Unravel Me

“Keep it simple. You can’t go wrong with pizza.”

Shooting me an exaggerated eye roll, he rifled through one of the drawers and pulled out a menu. Judging by the name of the restaurant, it was something Italian and most certainly not pizza. He disappeared to his office without asking me what I wanted. I made myself comfortable in the museum-like living room. The couch cushions were so puffy I had a feeling I was the only one to ever sit on them. I was afraid to touch anything. Even the remote control for the flat screen television looked unused. The only thing in here that had any personal feel to it was the photo he’d taken of Big Ben with a red bus driving past it.

I smiled to myself, wondering what he was going to do with the pictures he’d taken of me last night. It wasn’t too big of a stretch to think he’d display them somewhere in the house. Preferably the bedroom. Although from my understanding nobody ever came here so he could blow the pictures up poster sized and hang them all over the house if he wanted. Silly, silly thoughts.

“You look like the cat that got the cream,” he remarked, striding through the room. “I’m going to pick up the food. It’s just down the street so I won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable.”

I grabbed the remote and stretched out on the couch, saluting him. “Yes, sir.”

His gaze darkened as he hovered over me. “Be careful, kitten. I could get used to you saying that.”

Spurred on by the heated stare leveled at me, I ran a finger down his shirt. “Is that so, Mr. Holden?”

“Vixen,” he muttered, nipping at my earlobe. “I’ll deal with you when I come back.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Wow.” The throaty laugh I loved so much filled the room. “Someone is extra feisty tonight.”

I heard him chuckling all the way to the door. Once he was gone, I decided to take another self-guided tour of his house. Strolling past the master bedroom and home office, I noticed a closed door at the far end of the hallway. I twisted the doorknob and was surprised to find it locked. My curiosity shot off the charts. I figured it was a second bedroom but why keep it under lock and key? What is he hiding now? Scolding myself for always assuming the worst, I went to his bedroom. The camera sat on his bureau. I grabbed it, turned on the preview screen and almost dropped it.

A picture of me sleeping popped up. Thank goodness I wasn’t slack jawed or drooling in the photo. I actually looked quite peaceful with one hand curled under my chin. Taking a deep breath, I scrolled through more photos. They were all of me. He must have taken a dozen while I was sleeping. The rest were from when he’d been lurking by the door.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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