Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
Thorne
Iunderestimated just how much I was going to enjoy this.
Since Juno’s arrival, I’m blessedly free of the dreams that usually haunt my sleep. Unsurprising, I guess, since I’m currently living the dream.
But more than that; more than living out my subconscious, nighttime fantasies, I find I like having someone else in my space.
I never thought I would.
Is it her, or would I feel the same about anyone?
The other thing I hadn't considered - selfish of me, I know, though I hadn't meant to be - is how she'll fill her time when I'm not fucking her. Because with the best will in the world, and I sure as hell am willing, that can't happen 24/7, no matter how hard I try.
Which leaves a whole lot of hours in between to fill.
And how are those hours filled?
Yeah, definitely should have thought about that.
"Chess." She says it more to herself than to me, but I answer anyway.
"I beg your pardon?" I go with that since I'm not sure where this is heading.
"Chess. Do you play?" She asks, putting the final piece she's just finished polishing, that never needed polishing in the first place, back in its position.
I look at the ornate wooden set, wondering when I last played. It's not like I get a lot of visitors. And certainly not to play chess. "I... yes, I do. You?"
I shouldn't assume she doesn't, but I can't deny, I never pegged her as the type.
"Not for a few months," she admits, her expression crumbling into a sadness I don't care for. "I used to play with my dad before he died."
"I'm sorry, was it recent?"
"Umm..." She appears uncomfortable. "Yeah... about five weeks ago."
Damn. Poor girl's still grieving. What the hell is she doing here? A part of me wants to know. Another part is screaming at me to step back and not get involved.
"I'm sorry for your loss." God, that sounds trite, but what else can I say? "Would you like a game, or would that bring back too many raw memories for you?"
She stares at the set again. "Actually, I'd love to play."
She picks up the board and carries it over to the coffee table, then drops to the floor and sits cross-legged. "Are you comfortable like that?" Yeah, I know, you're wondering if I've been abducted and replaced by aliens.
So am I!
So is Juno if the look of surprise on her face is anything to go by. But the wide smile she offers makes it worth it.
"I'm good. Thank you for asking."
'Thanks for asking.' Why does something so simple hit me so hard?
She's surprisingly good, and it's the most enjoyable game I've had in far too long.
"Check mate."
"Wait what? No!"
I scrutinize the pieces on the board. How the hell did she do that?
"It's okay you underestimated me," she says cheekily. "Most people do."
"As much as I want to object, that was well played," I concede. "But how the hell are you that good? How old are you? Twenty-one, twenty-two? I must have a good ten years on you."
She grins and it's disarming. "Almost twenty-four; and I've been playing since I was six years old. Does that make you thirty-four?"
The question is almost sneaked in along with her reply, and I find myself answering without meaning to. "Thirty-two."
"When's your birthday?"
"October."
"Well, I'm May, so there's only eight years between us, and I bet you didn't start playing as early as I did."
I think back to my younger years, which seem so long ago. "I learned when I was fourteen. That makes us equal. With age comes experience."
"And when was the last time you got to use that experience?"
I laugh and she gives me an odd look I can't quite interpret. "Okay, you've got me there. It's been a while."
Rising to her feet, she takes the board and replaces it where it lives. "Well, perhaps I can help you dust off your skills while I'm here," she suggests. "We'll see if you can beat me before I leave." She waggles her eyebrows, and it's so endearing, words fail me, so all I do is nod.
"Right, I'm going to bed, if that's alright with you." Is that speculation on her face?
Damn, I think she just propositioned me.
"I'll be right there."
And that's how it starts. The slow, gradual sharing of small things is so much more intimate than sex.
"So, what do you do that you can just take three weeks off work... Or have you been saving up all your holidays for this fantasy of yours?"
I quirk an eyebrow at her, and she shrugs.
"Okay, forget I said that. Obviously you have an upmarket place, and Primal Fantasies charges top whack, so you must have a few bob."
She's cheeky and inquisitive, and I should hate her poking her nose into things that don't concern her.
But I don't.
I even provide the answers.
"I own a fortune 500 company, and after I made my first million, I invested in the stock market. I worked my socks off for twelve years before I started to delegate. That was two years ago, but I'm still very involved, I just balance it better."
And it's been a lonely two years if I'm honest, during which I've done much more in the company than I planned to because there's nothing else to monopolize my time. All the things I thought I wanted to do, I managed within the first six months.
Juno whistles. "Wow, so you started your company when you were just eighteen?"
I nod, and not wanting to delve into it any deeper, turn the tables on her. "And what about you? How did you end up doing a gig like this? Or... what do you normally do?"
She purses her lips. "Ironically, I clean people’s houses. Not quite a maid, but close."
Her response surprises me. "Would you think I was being rude if I said I expected something a little more... um... okay, forget I said anything," I finish, not able to think of a polite way to put it and not wanting to insult her.
Being Juno, she just laughs out loud. "You were going to say you expected more from me, weren't you?"
It's not really a question.
"Well, you've proven your intelligence. I'd have thought that warranted more than a low paid, no skill job."
"I'll take that as a compliment. And you're right. I had all these big plans."
Her expression shutters and she folds in on herself. I hate it.
"What happened?" I know there's a story there. A harsh one.
Her bottom lip trembles. "My mom got sick a few years ago - cancer. My dad couldn't care for her and work, so I quit college. I planned to go back, but..."
"But then your dad died?"
She swallows convulsively, and I know she's trying to hold back the tears. "Something like that. Anyway, college was no longer an option, and I had to find a job that put food on the table."
There's more, I know, but I don't push. But I hope she’ll tell me before she leaves.
"I can't believe you watch rom coms!"
The absolute shock in Juno's voice is hilarious.
"Why?"
"Because you're this big, wealthy, grouchy, bossy, alpha, macho male, and rom com just seems..."
I give her a playful side-eye. "Are you saying I can't enjoy rom com because of those things? Now who's throwing around the stereotypes? I'll have you know I enjoy a good laugh, and who doesn't love a happy ending? Life has enough bullshit going on without adding to the doom with film choices."
"Amen to that." It's a simple reply, but it solidifies the feeling that there's a whole lot of bullshit she's not told me about still.
"What's your favorite meal?"
"Why?"
"I thought I'd make it for you one day if you have the ingredients."
I stop what I'm doing and stare at her.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I just... I can't remember the last time someone offered something like that." Has anyone ever? Honestly, I think the answer's no.
"Then I'm sad for you." Juno pokes out her bottom lip and looks adorable. "Everyone needs a little TLC, even if it's just small things. So, what is it?"
"Beef Wellington with crushed new potatoes in aioli and tender stem broccoli."
She looks nonplussed.
"But you don't have to make it for me." Perhaps it's beyond her culinary skills, though they’ve been superb, so far.
"No, I'll make it... that was just... oddly specific."
I press my lips together. "My mother used to make it on special occasions."
Before she decided being a wife and mother was too much of a chore and ran off with another man. But I don't tell her that.