After taking an extra-long shower, I slip into my tried-and-tested black sports bra and bikini-style panties, both made of comfortable cotton.When I put the dress on over my underwear, I don’t feel as exposed.Good.
With renewed confidence, I make my way to the dining room in a much chirpier mood than I expected.
“Gentlemen,” I say, taking my seat.It’s amazing what a pair of underwear can do.They just grin at me—well, except Kian.But who cares?
For someone who usually gets by on one meal a day—typically a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at night when my stomach growls—three Michelin-star meals a day could become addictive.
“What am I eating tonight?”I ask Flinn, shaking out my napkin and placing it over my lap.
“Red wine-braised short ribs, root vegetables, and freshly baked focaccia,” Flinn replies.“Does that meet your expectations, my lady?”he asks, smiling.
“Absolutely, although I would have preferred better company, but beggars can’t be choosers,” I say sweetly and dig in.
Chapter Twelve
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Cora
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Iremind myself thatI don’t have to play nice.
“Brat,” Sinclair mutters, his gaze gliding over my lips as I lick them after taking a bite of the ribs.His comment reflects my disappointment about the current company.
If I wanted a reaction from Kian, I got nothing.He hasn’t even looked at me since I walked in.
We finish the meal in silence, but as soon as we’re done, I speak up again.
“Will you reconsider this pleasure debt and let me go?”I won’t stop asking.
“How’s your pussy?”Sinclair counters.
“None of your business,” I reply, my face flushing red.
“Then no,” he says with a wink.