Page 33 of Beautiful Chaos

I frowned at her unintentionally.

“Is the bed uncomfortable? It’s barely been used, except by my assistant Max when he’s stayed overnight working late,” I blurted out, my tone betraying my nerves only to myself.

No woman has ever made me nervous, not like she does.

“You could sleep in my bed, and I’ll take the guest bed if that will help,” I offered, eager to make her comfortable. She giggled and it was the sweetest sound my ears had ever heard. It was organic, natural, and genuine.

“No, the bed is great. This is likely the most comfortable bed I’ve ever experienced. Frankly, unfamiliar environments make me anxious, and I feel a little guilty. She bit her bottom lip as she said the last part.

Damn it if she isn’t the sexiest little thing when she does that. I’d do anything to bite that lip for her.

She looked down at her feet.

“Guilty?” I questioned, eager to know what on earth she had to feel guilty about. She lifted her eyes, her long lashes accentuating the soft flush of embarrassment on her cheeks, giving her a look of naivete.

“Yes, you have asked me out twice and I’ve turned you down both times, but you didn’t hesitate to come to my aid the minute there was a need for it,” she said softly.

I wanted to stroke her face, yet I was determined not to invade her space to make her feel secure. In an attempt at self-restraint, I placed my hands by my sides and flexed them briefly. She immediately noticed the movement, her gaze dropping to my hands the moment I did so.

“I’ll be honest it’s not every day I get turned down like that. Not twice in a row and I will say, my ego was a little bruised,” I said with a teasing smirk.

“If you truly feel guilty, perhaps you’ll let me make you some chamomile tea. It might help you relax for the night,” I suggested, gazing into her eyes, a slow smile forming on her lips.

“I’d like that very much. Thank you.” I held my arm out gesturing for her to take it with a nod. Guiding her into the kitchen, I stopped at the bar stools and pulled one out for her. I had a custom breakfast nook built when I moved in. I don’t particularly like breakfast, but I liked the idea of reading the paper with my morning coffee there.

I stepped back to give her space. She climbed onto the stool and tucked the blanket around her bare legs and feet, all the way up, until only her head was uncovered.

Rummaging through the cabinet after placing the kettle on the stove to heat, I moved various glassware around to no avail. I know I have some teaware in this damn kitchen somewhere…

I’d seen Lucy, my live-in housekeeper, use it a million times, but she had to leave suddenly four months ago when her mother fell ill. Since then, I’ve been too preoccupied to hire a replacement, or maybe I’m not quite ready to do so.

I hate change.

Lucy quickly became attuned to my preferences, mastered my routines, and adapted seamlessly. It was disappointing that she wouldn’t be coming back after I sent her home for a visit on my private jet. Initially, the idea was for her to take a brief break and then come back when she was ready, but circumstances rapidly changed, making resigning her only option.

Lucy was like a second mother to me in a way, she would have one-on-one talks with me about needing to settle down and find a woman to love me. I always acted annoyed with her intrusion into my personal life but secretly, it made me feel cared for.

I finally located the teacups and saucers just as the kettle began to whistle.

* * *

I lay in my bed watching the ceiling fan slowly spin trying not to focus on the fact that I had a goddess of a woman sleeping on the other side of my bedroom wall. It took everything in my power not to touch her or to get too close to her. She was here for my protection, and the last thing she needed was a man forcing himself on her, which based on her divine beauty, I assumed happened to her daily.

I was infatuated by her natural beauty as she sat on the stool in my kitchen wrapped in a blanket without an ounce of makeup on her face and her hair uncombed. The sexiest part about it was she didn’t even seem to mind it herself. She seemed so content as she sipped her tea and talked about the only family she knew, her best friend Aster.

I kept my distance and leaned on the counter across from her, sipping my scotch while I let her go on and on. She could have talked until sunrise, and I wouldn’t have grown bored with her.

* * *

I wanted to know more, I wanted to know everything. I didn’t particularly care to hear a woman’s life story if I knew it wasn’t going to result in a couple of hours of pleasure and sexual satisfaction. I also never entertained a woman I was not trying to sleep with. Call me a dog if you like, it’s just my way.

But there I was, lying in bed, concocting a plan to court her, even if it was until her roommate returned. I wanted to light up her world make her smile, ease her suffering, and shield her from harm.

Judging by the size of the small gym bag she brought, I didn’t think she expected to stay more than one night. My instincts were driving my actions, as I thought I would request (but I intended to tactfully insist) that she stay with me until Aster returns.

I had already dismissed her security details from her home until further notice and arranged to have her tailed to and from work, along with a personal driver. I know it’s a lot for a woman I barely knew but she’s different from any other woman in my eyes. She’s genuine, appreciative, and kind-hearted. She’s passionate and empathetic.

When I look into her green eyes, I see so much fucking hurt that she hides, but she hasn’t allowed that pain to taint her perspective of the world or harden her heart. It was evident she concealed her trauma deep within her soul, always aware and alert in guarding it. But I could see through her stoic façade, I could see the pain she held inside.

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