Page 28 of Wicked Embers

Radomir wraps his arms around me, and while he’s still inside me, he rolls us onto our sides, with me buried against his solid chest. We lie wrapped together, slowly getting our breath back, and I feel my eyes drifting shut when he kisses my head.

“Although I’d love to stay here with you all day and explore the heights I can take you to.” He reaches down and squeezes my butt. “I have some business to attend to.” He kisses my forehead. “You get some more sleep. It is still early. I have ordered clothes, toiletries, and other necessary items.” Radomir’s cock plops out of me. He unravels himself from me and sits. “I will have breakfast delivered here in two hours.”

My body starts to relax, and my eyes are closed when I feel Radomir slip off the bed and a few seconds later the shower goes on. I don’t know how long I’ve been drifting on the edge of sleep when I hear the shower stop.

There is dead quiet for a few minutes before the fresh scent of soap and cologne wafts into the room. I hear closets opening and closing. The sound of a belt being buckled but my eyes are too heavy to open and look. When the door to the bedroom gently clicks shut I give over to the oblivion of sleep.

The sound of the bedroom door jolts me awake. My eyes fly open. I grip the sheet to my chest and sit up, meeting the startled gaze of a housekeeper in a neat uniform. She holds a tray in her hands. It is filled with the delicious aroma of bacon and freshly brewed coffee, making my mouth water and stomach growl.

“Oh… Miss Dalton, I’m so sorry to have woken you,” the young woman says apologetically. “I was going to leave your breakfast tray Mr. Molchanov ordered for you.” She gives me a tight smile.

“It’s okay.” Pulling the large sheet around me, making it into a navy blue toga, I follow the breakfast tray to the table where we played poker the previous night. I try not to let my mind give me a play-by-play and concentrate on breakfast.

“I’ll come back in a while to collect the dishes and make the bed,” she tells me before slipping out the door.

I dig into the delicious breakfast of mouth-watering flavors—shit, Radomir’s chef even knows how to magically make bacon and scrambled eggs taste better. Sated, I sit back and stare at the city through the sparkling, clean windows as morning rises over it while I sip my coffee. I guess it’s not the worst prison to be held captive in.

Finishing the coffee, I feel guilty about not taking my own dishes to the kitchen, although I doubt the silk sheet toga I’m sporting would be the proper attire to pad through the apartment. My eyes fix on the bathroom. But I need a shower and to wash my hair. It must look like rat tails now. Not to mention, it was probably knotted into painful twists.

Padding into the bathroom, I brace my feet to meet the cold marble floor, but to my surprise, they’re pleasantly warm.Huh! Rich people even have warmer floor tiles.Breathing out, I head toward the shower that could fit my entire kitchen in.

he shower looks designed for a giant—or maybe just a man with an equally oversized ego. I reach out for the taps. “What the—“ I spin around, searching in vain for the taps. All I see is sleek chrome and a glowing panel that looks like it belongs in a spaceship. “Great. I’ve stumbled into a teleportation unit. Knowing my luck, it’ll send me to fucking Siberia... naked.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, staring at the control panel that somehow knows I’m there as the screen greets me.Good morning! What setting would you like the shower jets?

My head shoots around, looking for hidden cameras, and I suddenly feel like I’m being watched. I touch a button. I’m not sure what button it is, as it’s clearly not written in English and is designed for someone with a master’s in computer science. It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, all sleek chrome and blinking lights.

“Who designed this? NASA?” My brow furrows as I reach for another button when the one I hit does nothing. “I hope this isn’t a teleportation unit.” I jab at a few buttons. A jet of ice-cold water blasts me square in the face.

“Shit!” I yelp, stumbling backward. “Okay, not that one.”

I try again, activating what seems to be a steam function. The bathroom quickly fills with fog, leaving me no clearer on how the fucking thing works. I hit another button, and I’m once again treated to a spray of ice-cold water, only this time, the malicious shower hits me in the eye.

“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, grabbing my eye and jumping out of the shower of doom. “Is a simple on-off switch too much to ask?” I yell, fumbling for a towel while trying not to rub my eyes.

"Miss Dalton?“ The housekeeper peeks into the bathroom, hesitating just inside the door.

Her eyes travel the length of my body, making me feelveryuncomfortable. I grab the first towel my fingers latch onto and bring it to my—fuck, it’s a hand towel that barely covers the front of me.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” the housekeeper holds up her hands. “I didn’t mean to, uh, to stare. You have an amazing body.” My eyes widen. “Oh no, not like that. I like men. I’m a designer.” She smiles at me. “Well, an aspiring designer. I’m working my way through design school.” She runs a hand over her uniform. “I also do personal shopping for Mr. Molchanov.” She glances over my shoulder to the evil shower. “That’s why he asked me to go shopping for you.” She points to the shower. “May I?”

“You can work it?” I look at her in surprise.

Her smile broadens. “Only just learned.” She whispers conspiratorially.

“I take it there’s no instruction manual?”

“Let me show you,” she says, laughing and walking to the control panel to show me how to use it. “When you want it toswitch off, you can either hit this button or say,Shower switch off,“ she commands, and the water stops flowing. “Although I think that’s a bit creepy.” She shudders. “Like the shower’s watching me when I clean it.”

“Thank you.” I breathe a sigh of relief and look in. “Shit. Do you know where the shampoo and conditioner are?”

“Oh!” Her eyes widen. “I got you some, specially for your hair type, to put the bounce back in your curls and help keep them tangle-free.” She rushes out of the room and returns within a few seconds, her hands loaded with bags from top cosmetic houses. She puts them on the counter and pulls a bottle of shampoo and conditioner from one. My eyes widen. “Here.” She hands them to me.

“Jesus!” I say, taking it. Fuck, I’ve only ever dreamed of buying this shampoo. “Thank you.” I hold up the bottles. “Umm…” I look at the shower pointedly and then give her a:that’s your cue to leave type look. “Thanks again.”

She nods and leaves me alone in the bathroom to tackle the shower.

Forty minutes later, I walk out wrapped in a fluffy towel, smelling and feeling like a million dollars, with my clean, blow-dried hair all silky, smooth, and shiny. The housekeeper bought a selection of expensive high-end skin care products, cosmetics, deodorant, creams, and perfume. I feel like a queen!

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