Chapter Twelve
Leonardo
The library is dark tonight, with the smell of old books lingering in the air. I'm sitting at a desk in a corner with my nose buried in an old history book. The pages rustle gently in the breeze that comes through the open windows.
The quietness is interrupted when the door of the large room creaks open. I look up from my book, watching as Lorena sashays towards me. My hands tighten around the edges of the hardcover as I take in her nightgown. It’s a different one from what she wore that night, the night I dreamt about her. The soft, cotton material hugs her soft curves, and the neckline dips low, just enough for me to see a hint of her cleavage.
Long, flowing blonde hair that haunts my thoughts, the familiar scent of vanilla mixed with strawberries clinging to her skin. Her green eyes glint like emeralds in the dim lights, and her face makes my stomach flip.
She stops directly in front of my desk, looking down at me with a serious expression on her face. “You called for me,” she says quietly, her voice carrying across the room. “Did you need something?” Her hands are clasped behind her back, and her gaze meets mine evenly.
“Have a seat,” I command, gesturing towards the empty chair beside the desk.
She eyes me warily. “I’d rather stand, sir,” she says with an edge in her voice.
“It’s an order,” I say sternly.
In the dim lighting, I observe her swallow nervously before reluctantly taking the seat. There’s a nervous stiffness in her posture, but she still holds her head high as always. She looks straight into my eyes, daringly. A smile touches my lips, and I nod to myself, satisfied with her defiance.
“Tomorrow, you'll accompany me for my business meeting with an investor,” I announce in a firm voice, leaving no room for argument.
But, of course, Lorena is not one to agree without a fight.
Rolling her shoulders, she cocks her head to address me. “Sir, I fail to see why you require a chef for your business affairs,” she says coolly.
“I have specific dietary requirements,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.
She looks up at me again, her eyebrows raised, but her words are sharp. “Following you on your personal or business trips isn’t part of my job requirements, sir.”
My blood heats, and my jaw is clenching slightly. My hand twitches at my side, but I force it to stay still.
“You will do whatever I tell you to do,” I manage through gritted teeth.
Lorena looks at me defiantly, narrowing her eyes. She doesn't speak for several seconds, and I can feel anger building in my chest as I wait for her to respond.
I don’t understand why she has a problem with it. Most chefs would leap at the chance to accompany me on such prestigious trips, showcasing their skills. But Lorena isn't like them. She's unlike any woman I've encountered before.
Leaning back in my seat, I observe her with a clouded gaze. “Why are you against this? Is it the same reason you don’t show your face on your Instagram? Are you hiding from the world?”
“I'm not hiding from anyone,” she replies casually, almost too casually.
“You use a fake name, and you never show your face,” I point out, studying her closely.
She looks unfazed by my accusations, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s actually telling the truth or if she’s a damn good actress.
Despite the doubts stemming from her background check, the clandestine phone call, and her anonymous online persona as a chef, I can't shake the feeling that she's hiding something—or perhaps I'm simply being paranoid.
I’m never paranoid. When I get a gut feeling, I never doubt it because it’s always right.
But with Lorena, nothing seems sure. Well, except for the attraction between us.
“Some people just don’t want fame, you know,” she says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Some of us just prefer a simple, quiet life.” That makes sense, although something about the way she says it makes it sound like a dig at my family’s wealth and fame.
“You seem to have a thing against famous people,” I say.
“Not at all,” she counters.
“But you seem to single me out?” I prod.
“I've never made such a claim, sir,” she says, her gaze undeterred as she stresses the ‘sir’.
“I see.”
I know there’s no more need for her to be here. She has gotten the message—she’ll be going with me on my business trip. Now is the best time to dismiss her. My mind screams it at me. But for some reason, I want to hear her talk, I want her around me. This is the first time we're alone together, and a part of me wants to savor this moment.
I nod, running a hand over my jaw. “So, it's because you're afraid to be alone with me,” I state bluntly.
She scoffs, crossing her arms across her chest. The movement draws my eyes to her chest, where the tops of her breasts are now more visible through the neckline of her nightgown.
“I am not scared of being alone with you,” she says defiantly.
I smirk. For the first time tonight, my words have a visible effect on her. It’s subtle, but I notice the way she tenses and how her eyes dart all over the room, looking everywhere else but at me.
“Really?” I drawl lowly.
She blows out a breath before she replies. “We are alone now, aren’t we? Do you see me cowering in fear?” she shoots back, her voice harder than before.
But I see right through her, and I know it’s all an act.
The moment she stands up to leave, I don't hesitate. Swiftly, I rise from my seat and easily cross over to her, closing the distance between us. Her eyes widen, following my movements intently as I stop mere inches away from her. Her breath hitches, and instinctively, she takes a step back.
I smile in satisfaction when I catch the flustered look on her face.
“What are you doing?” she asks breathlessly.
“Making you cower,” I declare, punctuating my words with another step forward, making her step back again until her back hits the bookshelf behind her. I’ve got her right where I want her.
Electricity cracks between us as I lift a finger and caress the side of her face. She shudders, and the reaction makes pleasure roll up my spine.
Up close, I make out her features better—her full lips, her perfect brows, her small nose and the light dusting of freckles above it, her long eyelashes and dark green eyes. Her blonde hair falls down to her waist, framing her flawless skin. She is fucking beautiful.
“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” A sharp gasp leaves her lips as my hand finds her waist, my thumb sliding slowly over her hipbones.
“How long I’ve wanted to get you alone and uninterrupted like this?” I whisper in her ear. Her smell envelops me, tickling my nostrils. I almost groan into the softness of her neck, breathing her in.
As if she can no longer fight it, she leans into me, her body relaxing under my touch.
“And what do you plan on doing to me now that you have me alone and undisturbed?” she asks, breathless. My dick instantly hardens at the sound of her soft voice. I bite her neck gently, eliciting a small sound from her, just like in my dream.
“I’d rather show you instead,” I say huskily.
My fingers find the hem of her nightgown to pull it off, but I don’t think I’ll be able to think straight if I have to see her completely naked in front of me.
I want to be in control here.
I slip my hands up underneath her dress instead, grabbing the flesh of her ass as I lift her. She immediately wraps her legs around my waist, burying her hands in my hair as I drag my teeth over her neck.
I walk over to my desk and dump her on it. She makes a low sound as I spread her legs and step between them. My hands slide up to cup her breasts, squeezing them as I look into her eyes. I almost groan at the feeling of her hardened nipples through the thin cotton material. And because I can’t resist, I bend down to softly bite the one clothed nipple.
Her lips part on an exhale, and she arches slightly toward me as she lets out a small moan. She reaches up and slides her hands out of her sleeves, letting her nightgown drop to her waist.
Shit. She is absolutely perfect in every way. My eyes roam over her body, taking in her pink nipples, her flat stomach, and her slim waist. Her skin glows under the dim lighting, and I groan before bending down to take one hardened nipple into my mouth.
“Leo,” she gasps, her fingers sliding into my hair.
The sound of my name on her lips, mixed with the feel of her fingers in my hair, drives me insane. With my tongue still swirling around her nipple, I drag my hands up her thigh under her dress, which is bunched at her waist.
Lorena’s breath hitches when my hand finds her wet sex. She shifts against my fingers, grinding up against me.
She’s so responsive, it’s driving me crazy.
“No panties?” I groan as I slip two fingers inside her.
“I sleep bare,” she mumbles incoherently.
Bending down to take her second breast into my mouth, I begin to slide my fingers in and out of her slick pussy. She moans, writhes, and grinds against my fingers. And I watch her with hazy eyes, drinking in her flushed cheeks, her blonde hair tangled around her face. I know this image will be engrained in my mind forever.
I resist a shudder when her hand travels under my pajama shirt, sliding against my abs and up to my chest.
“Oh, Leo,” she breathes, her soft voice caressing my ears as my fingers continue their rhythmic movements in and out of her.
I can't help but look at her, watching the way she reacts to my touch. I’m just fingering her, and yet it feels better than any sexual experience I’ve had.
My thumb comes up to graze her clit, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. I continue the soft caresses while my fingers continue to slip in and out of her. Soon, she’s moaning loudly again, digging her fingers into my shoulders as she arches off the desk.
Her body shakes, and I watch in pleasure as she clenches around my fingers, coming undone. Her wetness coats my fingers and trails down to my wrist as I slip my fingers out of her.
With dark eyes and rough pants, she watches me as I bring my fingers to my mouth and lick them clean.
“Go pack a bag. We leave first thing tomorrow morning,” I say before leaving her there, walking away so that I don’t answer to the demon inside me, telling me to flip her to her stomach and fuck her senseless against my desk.