His Exclusive Stripper: You Are Mine, Don

A brief silence ensued between us as we continued along the spacious corridor that held rooms with closed doors on both sides. The middle way was wide enough to contain extra rooms. The tiled floor beneath our feet shown with a gleam that said it was been scrubbed daily. Perhaps twice a day.

The walls were sparkling as well. Everything seemed perfectly in order. Antonio must be big on cleanliness, I reasoned. For each room we passed, I longed to slip behind the close doors and find out what it contained.

I wanted to pull each knob and fill my curiosity with the answer of wether he was hiding something dirty in there. If the rooms were securely closed then it only meant one thing. Why would one man have so many rooms anyways, if he wasn’t hiding something?

‘Don’t be stupid Eve, most wealthy men have extra rooms in their houses. It not unusual.’ I reprimanded myself.

Jacob paused at the last room on the corridor, fished out a bundle of keys from his pocket and inserted it into the door that stood before us. He fiddled with the lock for a while, before pushing open the door.

“Your room,” he pointed. “Let me know if there are any adjustments you might want us to make,” he added.

“Why would you care about what adjustments I want to make?”

“Cause the boss has given orders to ensure you’re comfortable and have everything that you want,” he bowed slightly.

I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped my lips. I brushed past him into the room, feeling the urgent need to seat down. I was impressed at how plush everything in the room looked. From the king sized bed, neatly laid, with thick, fluffy, pink sheets, to the sliky, floral sofa.

The window drapes were drawn halfway up, to let in sunlight. A dressing table sat at the corner of the room, with a Windsor chair facing the lengthy framed mirror on the table.

At the left side of the bed, was a wardrobe, with it’s door unhooked. A larva lamp sat on the drawer by the bedside, glowing mildly. The room was my entire apartment put together. The space felt so large, i could host a party in here if I wanted to.

“You not coming in, are you?” I turned to my so-called bodyguard that was mounted outside.

“No ma’am. There’s a telephone by the drawer, call if you need something. Dinner would be ready in an hour.” He turned to leave.

“Wait…” I called back, walking swiftly to the door. “Why are they so many rooms in here? Are they other people living here aside the boss? Wait… is he married? Or maybe engaged?”

The grin that appeared on the man’s face was an indication that I had made a fool of myself by asking those questions. What exactly was wrong with me anyways? How am I supposed to get the informations I need for Charlie if I keep asking questions that sounds funny?Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“You are an interesting little fellow. Now I see why the boss has a huge crush on you,” with that, he stalked off, not looking back.

“Wait… What! Your boss has a crush on me?” I wondered aloud.

“Get some rest Eve,” Jacob answered, still not sparing me a glance. His words bounced on the walls, echoing as he walked up through the part leading outside the corridor.

Now this is absurd. Little fellow? Antonio Bernoti having a crush on me. Perhaps Jacob was misunderstanding. I stood outside the door for a full minute, contemplating on his word.

Gosh! I hate this so-called bodyguard. Why was he been so tight-lipped with words. It would be near impossible getting any vital information from the men around here. From the look of things, there are dead loyal to Antonio.

A door opened at the far end of the corridor to reveal Antonio. He was bare chest, with sweat glistening from his skin. His dark hair was tousled into a curly mess that fell over his face, giving him the look of an ancient Indian God. His grey eyes caught mine and held them for a moment, neither of us blinking. I wanted to trail my eyes along the firm abs and muscles that formed his body, yet, I kept my eyes locked in his.

The moment I blinked, he was gone. He had disappeared into an adjoining room without a word, leaving me stupified. I hurried into my room, slamming the door hard enough to make it rattle. I hauled myself over the large bed that dipped with my weight. Indeed, it felt comfortable. I looked around, surveying the room for the ultimate time. Everything was right except for the pink sheets.

It looked too girly and I didn’t like it. Simply because I’m a girl doesn’t make pink my default favorite color. I would tell that to my so-called bodyguard the next time I see him. For the main time, I decided to explore my new abode.

I rose up, heading for the wardrobe, it contained a few dresses that were most certainly my size, three pairs of shoes lay on the floor of the wardrobe. A snicker, a heel sandal and a pair of bathing shoes. But who exactly owned them? This room probably belonged to his ex, or was it just a special room kept for any female that came into the house? And I happen to be among the list of such girls now.

I picked out a pink robe, then on a second thought, threw it back into the wardrobe settling for a white towel instead. I pulled off my clothes, wrapping the towel around myself, I walked towards the bathroom. Even the warm water from the shower felt snug.

I was drying up my hair when a knock sounded from the door. I paused midway considering who it could be. Maybe my so-called bodyguard? He had mentioned that dinner would be ready in an hour, perchance, he had decided to bring it to my room? The knock sounded again, announcing that whoever was behind the door wasn’t gone yet.

“A minute,” I called out. This was a wrong timing, my hair was wet and looked disheveled. I rushed to the mirror, then to the wardrobe, thinking quickly of what to throw on my body.

No… definitely not the pink robe, I argued within myself. It would take a few more minutes to get dressed in any of the other dresses that hung shapely on the hangers. The knock came a third time, and this time, the door burst open alongside.

“What took you so long?” The ever so familiar voice brought me to a halt in the middle of my search for a cover.

I turned around to face him at once, my heart doing the usual thumping dance that had become accustomed to his presence. My hands gripping tight the edge of the towel that was folded on my chest and stopped a little too high around my thighs. I felt literally naked standing before him in that way. I prayed silently for his eyes to remain on my face.

I couldn’t bring myself to speak, couldn’t gather together my thoughts, when his eyes were watching me so intensely, as if searching my soul. They slowly moved down, I could tell he was drinking in the view of my thighs, and the knowledge made me feel hot all over.

“Get dressed, we’re going down for dinner,” his eyes finally came up.

I sighed in relief when he backed away, but my joy was short-lived. He walked over to the floral sofa and settled comfortably into it. “Do you like your room?” He asked casually.

“Except for the many pink color around, yeah,” I was glad my voice sounded firm, not as liquid as my inside.

“Oh,” he replied.

What was that even supposed to mean? Is he always this terribly at a keeping conversation flowing? I tightened my grip around the towel, hoping to God that he would excuse me to dress.

“You’re not dressed yet,” he observed after a while.

“No I’m not. If you could excuse me maybe I’d get that done.” I was proud of myself for sounding so confident.

“You’re in my house,” he bragged.

“I didn’t beg to be here,” I fired back.

“You didn’t?” He straightened on the chair. “You willingly accepted my offer, remember?” He reminded me.

Damn Charlie, I cursed. “I did accept your offer, but I could very well have worked for you from my home, you insisted I stay here,”

“Doesn’t that tell you something, Eve dear?” He was standing from the chair.

“What?” My voice came out more as a whisper. The beating of my heart became too loud, I could almost hear it echoing in the room. I wondered if he heard it too.

“That I always get what I want,” he was standing right next to me, his finger raised towards my wet hair, he trailed a drop of water down to my neck, then stopped.

“Dress up, now!” The causality in his tone was gone, replaced by the devilish deepness of his voice.