Chapter 15
Florian
Next morning, I go outside and drag some water up from the well to wash my shirt.
Calling up the memory of last night still makes me shiver.
I keep replaying it over and over, the heat between us, the ecstasy as I came.
Especially my boss putting the blanket over me and looking at me so tenderly.
I’m lost to the world, and only notice him approach when he’s right in front of me.
“Oh, hello, Boss.” I give him a big, morning-after smile. “Do you have anything you want me to wash for you?”
He looks uncomfortable, avoiding looking at my shirt.
“I do my own laundry,” he says, his voice jerky. Embarrassed. “Anyway, I didn’t think those aristocratic hands would be up for extra laundry duty. They’re going to get all rough.”
I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or actually concerned about it.
“Another thing,” he says. “We’re having Breta and her family over for dinner tonight, and you’re going to apologize for making a spectacle of yourself the last time.”
If he’s trying to get me to be sensible looming over me while I’m on my knees scrubbing the cum out of my shirt that he drew from me while he spanked the shit out of me… well, maybe that isn’t the way to do it.
“Yes, Boss,” I say, head on one side.
“Do you mind not taking that tone?” he growls.
The more flirtatious I get, the rougher his voice becomes. He’s going to injure his vocal cords if he keeps this up. He holds out a hand and pulls me to my feet, so hard I almost overbalance. I guess I’d better behave, a little, before he really gets mad.
“So what should I cook tonight?” I ask, drying my hands.
He grunts, scratching under his hood, his eyes stubbornly on a cactus at the other side of the yard. “Your Galbravan stew is pretty good.”
My everything is pretty good, but I refrain from saying so. He’s still scowling darkly. Is this more than embarrassment after last night? Is he really annoyed at me?
“Boss, you don’t think I was just toying with Prevana, do you?” I ask. “Like some… some callous duke who toys with his servants and then leaves them?”
He finally looks at me. His eyes weigh me up in that steady way of his. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you seem really annoyed with me.”
He crosses his arms. “You say you weren’t toying with her. But could you see yourself with her in the long-term?”
So he does disapprove. I knew it.
“That doesn’t mean I was using her. We were both having fun.” I spread out my hands. “That’s all there is to it.”
“I’ll never understand that,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Being so casual about these things.”
I blink, feeling hurt. He’s making me feel like a slut, and not in the fun way like last night.
“I’ll apologize, but I really don’t think Prevana is going to be heartbroken,” I say.
“Why so sure?”
“For one, because she knows I’m not a free agent right now. She knows you have me under lock and key.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” he says, scowling at the cactus again.
“Is it? You know Galbravan law as well as I do. Anyway, she knew it was nothing serious. She’s not some lovestruck teenager dreaming about marrying me after one kiss, Boss. She’s an adult. Not that much younger than me.”
“How old are you, anyway?” he demands, out of nowhere.
“Twenty-five. How old are you?”
He looks away again. “None of your damn business.”
“You could say ‘I’d rather not answer’. You don’t have to yell. It makes you look defensive, you know.”
He takes a deep, exasperated breath. “All right, then. I’d rather not answer.”
“Can I guess?” I suggest, sidling close.
Even though he’s so prickly, there’s something about riling him up that I just can’t resist. Maybe it’s because he’s so prickly.
As well as annoyance, I enjoy seeing how much confused attraction I can provoke in those dark eyes.
He’s definitely confused about me. And he’s definitely attracted.
I wonder why he fights it so much. Why not just give in?
But I guess that isn’t in his character.
He’s way too proud of that iron self-control.
“You can guess my age if you think it’d be good for your health,” he growls.
“Okay. Forty?”
“Forty!” His outrage is worth it, even if he makes me clean the house from top to bottom as punishment.
“I was kidding.” I hold up my hands, laughing at him. “Thirty?”
“Thirty-five,” he grunts. There’s a pleased gleam in his eyes. He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at the ground. He scrabbles at the dirt with the worn toe of his work boot. All at once he looks like someone much younger, someone unused to compliments.
“You look good,” I say sincerely. “Of course, you should probably start a proper skincare regime to keep yourself looking good even longer. I have a few products I could lend you.”
“How do you know I don’t have a regime right now?”
“Lucky guess.” I point to his chapped lips. “Lip salve would be the first priority if I were you.”
“Florian, let me assure you that my lips are never going to be a topic of relevance for you,” he says.
“Okay, okay. Just a suggestion.”
He makes another wordless growling sound and stalks toward the house. I run after him, laughing to myself. He might’ve decided I’ll never get a taste of those lips. But I’m still working on it.
“You know what would make you look ten years younger overnight?” I venture, catching up.
“What?”
“Taking down the hood.”
He stares me down for a full thirty seconds, his dark eyes like angry stormclouds.
“Try that, and I might actually hit you,” he says.