Page 13 of Kidnapped Plus-Size Mate

The compliments of awe and praise come expectedly. I allow the group a moment to appreciate the painting and take it all in.

But the pause works against me when the handsome stud merely glances at the painting before turning back to me with a raised brow.

“Painting her picture as an act of love, huh?” he says with derision laced in his tone.

“Yes, a very profound act of love,” I reply calmly. It doesn’t matter how wildly my heart is beating right now; I have to remain professional.

It’s the first time the man has spoken to me directly, and my insides feel like they’re about to explode.

Breathe, Camilla…

The man peels himself from his cool position, unwinding his arms as he strolls casually toward me. I can only watch him without moving, cemented to the spot thanks to my disbelief.

What is he doing?

“There are much grander acts of love, you know?” he whispers, his voice only loud enough to carry to my ears. Stunned by the sweet scent that mingles with the powerful notes of musk, I lift my eyes to meet the impenetrable depths of emerald swirls and feel myself freezing on the spot when I catch the way the golden specks in those eyes glimmer as if they’ve just been ignited.

“I—I am s-sure there are, Sir,” I respond hesitantly. By some stroke of luck, I’m able to tear my eyes from his attentive ones, flitting my gaze down when I notice the amusement on his lips.

Those plump cushions draw a line toward the right side of his cheek where a mole stands out prominently.

I thought I’d lose myself in his eyes, but now I suddenly have the urge to reach out and touch the mole with my fingertip, and trace the artwork that lies beside his dimple.

“I can name a few…”

His deep, husky voice startles me with what he’s implying, and I gasp sharply when I remember that I have a tour to lead.

Quickly reeling my thoughts back in and trying not to get too much of his intoxicating cologne in my nostrils, I step out of his proximity and call to the group, “Please follow me this way…”

As I turn to lead the tour down the corridor, a shiver of awareness rushes through me, and I almost trip over my own two feet in the flat pumps that should be keeping me steady.

A pair of immaculately strong hands grip my shoulders and keep me steady, the gentle gust of wind that waves by sending the richness of his masculinity in my airways. It’s so powerful that it fills me with the strength I need to prevent my knees from quivering.

“Be careful,Camilla.”The mystery man whispers gently, leaving my heart racing while my head spins with the way he drawled my name.

How does he know my first name?

Mentally shaking the intrusive thoughts away, I force myself to pretend he’s not here as he strolls down the corridor. His presence seems to be affecting me way too much to be considered normal.

I have no idea what’s going on. Maybe I’m lapping up the fleeting attention he’d just given me by talking to me like I actually exist in his reality.

I’ll have to pretend he’s just a figment of my imagination, conjured by my overactive imagination and strengthened by the past few torturous nights.

That’s all this is. There’s no other viable explanation for such a handsome stranger to give me the time of day.

Clearing my throat, I go about the rest of the tour, grateful when I notice that Sterling, the mystery man, keeps to himself and doesn’t utter another word to me.

It makes my life so much easier, even if I have to will myself not to steal a few glances at the eye candy who returned after three months and joined my tour specifically today after settling his account.

It’s not like he’s here for me. The notion is too far-fetched, too absurd to be considered. Every time I allow my mind to linger on his presence, I only end up realizing that I’m crazy to think otherwise.

Men like him don’t care for women like me. He deserves nothing less than a runway model with tight, perky breasts and the absence of any body fat.

When, at last, the tour comes to an end in the German art showroom, I thank my guests before they take turns thanking me for showing them around the museum. Sighing when a wave of relief washes over me, I clutch my clipboard to my chest when I’m startled by a mild touch on my shoulder.

I gasp as soon as I turn, meeting green eyes of keen interest.

I didn’t think he’d approach me again, let alone when the room had cleared, and we were the only two left here.

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