Page 25 of Royal Fling
“And he needs security in his own home? What exactly is it that he does?”
They had been questions that had been bugging me since last night, and the notion that there was a bell in the room to call for his maid brought them all back to the surface.
“He’s a very important man. So he needs his own staff to help him out where we can.”
That only created more questions, but I decided not to push it. It was clear Fisayo didn’t want to break August’s trust for whatever reason, and it didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just point me toward the bathroom, and I’ll be set for the night.”
Fisayo denoted the door on the other side of the room, and I nodded. Of course it was en suite. What else would I expect from a penthouse in the middle of London?
“I’m so glad you decided to stay,” she said. “We can go out tomorrow if you’d like, and I can show you some of my favorite places in London.”
“I’d love that,” I replied and gave her a hug.
As soon as she left the room, I went over to the bathroom, astounded to find it was as big as the room itself with a toilet, a bidet, a shower, a bathtub, and a jacuzzi.
Maybe it was a mistake to spend the night. I didn’t think I’d want to leave in the morning. Why didn’t Leo have a jacuzzi in his bathroom? Or his backyard even? What kind of Hollywood star was he and what kind of rich man was August?
When I returned to the room, I removed my clothes and picked a dark blue robe to wrap around my body. It was so tender against my skin that I got goosebumps all over. Was this what it was like to be a rich man? Having an entire spa in your bathroom and clothes that made you shiver?
There was a rap on the door, and I walked over to open it.
August was there, still in his casual suit from the evening and looking at me like a dessert on a plate.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he replied, checking me out. “May I come in?”
I shrugged.
“It’s your house. You can do what you want,” I said in as much of a flat tone as I could muster.
I didn’t want to sound weakened by his roaming eyes or by his beautifully wet lips.
“Is that a promise?” he asked, and my mouth hung open unwittingly.
A hand landed in the middle of my chest, and he walked me backwards until he was inside the room and then closed the door behind him with his free hand.
“What have you done to me?” he asked.
“Wh-what?” I flinched.
Had I done something without noticing?
“You’ve taken full occupancy of my head space, and I can’t stop thinking of you,” he said.
The hand on my chest moved down slowly, fingers hooking onto the fabric and bringing it apart the more they traveled south until the robe was undone and I was standing in front of him in my underwear.
“I’m-I’m sorry,” I croaked, trying to swallow, to command my vocal chords so I didn’t sound so submissive, but I wasn’t successful.
“Are you?” he asked, those gray eyes piercing my own with a quiet intensity that stalled my breath.
“No, not really,” I replied.
August smirked and brought his other hand to my collar bone, tracing fingers around to my neck, then to my shoulder, lifting the fabric and letting it drop behind me until I was almost entirely naked.
He cupped my cheek and held my gaze for a few moments, inches away from me.
