14. Henri
HENRI
A fter our long luxurious shower, which resulted in another orgasm for me as well as one for Remington, he chose an outfit for me—black pants that hugged me perfectly and a soft, honest-to-God cashmere sweater in a shade of teal he said was just right for my eyes.
He also offered me a buttery soft leather jacket since it was chilly, at least by New Orleans’s standards.
Remington dressed in gray pants and a white cable knit sweater that made his tan skin look even darker. After one last look in the mirror, he took my hand to lead me downstairs. “Don’t you need a jacket?”
He smiled back at me. “I don’t let weather dictate my fashion choices.”
I rolled my eyes and followed him down the narrow staircase.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he closed the front door behind us.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“You like surprising me, don’t you?”
He studied me for a moment. “Why do I feel like there are a lot of layers to that question?”
I grinned. “I don’t know. I’m just a simple guy.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “No. You definitely are not.”
I tried not to get too excited by the idea that Remington saw more of me than the asshole who dumped me when my mom got sick, more than my cousin who thought giving me a way to make a quick buck was true friendship, and so much more than any of the other men who’d hired me.
Everyone saw what they wanted to, and they took what they could get.
It wasn’t that Remington wasn’t willing to take; it was just that he so obviously knew there was more to me, and that made it easier to give him exactly what he wanted.
He was exactly the kind of man I’d fantasized about but didn’t think existed in reality, but if I was with him long enough, I’d surely see some side of him that would make him real, not fantastical.
That wasn’t going to happen right now, though, because he was leading me to Café DuMonde. “You’re taking me to get beignets?”
He smiled. “Yes, I decided you needed to experience them directly from the source.”
He found us a table under the green-and-white-striped awning. Within seconds a waitress appeared. Her wide eyes and the way it took her a few minutes to start talking let me know she was enamored with Remington, and why wouldn’t she be?
“Two orders of beignets and two cafe au laits,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a smile and a quick once-over, then hurried off.
I was grinning when he looked at me.
“What?”
“You do realize how incredibly hot you are, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“So it’s normal for you to be fawned over?”
He laughed. “Yes. I can’t say I dislike it.”
“Well, I do.” The words were out of my mouth before I thought them through clearly. “I mean… it makes me feel like I’m not doing a good enough job to distract you. That’s what you hired me for, right?”
“Cher, for these two weeks, you are the only man who’s going to be in my bed. I told you I was going to work you hard. That’s because you’re going to be fulfilling all my needs.”
I swallowed hard. “I can do that.”
He looked at me, eyes warm and full of lust. “I believe you can.”
Our coffee and beignets came a moment later.
I tried to focus on the sugary treats instead of my nerves.
I hoped Remington really wouldn’t want more than I could give.
I wasn’t all that experienced, and I had no doubt he was used to men who knew exactly what they were doing whether they were professionals or not.
He had seemed to enjoy himself when we were together, though, and he’d asked me to stay and promised to pay me an astonishing amount.
I would do whatever was necessary to be the man he wanted. I just wished… No, I couldn’t let myself think a man like him would want to have a real relationship with me. He could have anyone he wanted.
When we were finished and Remy had paid our bill, he stood and held out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me from my seat as if I weighed nothing.
“Are we heading back to your house?”
Remington shook his head. “No, I have more plans for us.”
“Don’t you have to work today?”
“I decided you had a good point. I’m in charge, and I can say when I work and when I don’t, so I’m taking today off.”
I stared at him. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. I want to show you my city.”
He said the words as if he truly held ownership over the vibrant place. Maybe with his money and power from whatever surely not-legal activities he was involved in, he felt like he did. “Why?”
“Because I work too fucking much.”
“No, I totally understand why you want a day off. You deserve one from what you’ve told me, but why do you want to show me around New Orleans?”
“You said you haven’t had a chance to explore the city.”
“But you could do anything on your day off.”
“That’s right, and this is what I want to do.” He turned and started walking. I had no choice but to follow him.
There had to be things he’d rather do, but I certainly wasn’t going to turn him down.
The fact that he’d made plans based on what I wanted further confused my already mixed-up feelings.
I told myself I should work on keeping more distance between us.
My heart wasn’t going to survive him treating me like a guest instead of an employee.
We walked along Decatur Street for a few blocks, then he stopped in front of a rundown-looking building that was probably well over a hundred years old.
The sign on the door said Lefebre Books.
The window display contained stacks of old books with antiquated-sounding titles like Miss Beaton’s Book of Household Management and Toilers in London: Or, Inquiries Concerning Female Labour in the Metropolis along with Mardi Gras beads, masks, and other things tourists would associate with New Orleans.
Through the window, I also saw shelves stuffed full of books and more piles of books stacked on the floor by upholstered armchairs and antique wooden chairs.
It looked like a place where you could find a secret entrance to a magical world.
This was New Orleans after all. Surely if magic existed anywhere, it was here.
“This is one of my favorite places in the city,” Remington said.
I stared at him, surprised once again.
“Just like you, I’m not a simple man.”
“I know that. I’d already guessed it, but then I looked around your house yesterday.” I paused, suddenly nervous. He’d told me it was fine, but what if…
“Did you find anything interesting?”
“Your books.” I wanted to mention the cello, but I just couldn’t. The music room seemed like a private space. “And the cozy chair in the little sunroom. I wanted to curl up in it.
“You’re welcome to. When we get back, maybe we both will. Find something you like, and I’ll read it to you.
My heart pounded as he opened the door and we both stepped inside.