“What does that mean? And what are you doing?” I clung to his shoulders so as not to fall while he walked towards the elevator.
“Taking you home so you can rest. You must be tired after traveling. And now, with a sore ankle, you need to lie down.” His eyes were kind as he looked at me. “And before, I told my crew to get back to work,” his accent was stronger now, but it was obvious he’d been in the US a long time. His English was perfect.
I huffed but hung on. “This is so weird. I’m sorry about the painting and the mess, and now I’ve busted my ankle and I’m supposed to be this spectacular muse.”
“Oh, you are most spectaculaire, the finest features, and your face in two is a perfect mirror image,” he said as if this was the most astonishing news, though I didn’t really understand.
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean by a mirror image.”
One of Alec’s men in black followed us into the elevator carrying my single suitcase and pressed button twelve, which was the highest number on the panel. He didn’t answer my question as we exited the elevator, and he carried me into another wide-open loft. It was the same size as the level we were on before, only this was complete with a kitchen, living space, and a set of stairs that I assumed led to a raised loft bedroom. There weren’t any walls, other than in the corner with a door. If I was a betting woman, which I am—my dad taught me everything he knew about gambling—I’d bet that door led to a single bathroom.
He brought me to that door, and yep, it was a bathroom. I hopped on one foot to the sink when he let me go. Out of thin air, my bag appeared, and Alec rifled through it, pulling out a shirt and a pair of pajama shorts.
“Here, put these on. I’ll get a bag for your clothes.” Within moments he returned and handed me a garbage bag.
“You’ll be okay?” he asked, a hand curled around the door knob.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” I could feel my cheeks heat as he shut the door.
Stupid, stupid, stupid klutz! As quickly as possible I trashed the jeans and shirt covered in paint and put on the shirt and shorts. Once done, I washed off as much paint as I could see. I’d need a full shower, but right now, I needed to settle things with my client, gauge his mood, see if he was angry with me.
When I opened the bathroom door he was there and swept me into his arms again.
“Ooophf!” I gasped as he carried me then sat me down on a plush velvet sectional in the deepest purple known to man. So dark it was almost black, though if you ran your hand over it, the fibers shifted and left a much lighter eggplant shade. Once I was situated comfortably, foot on the ottoman in front of me, Alec lifted his leg and straddled the ottoman, pulling my sore ankle into his lap. I leaned forward and held my leg at the sides not knowing how to respond to a man who touched with abandon.
“Now, your question, about mirror images?”
I nodded and bit my lip. He lifted a hand and with one finger traced the center of my face from the hairline at my forehead, over my nose, down between my lips and stopping at my chin. A shiver rippled through me at his heated touch, or was it the sultry way he looked at me as if I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Wes looked at me like that. Hell, Wes made me feel that way. A pang of guilt needled at me, but I shoved it away. Wes and me, we were not an item. Friends with benefits absolutely…with the hope of more. One day. Maybe. Not today.
“If you cut your face down the middle here,” he traced my face again with the pad of his finger, his eyes seemingly lost in his task, “each side would mirror the other.”
I frowned. “So would anyone’s.”
His hand cupped my cheek, long fingers twining through the dark tresses to cup the back of my nape. “Yes, ma jolie, but they would not be symmetrical. Your face, it’s perfection. Equal on both sides. Neither better nor worse than the other. It’s unusual. Astonishing. You are unique,” Alec’s faced dipped close and he pressed a warm kiss to each cheek. “Tomorrow, we start work, oui? Today, you rest.” He placed my swollen ankle onto the ottoman after setting a pillow under it. “I must work now,” he said moving around as if he was already distracted by the tasks ahead.
Interesting guy, Alec Dubois.
***