Page 12 of Kidnapped Plus-Size Mate

“Shit…” I murmur, staring down at the way I’m dressed.

He’s going to be joiningmytour.

It doesn’t even matter why he wants to join my scheduled tour.

What matters is my lack of effort when I dressed for work this morning.

With my heart steadily picking up pace until I hear the reverberation of my pounding ribcage in my eardrums, I bolt for the bathroom, keeping my face down so that I can get to my destination without being spotted.

Once inside, I breathe a sigh of relief behind the door before another bout of unrest squirms inside me when my eyes land on my reflection.

“Oh, no…” I murmur, running my fingers through the frizzle mass of raven black hair I’d hardly brushed this morning. With anxiously furrowed brows as I stare at myself in the mirror, I walk forward and slouch discontentedly.

I look down to rake my eyes over the unflattering way the monotonous gray pencil skirt chokeholds my thick thighs. Every fold of the dreary fabric only highlights my larger curves, bringing attention to my dimples of cellulite.

“Shit…” I murmur with an almost sob as I attempt to flatten the skirt with desperate strokes of my trembling palms. An idea pops into my head like a flick of a switch, and with my tongue pressed to my cheek, I grab the hem toward the left side of the skirt with both hands and give the fabric a firm tug.

It rips apart, but not the way I was hoping it would. Now I’m left with a slit high enough to peep the yellow granny panties I’d worn thanks to my natural cycle that greeted me yesterday morning.

‘Holy shit!”

My eyes widen as I stare at myself in disbelief. I need to figure out a way to undo this mess, but the damages to my skirt are too dire to hide the tragedy.

I quickly remove the knitted sweater I’d been using to hide my voluptuous breasts in the white shirt and tie the sleeves around my waist to hide the slit.

That should do it.

Lugging in staggered breaths, I look up and realize how foolish I’m being. It’s not like the man would even notice me, let alone care about the way I’m dressed!

He’s so out of my league! It’s not like he’ll even notice me.

“Pfft!” I blow out, simultaneously blowing away the few stray strands of waves that escaped from the rest of my unbrushed hair. I pat my head to hide the static strands at the top, then laugh at my disposition.

I’ve been facing a dragon in my dreams for the past couple of nights. Surely, I can face an ordinary man who only appears extraordinary on the surface.

Besides, he’s too much of a stud to ever glance my way. Men like him don’t give women like me the time of day. He’s the type of man who probably lives in the gym.

I’ve never even seen the inside of one.

“Breathe, Camilla…” I encourage my reflection as I inhale deeply and exhale to compose myself.

It’s just another day at work.

I’m not crazy…

Once I’ve convinced myself that his request to join my tour this morning means nothing except that I’m just really good at my job, I head out and prepare for the tour, choosing to remain oblivious to his arrival in the art gallery when the rest of the group gathers around the room.

I clear my throat to gain their attention, doing my best not to let my eyes slip to the man as he hangs near a French painting. But out of the side of my eye, I catch him crossing bulging arms over his chest, a freakishly sinister smirk lifting the corners of his lips as he pays keen attention to me.

“Thank you for joining the Fresno Museum this morning,” I say robotically with a mechanical nod. “We’ll begin the tour at these paintings behind us. If you’ll take a look to your right…” I gesture to the painting of the woman where the mysterious man stands, and I gulp when he doesn’t take his eyes off me. It takes me a moment to gather my composure again, but luckily for me, the group doesn’t notice.

“... That is the work of the famous French painter, Marcello,” I continue after successfully dodging the man, Sterling’s, deeply intrusive gaze. “Renowned for its intricate brushstrokes, he painted his wife on a Sunday morning at breakfast.”

“That sounds so romantic…”

“He must have loved her very much…”

“It’s a beautiful piece…”

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