Page 4 of His Gift
"Can you stand?" I nod, not really sure if I can. He helps me to my feet, a hand on my waist to steady me, the other using the towel to dry my body. "Lie on the bed." He pushes me down gently, and I obey. I don't believe my legs would keep me upright, anyway. He dashes into the bathroom and returns almost immediately, a bottle in his hand—the cocoa butter cream I use at home.
"I like that you always smell like chocolate. Now relax. As soon as I'm done, I'll prepare your breakfast."
He skillfully massages the cream into my skin, starting from my feet and going up. I can't hold back a moan when he massages first my inner thighs and then my tits, pinching my already erect nipples.
"So sensitive, my gift. But you need to eat. Turn around. Let me finish." With an effort, I do as he asked me and he starts all over again, making me shamelessly buck against his palm as he touches my ass.
"Perfect. Now, wear this and let's go." My eyes fly open. I didn't think he'd let me wear clothes. Instead, he hands me a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Both are mine. My breath catches. I don't know why this scares me more than anything else he did before, but it does. And he notices.
"Let me help you. I brought your favorite clothes because I want you to feel comfortable," he says, dressing me like a doll, his tone cheerful as if he's expecting me to thank him. Then he picks me up one more time.
"I can walk," I mumble, but there's no answer.
The bedroom opens onto a hallway displaying a few paintings. It then gives way to a double-flight staircase descending into an open-plan kitchen and living room. Pulling up the single chair at the table, he sits me down and starts to make breakfast.
"Why did you choose me?"
"Because you're perfect for me." He doesn't even turn around, delivering his answer as if it should explain everything. It doesn't. And at the same time, it does.
I'm so mad now.
"Because I'm weak and stupid and alone?" My voice is just a whisper below a scream, my emotions all over the place and no longer in my control.
Only silence meets my outburst. Well, I guess it's answer enough. That's why he picked me. I still have so many questions to ask, but I've lost the will to do so. I just watch him move effortlessly, as if it's a normal occurrence for him. He took the time to wear a pair of sweatpants, but I didn't notice him doing it. Who cares, anyway? They're not a barrier between us, same as my clothes aren't. He might as well have left me buck naked.
The loud clatter of the plate on the table, more forceful than necessary, startles me.
"Let's be clear, girl." He crouches in front of me and grabs my chin, forcing me to look straight into his eyes. "I don't consider myself weak or stupid, so I'm not interested in a woman who has those flaws. And that you're alone makes no difference. No one would've stopped me from taking you. Now stand up." We stand together. Then he sits on the chair and brings me down onto his lap. One chair. One set of silverware. One plate.
"Yes. I'm feeding you and you're taking your meals seated on my lap. You've been rude enough for one day. Don't push your luck." He cuts a piece of bacon, lines it up with some eggs and offers it to me.
Shaking my head and pressing my lips together, I give him a glare. I'm not a baby. I can walk, eat and do whatever else on my own.
"Think twice before you make a foolish choice. Either you eat, or your next meal is in two days." The fork is still in front of me, the smell amazing, and my stomach rumbles. I'm hungry. I don't want to wait two days before being able to eat. There's no reason, and it would only weaken me. So I swallow my pride and open my mouth, eating noisily to make a point. I don't get the reaction I hoped for. Just an imperceptible frown.
"By the way," he says, offering me more food, "your ex-husband is a moron."
I shrug. Okay, he made it clear: he knows everything about me.
"I guess what they say about good deeds is true."
He pauses with the fork midair and gives me a questioning look.Oh, you didn't know this detail, did you?Well, it's no big secret. Just one of my big screwups.
"The woman he left me for. A colleague. She was down on her luck. Her parents had cut her off because of her boyfriend, who then dumped her a few months later. I invited her to dinner. Stupid move. But my marriage would have ended anyway. By then, my husband was pissed off because I was always busy taking care of my old dad after my mom had passed. Not a day went by when he didn't tell me I was never there for him."
"Is that why you moved when your father died?"
"Yes and no. I needed a fresh start, and my company had a branch in New York in sore need of a new head of their legal department. It was a promotion and a fresh start all at once. I was divorced, and I had lost most of my friends anyway, becauseapparentlyI was neglecting them too."
He doesn't comment, but starts feeding me again.
"How long have you followed me?"
"A week. There's almost nothing you can't learn about a person in a week. Almost."
"So you're a biochemist and a private investigator or what?"
"I've honed a few skills over the years. Good, you're done. Now it's time to deal with your insubordination."
