I watched her ass move back and forth as she climbed the stairs with a straight back. It was strange to think that I would have to share my life with this woman, that I should probably show her my office. In my mind, I kept thinking this was short-term, but it wasn’t.
It was a lifelong commitment.
I caught up with her. “Follow me.”
On the second landing, she turned to me, clearly uneasy about what I wanted.
“Come on.” I took the lead and moved to the third floor. I didn’t check if she was behind me because the sound of her shoes was audible enough. I went past the bright windows and approached the door across the hall from my bedroom. “This is my office.” I stepped inside the large room. There were two couches that faced the dark desk situated near the window. Decorated in dark colors with a stash of brandy and scotch in plain sight, it was my personal space. There was a box of cigars on the table.
She stepped inside, and the first thing she noticed was the cigars. “You smoke?”
“Occasionally.”
She didn’t take a seat as she examined my room, her arms crossed over her chest like she was afraid to let her guard down in my presence. “It suits you…”
I grabbed the decanter of brandy and two glasses. “Would you like some?”
“I’m not a brandy kind of girl.”
“Water, then?”
“No, I’ll take the scotch.” I paused for just an instant as I set the glasses on my desk. She seemed like a girl who could only handle a weak bottle of wine. I would have never guessed that she had a palate for something stronger. I swapped out the brandy for the scotch and filled both glasses.
She took a seat then accepted the drink. Bringing to her lips, she took a decent swallow and didn’t even cringe when the booze dropped into her stomach. With perfect posture and crossed legs, she sat like she was still every bit of royalty.
I sat across from her and grabbed a cigar. “Mind if I smoke?”
“As long as you don’t smoke alone.”
I stilled again, not expecting her to participate in such a disgusting habit. She seemed like a woman who would berate me for smoking, because she was a perfect know-it-all. Or maybe she just didn’t care how long I lived.
She placed the cigar in her mouth, her full lips snug around the tip. She leaned forward and craned her neck out, the front of her dress giving way and revealing cleavage that was impossible to ignore.
But I didn’t look. I held the lighter to the end until it started to burn. She sucked at the same time, making the ash smolder into orange embers. With two fingers, she pulled the cigar out of her mouth and let a wall of smoke rise to the ceiling.
I was so mesmerized, I almost forgot to light my own cigar. I’d never seen a woman smoke like that, at least not a woman of her station. She seemed too prissy for it. I got the end burning and brought the smoke into my mouth, immediately feeling the calming sensation as it absorbed into my blood. I released a deep breath and let the smoke escape my nostrils.
With her drink in one hand and the cigar in the other, she leaned back against the couch and got comfortable, looking just like one of the guys. She slowly puffed on her cigar and let the smoke rise to the high, vaulted ceiling.
I hated to admit it, but she looked pretty sexy.
I left my drink on the table and moved to my desk to retrieve the folder. I returned and set the cigar in the ashtray so I could go over the papers. “This is for you.” I pulled out a couple bank cards and set them in front of her. “This one is for monthly expenses, gas, food, shopping, whatever.” I pushed another toward her. “This is for emergencies, and if you need to make a purchase up to a million dollars. If you need more cash than that, you’ll have to get approval from me—and I’ll probably say no.” I picked up the cigar again and took another puff.
She eyed the cards without taking them. “I don’t need this.”
She was broke, so unless Dante was buying her everything, she didn’t have any cash. “I think you do.”
“I get paid from the opera. It’s not a fortune, but it’s enough to cover food, gas, and anything else I might need. I don’t have rent or a car payment, and all my meals at the house are free. It’s a nice gesture, but I don’t need your money.” She set her cigar in the ashtray and changed her focus to the scotch.
I just threw a ton of money at her, and she turned it down. No one in their right mind would do that. “You should still keep these in case you need them.” If she really did pay for her own things, then it wouldn’t be like she existed at all. She was just a woman who slept in one of the rooms and shared meals with me. She could have easily taken the cards and gone on a shopping spree, but she didn’t seem interested. She was used to being rich, but now she didn’t seem to care that she wasn’t anymore.