Bidding For Her Curves - Flora Ferrari Page 0,27

you were on vacation?” I ask him, realizing I may as well check in with him. I did email him telling him to call me ASAP. I just didn’t think it would be over my choice of breakfasts.

“I am. I was…” he says, sounding unusually hesitant. My email also alluded to the property deals I’ve just found out about. I’ve called a meeting and want every single executive in the board room tomorrow morning.

“I’m tied up today,” I continue to tell him, “but I need you to round up all those on the list. I don’t care where they are, get ‘em back here.” I growl.

Nick never talks back, but for some reason, he’s trying to brush off this whole thing. He wants to talk about the press, about the auction.

About the strange girl, I was seen leaving with.

I can see Jules is looking like she feels out of place, so sighing impatiently, I tell Nicholas as nicely as I can for him to just do as I’ve asked in the email and I’ll see everyone at the meeting tomorrow.

He protests again, but I hang up.

How weird.

“Everything alright?” Jules asks, noticing my suddenly very sad cock under my robe.

I shrug, laughing to myself.

No wonder I haven’t had it up in years. Damned work, kills every good mood.

“Just business,” I tell her, leaning over to kiss her again and set to work on our breakfast of steaks, eggs, and bacon with onions, mushrooms, and anything else I can find to fry off.

It’s strange, but I think we both feel a little awkward about eating in front of each other. Strange because of what we’ve already done to each other but for me, I think it’s because I’m used to living alone.

Same for Jules I’m guessing.

I try not to watch her, but she does this thing with her ears when she chews. I think it’s cute and can’t help but stare.

She stops chewing.

“Everything alright?” she asks, brushing her hair back over her ears self-consciously.

I think again about the real estate deal, about her neighborhood. Wondering how soon can I bring up the topic of her staying here with me for good.

“I just like watching you is all,” I tell her truthfully.

I can see she’s also thinking about her things.

“I can have some clothes sent up, anything you need,” I offer.

She gives me a smile.

I had planned for a day out. But seeing her in my shirt and what looks like a pair of my boxers too, I’m thinking I want to be housebound with her today, but it’s her day. It’s up to Jules.

“You feel like doing anything? Going someplace?” I ask, dabbing my mouth with a napkin.

“I thought you’d have to do something about the auction?” she asks, finding her own napkin and matching my movements with her own.

I shrug, really not wanting to think about it, or anything to do with the business until tomorrow.

Even though I know I should be scrambling to set some heads rolling. From the sounds of it though, most of the trash I want to take out isn’t even in the state. Some of them aren’t even in the country at the moment.

How convenient.

“Maybe we could go to the soup kitchen? I’m sure Florence, that’s the manager, will be bowled over by the amount raised,” she says suddenly.

Excitedly.

Enthusiastic.

I feel my stomach drop.

Having Jules anywhere near the soup kitchen, or her neighborhood for that matter is the last thing I want right now. But it’s she wants. And I can see her eyes light up at the idea.

“I’d much rather go home and get changed anyway. Have my own clothes,” she adds, only fueling my alarm which she picks up on straight away.

“Is that alright?” she asks me, looking at me sideways as I stifle a groan.

“Of course,” I tell her. “Anything you want. I just thought… what about clothes to even get you there?” I venture, looking over her with a raised brow but she only smiles, hugging herself a little.

“I like your shirt. I can dash from a car into my building in it, can’t I? You can protect me,” she adds proudly, and I feel a strange hollowness where I should be pleased.

They’re not knocking down her neighborhood this week Mason, ease up, she can grab some stuff from her apartment.

I wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I’m Mason Thorne but when it comes to Jules McPherson I only want to make her happy.

“Sure,” I hear myself saying. Trying to mean