Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Eliza.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“Yes.” She bites her bottom lip, and my cock stirs instantly.
Great. Another cold shower it is.
“I picked up the wrong suitcase at the airport,” she says, rolling it past me. “None of this stuff is mine.”
She unzips it, revealing a stack of Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops.
“I packed some really personal stuff in mine.” Her voice edges toward panic. “What if the person just throws all my things away?”
“They probably won’t. I’ll call the airport and handle it,” I say. “Is that all?”
“I didn’t pack any clothes in my carry-on, so I literally have nothing to wear.
Unless you expect me to walk around naked for the next few days.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time…”
I walk over to my dresser and pull out a stack of plain gray T-shirts and matching briefs.
She eyes them like they’re poisonous.
“I’ll have your clothes back by this weekend.” I press the pile into her hands.
“Okay.” She leaves the suitcase where it is and disappears down the hall.
I assume that’s the end of it—until she shows up in my doorway again, moments later.
Wearing my clothes.
And the pink stilettos I completely forgot about.
“Why didn’t you buckle the backs of the shoes?” I ask.
“I was thinking I should cut that part off,” she says. “Unless I’m allowed to wear socks with them?”
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head. “Buckle them. Now.”
She hesitates.
So I kneel and fasten them for her, letting my fingers linger on her skin longer than necessary.
“Okay,” I say, standing again. “Whenever you’re not asleep or eating, you wear heels. No exceptions.”
“But—”
“It’s the only way you’re going to learn, since you’ve somehow made it through life without ever wearing a pair.” I nod at the floor. “Walk. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
She hesitates, then takes a single step—almost toppling into a chair before steadying herself.
Like a toddler taking her first steps, she stretches her arms for balance and wobbles with every movement.
Jesus Christ…
“Okay, okay, this isn’t that bad.” She grins and leans against the wall. “I don’t look that terrible, right?”
‘Terrible’ would be generous.
“Do it again,” is all I say.
She takes five shaky steps. Then seven.
Just when it looks like she might actually make it across the floor—
She face-plants.
FOURTEEN
ELIZA
In the morning, I wake to swollen feet and a covered breakfast tray waiting at the edge of my bed.
There’s a note resting on top of the orange juice:
Eliza,
I’m heading to the airport to exchange the luggage.
I bought you Christian Louboutin and Jimmy Choo heels—figuring one of them might be easier to walk in.
See you when I get back.
P.S. Here’s your printed schedule for the next few weeks, complete with appointment times in cursive.
Also, you’ll need to remain silent for the next three days, to preserve your voice before we begin your vocabulary & social etiquette training(s).
Yoga (To Teach you Calmness)
Pronunciation (business lingo)
Pronunciation (small talk & flirtation)
Silverware and dinner etiquette
Walk training (heels only—no exceptions)
Posture correction
Fine dining without looking like you're trying
Emotional regulation
Laughing at jokes that aren’t funny (for charity galas only)
Art, wine, and luxury car name recognition
Fashion layering and makeup (I have a specialist in mind)
This man cannot be serious…
FOURTEEN (B)
HARRISON
A few days later
Ihaven’t spent the night in my penthouse in three nights.
Each morning, I slip in early, walk Eliza through her much-needed lessons, then drive to The Four Seasons to lie in their not-as-impressive top suite.
It’s not ideal, but it’s better than waking up one morning and realizing I’ve crossed a line I can’t come back from. And despite her roughness around the edges, she’s incredibly stunning.
Pulling into my parking spot for the fourth time in this routine, I take the elevator upstairs and quietly unlock the front door.
The apartment is still—no footsteps, no humming, no sounds from the guest room.
Okay, I’m safe...
I head for the shower and let the water run over me for at least an hour.
Steam clings to my skin as I step out, sling a towel around my waist, and rub a hand through my hair while walking toward the kitchen—
Only to find the object of my avoidance already standing there.
She’s barefoot, wearing one of my T-shirts and briefs, sipping coffee from one of my mugs.
“What was the point of me rushing to get your luggage if you were going to keep wearing my clothes?”
“I like the way the fabric feels against my skin,” she says. “Would you like me to give them back?”
“No, I would—”
I catch her gaze lowering to the towel around my waist.
“Want me to take it off?”
“No.” She blushes. “I’d actually prefer it if you wore clothes around the house.”
“It’s my house.”
“That you’re avoiding every night for whatever strange reason.” She shrugs, confirming that she’s noticed. “I think keeping your clothes on would be showing your guest good manners.”
“My guest is still insulting me over morning coffee,” I say. “I don’t think she’s in any position to make any etiquette requests.”