“I’ll call you back!” He hangs up and stands taller, watching me without blinking.
I run to him and kiss him on the mouth, climbing his body and holding his face tight between my hands. He staggers for a moment but then wraps my legs around him, his hand fisting in my hair. His kiss is angry. He bites my lips with a growl. I bite him back. Then, slowly our tongues take over in soothing, soft strokes.
I pull away, more light-headed than I have ever been in Denton’s lab. “You’re a wonderful man,” I tell him.
The V between his eyebrows deepens as though he doesn’t think he belongs in the same sentence as the word wonderful. “Did you sniff some of Cora’s cleaning chemicals, Elisa? I’ve told her to use only biodegradable materials.”
“No, just your cologne. That’s all, Aiden.” I hop out of his arms and sprint back to the bedroom before I say something that will earn me a permanent restraining order.
*
Two hours later, my hair washed and dried, I pick up the knickers Aiden bought me. Actually, calling them knickers is an insult. Masterpiece fits better. My belly starts tightening as I slide on the turquoise lace-and-organza artwork and matching bra. Will the lingerie he buys me always do this? I hope so.
I avoid the mirror until the last minute after I zip up the dress and fluff the layers. Then, with a deep breath, I turn slowly and look at myself. The woman gaping at me is not my mum. She is shiny, bright, her eyes almost lilac. She is someone I used to know—but better. I twirl on the spot, twice, three times, laughing. The turquoise layers span around me like a rose opening in time lapse. I teeter out of the restroom, careful on my new, silver Louboutin heels, wishing there was something I could give back to Aiden. What do you give the man who has everything? Hmm, I’ll have to ponder this.
I pass by the painting room, making a note to remind Javier that his supplies are still here. We don’t want Feign thinking Javier stole them. The flickering lights precede me down the hall. With my new eyes, I stop abruptly where I am—by the piano in the living room. If Aiden needs warning even to this degree, I should be afraid. I really should, just like he told me. All it would take is barging in somewhere while he has his eyes closed. Or jumping him the next time he takes my breath away. But there is a deep loneliness behind this safety measure, a loneliness that propels my feet forward and suddenly, I’m running. Not to the front door, but to his library.
I almost collide with the closed door in my madness but his voice inside rescues me. It’s an odd mixture of frustration and regret.
“What is your malfunction, Cal?”
I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. He sounds just like Reagan.
“I don’t know if I’m coming yet, all right?… Yes, I know it’s a tradition… Why?… As a matter of fact, that’s exactly why… You might win because I’m sure I’ll fuck it up…suck camel dick…fuck off.”
Suck camel dick? Poor camel. He slams the phone down and I hear some mumbling, no doubt more profanities. I take a deep breath, knocking with impatience, not fear. How different I feel in front of this door now than two days ago!
“Aiden?”
Some scrambling of papers. “Yes, come in, Elisa.”
I open the door, and there he is. More wit-shattering than ever in a tailored navy suit, white shirt and no tie. The defined muscles of his neck form a sculpted V that disappears beneath the open collar of his shirt. He looks like he causes wars, not fights them.
He is stacking some papers in neat, precise angles. But the moment he looks at me, he drops them. The loose pages miss the desk and fly everywhere but he doesn’t blink. He stares at me for a good fifteen seconds, mouthing something that looks very much like “holy fuck”. I resist the urge to take a bow and hand out autographs. It’s great being a woman.
He starts strolling toward me, eyes on fire. He stops only when he is close, so close that there is no space for air between us. Then, slowly, he dips me over his arm so that my throat is exposed and presses his lips there once.
“You look so beautiful.” His voice is almost pained. I know the feeling—the sense that you are beholding something so wondrous that it could not have been meant for you.
“As do you,” I whisper. I feel his smile against my skin as his lips start fluttering over my collarbones and my exposed shoulders. Suddenly, the corset is too tight. I want to rip it open.
“Do you want me to beat up whoever was making you upset on the phone?” I start babbling so that I don’t tear off my dress and undo all my hard work.
He chuckles against my skin and pulls back. “No, I don’t want you to beat him up. In fact, I don’t want you anywhere near him because he has a really filthy mind.”
“Jealousy from you, Aiden?” I smile, wondering when jealousy became attractive to me.