables.
There were black and white paintings on the walls and the marble floors were white with flecks of black that matched the countertops in the kitchen which tied things together with black veining.
Christian walked to the wine fridge and selected a bottle. I couldn't help but enjoy the view. The man was unfairly attractive.
I noticed someone was in the middle of preparing our meal, and since it was just the two of us, I had to assume it was him.
"You're cooking?"
"Is that a problem?"
"Are you going to poison me?"
He smiled sexily. "That would defeat the purpose of having you here. I have plans for you that require you to be fully capable of making informed decisions." The way his voice dropped made my stomach tense.
"Red okay?"
"Perfect."
"Cabernet. It will pair well with the food."
He opened the bottle smoothly and poured two glasses. His forearms flexed with the movement and I felt like drooling. Something so simple shouldn't be so sexy.
"Dinner's almost ready. I hope you like steak."
"I do."
"Good, how do you like yours?"
"Well done."
He nodded and handed me a glass. "You can keep me company while I finish up."
I sat on a stool at the island counter, enjoying my wine and watching him work. He moved with confidence, flipping steaks, checking potatoes, and adjusting the vegetables cooking on a built-in stovetop grill.
"I'm impressed." I motioned toward the steaks then the vegetables he was grilling.
"Men cook, Scot."
Scot.
Every time he said my name like that, with familiarity, it made my stomach tense. The relaxed way it rolled off his tongue had me fighting a smile.
"I know but based on the way all this smells. You're good at it."
"Cooking is a useful skill. When my staff isn't here I still need to eat."
"So no takeout for Christian Devereaux?"
"Occasionally." He flipped the asparagus then glanced at me over his shoulder again. "But I prefer knowing exactly what I'm eating."
That statement was weighted, and based on the way his eyes slowly moved the length of my body before he turned back to the grill, it was also loaded with a meaning that didn't have a damn thing to do with food. Acknowledgement shot down my spine and had me taking down another gulp of wine.
"Do you cook?"
"Enough to survive. I'm pretty busy so I don't have much time to spend in the kitchen. My options are limited."
He nodded and I didn't feel any judgment. More like he was just noting the details.
"I pretty much approach cooking like everything else in my life with intention and attention to detail."
My pussy pulsed in approval of his attention to detail but I pushed the thought away, determined to maintain some composure and not jump on him before he finished our dinner.
"The vegetables smell amazing. What did you season them with?"
"Just olive oil, salt, pepper, fresh thyme, and an herbed garlic marinade."
"You don't use just before something that elaborate."
He chuckled while lifting the vegetables and arranging them on two plates. The sizzle had my stomach doing a happy dance.
"I didn't make it. It's prepackaged so I only get points for dropping it in my cart at the grocery store."
"Right, simple." I rolled my eyes and grinned.
I watched as he moved to check the potatoes in the oven, bending to peer through the glass door before he reached for a silicone oven mitt to remove them.
Once he had them next to the vegetables, he flipped the steaks.
All of this was very domestic but he was still sexy and confident while he cooked and plated food that had my fingers itching to take out my phone and steal a few pictures.
Of the food and him…
"Almost ready." He flipped the steaks a few more times.
"Can I help with anything?"
Watching him cook for me was enjoyable but I also felt out of place just sitting around lusting after the visual. Also too intimate…
"I didn't take you for a man who cooks."
"There's a lot you don't know about me."
"Clearly." I crossed my legs, hyper aware of his eyes tracking the movement.
He smiled. "You've barely scratched the surface of who and what I am, Scotlyn."
He was flirting and very open about it. This was going to be a long night.
"How many bedrooms does this place have?" I asked, changing the subject because this was supposed to be food, business, then running my ass up out of here.
"Eight. Too many for one person."
"Planning to fill them?"
Shit, why did I ask that? Too personal…
Christian glanced up and his eyes met mine in a hard stare. "My focus right now is on building my businesses."