Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Obviously, it doesn’t do any good to lock my door. Yet, if the only thing the intruders are going to do is bring me presents, why should I be upset? I climb out of bed to stretch. There’s a big picture window behind me with a glorious view of the pool.
I was impressed last night when Francisco took me on a tour, but I didn’t say anything. Those lounge chairs look super comfortable, and the landscaping is spectacular. I’m almost upset I didn’t pack a bathing suit. A morning dip would put me in an excellent mood. But then I remember I’m supposed to be angry.
Brandon is still missing, and it’s all Francisco’s fault. Well, not all his fault, I tell myself. Maybe it’s a little bit the fault of my father’s enemies. I just wish that I could have gotten to Brandon before the bad guys did. It might have taken some encouragement, but surely I would have been able to convince him to run away with me.
Yet, looking at the situation in the bright light of morning, I can see that’s just another hopeful dream. The truth is that Brandon would never have listened to me. He wouldn’t have wanted to give up his college dorm life, no matter what the cost. There was little I could do to stop this tragedy from unfolding, and even less that Francisco could have done.
“I’m still mad,” I say out loud, as if to convince myself that I have permission to be upset.
I go to the bathroom to investigate the damage from the plane ride. My hair is still tangled, but a good night’s sleep has restored my skin tone. I find a toiletries bag sitting on the bathroom counter, full of all kinds of things I didn’t buy. There are makeup wipes and cold cream, foundation, and at least a dozen different shades of lipstick. Someone is looking out for me.
I spend a quick ten minutes getting my face ready, and then I turn to the presents that have been left on my doorstep. There’s no note, but I know where they came from. Francisco obviously bought them or had someone else buy them.
The shopping bags are lined up against the wall. I look at them with scorn, knowing they were just a ruse to get me to the airport. Still, some of the dresses are outstanding, and I guess I’ll wear them since I don’t have anything else.
I grab one of the suitcases and haul it to the bed. It’s a fancy bag with a designer label. Of course, nothing substandard is allowed to enter Francisco’s homes. I unzip it, and to my delight, I find that it’s full of more clothes. Most importantly, there are three bikini bathing suits in delicate crepe paper, nestled right in the middle of the bag.
I pull one out and hold it up to the light. It’s a man’s dream, with barely enough fabric to cover my essentials. I roll my eyes. Of course, Francisco would plan for this eventuality. I wonder how long it took him to order his staff to go out and buy it. I’m surprised he didn’t think of it back home when we were at the department store. Of course, this bathing suit looks like it costs a fortune, so it’s obviously not commercially made.
I look out the window at the pool and bite my lip. Should I? Do I dare? What could it hurt? I have no illusions anymore about the man I’m going to marry. He made it clear that he’ll do whatever it takes to get his way. He’s not above dragging me onto a plane, kicking and screaming, and he won’t take me home no matter how much I protest.
But I also know that he’ll keep his hands to himself unless I give him explicit permission. I was the one who made the first move in the office. I was the one who needed to forget the situation I was in, who was insatiable, who kept our passion moving forward at breakneck speed once I got a taste.
He was ready, willing, and able, but he resisted entirely until I broke the ice. So, putting on this bathing suit and going outside to swim in the pool doesn’t mean anything. If he sees me, then I’ll just ignore him. I don’t have to pretend to forgive him just to take advantage of the amenities in his villa.
Making up my mind, I slip out of the clothes I was wearing on the plane. I didn’t even bother to change into pajamas the night before because I was so tired. I also didn’t want to give Francisco the satisfaction of wearing the pajamas he bought for me. It seems petty now. Francisco wasn’t even in the room, and he wouldn’t have known that I went to bed in my travel clothes. The whole thing seems silly.