Page 44 of Forbidden Mistress

While I’m waiting for Haley to respond, I step into the bathroom—and I’m instantly overwhelmed. It looks like a damn resort spa in here. It’s huge, first of all, and the floor and countertops glisten with a gray stone or tile that makes it look modern and sleek. But the bathtub…the bathtub. It’s a large freestanding tub positioned in front of a set of French doors that open up onto a balcony.

This is a whole new level of wealth that I’ve never been exposed to before. I grew up with a dad who had money and never wanted for anything—though things seemed tougher in the later years. But even with my privileged childhood, I could never even envision this kind of luxury.

I glance at the separate shower and decide against using it. Instead, I fill the tub, grab my lukewarm coffee and croissant, and enjoy them while soaking in the tub with the amazing view. The window isn’t facing the ocean, but we’re so close to the beach that I can hear the waves crashing. It’s like real-life ASMR. It’s incredible, and if I lived here, this would absolutely be my morning routine. Coffee and pastry in the tub, listening to the ocean. Heaven.

I’m all pruny when I finally decide to get out of the tub, which has an internal heater to keep the water warm, by the way. After drying off, I grab my phone and see a reply from Haley. She has class in an hour, but she’s going to head over once she’s done. Girls’ day. I’m so excited.

Okay, so. Clothes. I arrived last night wearing a skimpy wrap dress. I can’t exactly wear that while walking around Exeter House. It’s clear the people here have their dark and kinky secrets, but on the outside, it’s very upper crust. Very polished. Which means I’ll need something else to wear.

Picking up Hart’s note, I try calling the number he left. It takes me two tries to get the right number, but when I finally do, Celeste’s cheery voice comes through. “Good morning, Ms. Fitzgerald. How can I be of assistance?”

“Um, yeah. I was wondering if you could grab some clothes for me?”

I know Exeter House has boutique designer clothing stores downstairs. It’s a fully functioning community. A delightful and heavenly combination of shopping mall, spa, hair salon, restaurants, clubs. In a way, you wouldn’t ever have to leave if you don’t want to.

“Absolutely,” she chirps.

I give her my size and the styles I’m looking for, and she promises to have the clothes for me within the hour. When I hang up, I smile to myself. Amazing. I could really get used to this.

Forty-five minutes later, Celeste is at the door. I’m barefoot, and wearing one of the plush white robes I found in the bathroom cabinet.

“Good morning!” She smiles like we’ve been besties forever. I already love her.

“Hey, thanks for helping me out on such short notice. I really appreciate it.”

I open the door wider, and Celeste walks in with several garment bags slung over her arm. She’s followed by a bellboy, who is pushing a cart full of more clothes, all dangling from hangars. Once the cart is wheeled in, Celeste turns to the bellboy. “Thank you, Thomas.”

The young kid, no older than eighteen, nods awkwardly and leaves.

Celeste is quite young with sleek brown hair and wide green eyes. Stunning. She’s wearing a white blouse, black slacks and a pair of red heels. She looks fabulous, so I guess I lucked out. She’s the perfect person to pick out my outfit for the day.

Celeste claps her hands together. “So,” she says excitedly. “Let’s get started. I brought a variety of styles, depending on your particular tastes.”

I show Celeste into the bedroom, and she glances around in awe. “I’ve always wanted to see this penthouse. It’s beautiful.”

“You’ve never been inside?” I ask, surprised. I dip into the closet to put one of the dresses on.

“Nope. Mr…” She hesitates. “Your host is usually out of town, and when he is here, he normally keeps to himself.”

I don’t know why it matters in the long run, but the fact that he doesn’t have a stream of girls coming and going from his penthouse fills me with relief. He does seem more introverted in real life. But the fact is, Willow was here when I arrived. And she looked pretty damn comfortable. So he obviously has some women here. At least occasionally.

I come out of the closet and pivot for Celeste. “What do you think?” I ask.

The dress is a simple, champagne-colored with a low but tasteful neckline. It’s perfect for going to lunch with the girls, or even just walking around Exeter House.

“I love it!” she says. “And…” She holds a finger up as she dips into the rotunda, where the cart is parked. When she reenters the room, she’s holding a cloth bag with the name Jimmy Choo on the front. “I took the liberty of picking out shoes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, my God, no. Thank you. How did you know my size?” I ask.

“Your host gave us your dimensions this morning,” she answers.

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m stunned silent. He gave them my dimensions? How? Did he measure me while I slept? Or…wait, he probably glanced at the tag sewed into the seam of my dress. And my shoes aren’t terribly expensive. The size is still on the sticker on the inside sole. I’d meant to peel it off, but never got around to it.

“Well, I guess there are benefits to dating a type A personality,” I laugh.

I pick out a few more things from the pile of clothes she brought. She had the foresight to bring some lacy black lingerie, which is awesome, because I don’t own anything fancier than the black lace bra and panties I wore last night. And the underthings are so gorgeous. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had the opportunity to buy something so beautiful and so impractical. None of my boyfriends ever gave a flying fuck about what I was wearing in the bedroom. All they wanted was to get me naked, tits and ass. Most of them took five minutes, and they were good to go. Hart’s lovemaking was so different. Yes, it was more dominating, but the way he took his time. The way he savored the experience and slowed me down to savor it too…He takes his time with me, in no rush to finish it. I get the sense that he’s attuned to my body on a level that borders on obsessive. It’s just completely different from what I’ve ever known before.

That’s the dream, right? Too bad this is all so temporary.

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