Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Katarina
I wake to the sun streaming in through the windows.
Win and I are in a deadlocked competition and I’m losing. I know it’s true, because I don’t even feel like fighting, and I always feel like fighting.
But he’s turned my bones to jelly after last night.
I had no idea that a man touching me would be that…consuming.
And now, I’m not sure I want to do anything but wrap myself around him like the kitten he called me.
I’d like to rub against him while I purr…
I push myself up from the bed, giving my face a little smack.
This is Win…
The man who straight up told me that I was staying with him whether I liked it or not. He’s the man who stole my money. The man who pinned me to the wall.
But he’s also the man who kissed me with such tenderness.
I snort to myself. Get it together, Katarina. I throw the covers back and push up from the bed. You’re not that starved for affection.
But maybe I am. Crossing into the bathroom, I look in the mirror. My cheeks are rosier than they’ve been in ages, my eyes bright.
I look healthier for crying out loud.
Brushing my teeth, I hop into the shower and then dress in leggings and a tunic before I start downstairs to find coffee and some breakfast.
I have no idea how it works in a house like this, but I’m about to find out.
Maybe a staff member will give me attitude, help me get my mojo back.
After ten minutes of searching, I finally find the kitchen.
The moment I walk in, the entire staff turns and bows…bows to me…like I’m a person who matters.
I don’t.
I blink back my surprise.
“Miss Ivanov, so wonderful to meet you,” a white-coated older woman steps up to me. “What can we help you with?”
“I…” I swallow down a lump. “Was hoping for coffee and maybe an egg.”
“Of course. Would you like a tray brought to your room, or should I have Mary show you to the dining room?”
“My room would be great.” If I can find my way back.
The chef bows again. “Feel free to ring us from your room if you require anything throughout the day. We’re here to provide whatever you might need.”
A younger woman steps forward. “I have a pot of coffee ready if you’d like to take a cup with you.”
I give a quick nod of appreciation as a cup is poured and placed in my hand. Espresso, Italian I’d guess, but strong like Russian coffee, and I inhale a deep whiff. “Perfect. Thank you.”
“No need to thank us,” the older woman raises her hand. “That is what we’re here for.”
I give a small jerk of my chin in acknowledgment. Royalty does not thank staff, but I’m not royalty.
Apparently, as the duke’s guest, I fall under the same rule. But the staff was so exceedingly pleasant, I find myself humming as I leave the kitchen, coffee in hand. So much for my mojo.
I’ve only made my way up the back stairwell when Win appears in the hall. He looks ready for a day of being a duke in a crisp white shirt and dress slacks with polished black loafers.
I begin tingling at the sight of him, a throbbing starting between my thighs.
“Don’t you look fresh,” I say, taking another sip of my coffee.
“I haven’t been called fresh since I was ten and gave my mother guff.”
I smile around the cup. “I meant like mint, or clean laundry.”
He quirks one brow as he looks back at me. “I have something for you.” Then he turns and starts back down the hall.
It’s my cue to follow, but I take another sip of coffee before I begin trailing behind him.
I can admit that it’s a nice view, watching the masculine sway of his body as he moves.
He stops in a doorway at the end of the hall and gestures for me to enter. I catch up and do as he commands.
As I step into the space, I take in the small room, made larger by the high ceilings. It’s been paneled in dark wood three quarters of the way up, the top wallpapered a deep red. It’s masculine, sophisticated and cozy all at the same time, with leather club chairs flanking a lit fireplace.
“May I?” I gesture at one of the chairs.
“Of course.”
I sit, curling into one of them, and he takes the other, his knees spreading in a stance that makes me think of snuggling up in his lap.
Instead, I take another sip of coffee, attempting to get a hold of myself even as I fantasize about the feel of his body against mine.
“The case on my desk is yours.”
That interrupts my little fantasy, as I twist my neck around, taking in the brown leather briefcase. “My money?”
“Your money.”
I look back at Win. “I’ll return your things later today.” It turns out, removing them from the hiding spot will be my problem.
He gives a brief jerk of his chin. “Thank you.”
I take another sip of my coffee, attempting to decide if we discuss last night. What we did. What it means. Are we doing it again? My gaze starts sliding down his body, settling on the bulge in his dress pants.
“I’d also like to ask a favor.”
That brings my attention back to the present as my eyes go wide. “What sort?”
“Tonight, I have a benefit I’m to attend. I’d hoped to bring…” He looks away.
“One of your potential brides?” I ask, hoping the coffee cup covers my frown. Win is surely marrying one of them, I know I ought to not let that bother me. This is not a happily-ever-after story. I’m sure about that.
“But I was preoccupied last night, and I find myself without a companion. Would you join me?”
That makes my mouth drop open, at least for a moment, before I close my lips again. “Getting more use out of that red dress?”
“Oh no, this one is black tie. I’ll have a staff member get something for you.”
“Not Ken?” I ask, my brows lifting. I know he was at my door last night. I could hear his muffled voice.
“Ken will no longer be in my employ.”
I’d love to ask more, but it’s not my place to indulge my curiosities. What matters is that Win is as decisive as he is strong. Poor Ken. “While we’re out, can we discuss some of the other facets of our relationship?”
“What facets do we need to discuss?”
“Besides last night?”
His jaw hardens, but he doesn’t say a word.
I let out a small sigh. No answer is a definite answer. I should be keeping my eyes to myself. “We need to talk about how you see this situation playing out in terms of my father.”
“Fair enough. Come tonight and we’ll discuss both your questions and the information you promised me.”
“Fine,” I give a nod before I stand. “I’ll go.”
“Good.” He stands too. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight.” I walk around him, catching a whiff of his cologne. It reminds me of being pressed to the bed under his weight.
A memory I’m going to have to keep in check.
But my body gives a decided throb. At least I’m no longer relaxed, I’m primed with energy once again.
It just isn’t for fighting.
It’s for that other F word.
But based on Win’s reaction, I’m even less likely to get satisfaction on that front than I am in my hopes for revenge.