Page 37 of The Woman

“I . . .” Creases form between his brows again, though I don’t know that they were ever truly gone. “I’m not sure.”

I study his face, trying to get a read on him, but he makes it hard.

A tickling sensation has me looking down in front of me to find his fingers playing with a section of my hair. Following my line of sight, his fingers freeze as if he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

I look up again, and gray eyes clash with mine. He may say he’s not sure what he’s going to do with me, but his actions say otherwise.

Our gazes hold, and just like the night of the gala, it feels as if he might just lean down and kiss me.

And if I’m being honest, I want him to.

The space around us grows into something thick and electrified. His eyes drop to my lips, and I wait.

But he doesn’t kiss me.

After dropping my hair, he takes a step back. “Is there something specific you’d like to eat for dinner?”

The sudden change has my mind taking a second to catch up, but once it does and I realize he’s giving me a choice, the opportunity to pick something that I want, my insides light up and flutter about, even with it being something as simple as dinner.

“I can pick anything I want?”

“Anything,” he replies.

I nibble on my bottom lip, contemplating all of my options. Maybe food I’ve seen but haven’t tasted.

“A hamburger always looked really good,” I finally answer.

“You’ve never eaten one before?” At the shake of my head, he adds, “We’ll change that then.”

He starts walking toward the kitchen, slipping out of his suit jacket and tugging off his tie with me trailing behind, then drapes them over the back of a chair. I watch as he pulls out various ingredients and then rolls up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, revealing a set of defined forearms.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

I realize the question is the same as what I’d ask him in the past when he’d grumble out a no, and from the scowl forming on his face, I’d say he’s assuming the wrong thing.

“I meant as in helping with dinner,” I add.

“Go sit down.”

My back straightens at the blunt and bossy way he ordered me, but when he adds a “please,” I follow his direction and take a seat on the other side of the breakfast bar.

“How did you spend your days at the facility?” he asks while starting to mix the egg, breadcrumbs, and spices into the bowl with the beef. For some reason, I’m drawn to the way his forearms flex and move with the action.

“We’re mainly taught things that will please a man or skills we might need while living with one. Each day is structured. Every Monday morning was sewing lessons, followed by walking the perimeter of the lawns for daily exercise.” I’m not sure why, but it was my favorite when it rained. It made me feel alive somehow. I keep that tidbit to myself, though. “Then, in the afternoon, it was sex education and things men like done in bed.”

His hands pause for a moment, and the clock ticks loudly in the background as I wait for any other type of reaction from him.

I want him to react.

I don’t know why exactly, but maybe it’s because my main reason for being here is to please him, and he hasn’t let me.

When he proceeds with flattening the patties and gives me nothing else, I continue, “Tuesdays were another set of activities, and so on. Depending on which wing you were in determined what activities you did on which day. But it was the same each week.”

“Sounds very educational,” Phoenix says with a nod.

“It was boring.” Surprised, Phoenix’s eyes shoot up to mine, a curious look on his face. “For someone like me, it’s boring. So when I was picked, besides being nervous, I was excited.”

Except I was then left to do nothing in this penthouse. I spent my days rearranging things to look better, reading, playing the piano, and looking through his stuff. I craved those moments when he’d come home and give me any sort of attention, even if it was with grumbling.

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