Page 28 of To Hell

I want to say something to that, but Zoe has my apt attention, and everything else pales out.

“I want to take your measurements, that is if you would…” she clears her throat. “It’s necessary.” She drops her eyes, something I want her to fucking stop doing when talking to me, “For the suit,” she mumbles.

I don’t care about such things. I could easily pick up anything from a store to wear. But I wanted her to stop wondering why I bought her. This way, she can think I got her because of the outfits.

“Okay,” I go over to my desk and put down my whiskey glass.

“O… Okay?” Shock shimmers in her eyes, “D… Do you want me to do it here?”

Sensible question.

Cesare is not the only one who can come in here unannounced. My mother can also waltz in here any time of the day, and I don’t have the energy for her prodding. I’m a little surprised she has kept herself away for longer than seventy-two hours.

“No, we will do it in my room,” I answer.

And the danger alert goes off in my head.

Chapter Sixteen

ZOE

In his room.

“Here,” I hand him my sketchbook with trembling hands as we step out of the study. “You choose. I made three sketches, and I think there will…” I keep quiet as he takes the sketchbook from me.

He is unnerving.

Just being close to him always makes my stomach flip and my blood feel like it’s freezing in my veins.

I dry my hands on the fabric of my dress and hold my breath as he keeps looking through the sketches while leading the way down the hallway. He takes a left turn, and then just one dim gold light comes on as we take another turn.

I follow him, my legs trembling.

He pushes a door open and enters a room. I stop by the door, feeling like a nervous wreck, scared to be in the same room with him, but also in a way that twists my stomach and my… pussy.

It is strange that he scares me but also arouses me.

As soon as the door opens, my nostrils are invaded by his scent. Only this time, it’s stronger than ever. It’s spicy and lush, appealing in an evocative way.

I muster the will to step into the room feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

It’s his bedroom, and it’s almost completely dark, except for the fire-like electronic light on one side of the wall.

Everything is black: the couches facing the floor-to-ceiling window covered in velvet curtains, the rug spread from under his bed to almost the center of the room, the coffee table, and the library with books in black bindings.

My stomach churns and I feel the need to fill the room with something other his presence.

“Have you chosen?” The setting is beginning to feel intimate. “The suits,” I awkwardly point at my sketchbook in his hand.

He doesn’t look up as he drawls, “You will make all three,” then tosses my sketchbook on his bed.

My eyes fly open and my mouth drops to the floor.

Has he lost his mind? I can barely make one within the timeframe, and he wants me to make three. The embellishments alone will take days.

“Thr…” The word gets trapped in my mouth as his intense eyes shoot up. I swallow it with a whimper and a loud gulp.

“Speak,” he clips, and my tongue loosens at his command.

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