Bidding For Her Curves - Flora Ferrari Page 0,43

ask what it is, shifting her position after asking me if the door’s locked and I tell her of course, she straddles me, hooking her arms around my neck and starts to grind on my lap.

“It feels like lunchtime,” she purrs, making me laugh and groan with pleasure at the same time.

“Real lunch or this lunch?” I ask, flexing my hips so she can feel me through her own dress pants.

“Hmmm. Hate to disappoint you lover boy, but my stomach’s telling me real lunch. I didn’t even have breakfast,” she confesses, and I have to admit, I could use a bite myself.

Picking her up in my arms, I carry her out through the doors and across the empty reception area, back home.

“Do you really want to live here?” she asks suddenly as I set her down at the kitchen counter, readying ingredients to make us some lunch.

I start to answer, then notice a wistful, almost faraway look in her eyes.

Like she knows something I don’t.

“I’ve been here, like my habits,” I finally tell her, “Probably for too long.”

She smiles wider, seeming pleased with my answer.

I settle on toasting some bagels and filling them with a variety of meats and relish, a couple I leave untoasted, making them smoked salmon and crème fraiche instead.

Yesterday Jules might have commented on how it’s too much food, but today it’s already normal.

I like that.

“Where do you want to live?” I ask her after taking a couple of bites, the only sounds being our hums and groans of satisfaction at finally being able to eat something.

“And don’t just say wherever I want. I want you to have an equal say, even the ultimate say if it’s what you really want,” I tell her firmly, sounding like a boss.

“It’s silly,” she says bashfully.

I wipe a little relish from her chin and lick it from my finger.

“Tell me,” I prompt her, feeling butterflies and even a little fear because I know she’s already made her mind up.

“I’ve always wanted a house in the suburbs you know, the white picket fence, long driveway. The whole bit.”

I feel my heart leap, fear replaced with relief, pride. I am proud of her. It’s part of why I love her so much.

“And kids, one day?” I ask, unable to hold back now.

“Of course,” she adds. “Lots of kids and maybe some dogs…someday,” she adds cryptically, giving me that knowing look again.

Her eyes roll though once she hears the phone on the wall ringing.

“And can we do away with that?” she asks, then laughs as I sigh, heaving myself off my stool to answer it out of another habit.

I guess I have to be accessible to someone all the time. Someone that isn’t my Jules.

I figure it must be Fitch or someone who’s working closely with the new changes. But to my annoyance, it’s Nicholas.

Note to self: change this number once I get off the phone. Maybe get a restraining order against this guy.

“Before you hang up,” he starts. “I think there are some things you should know, Mason.”

I feel my jaw clenching and my hand tightens on the phone, my first instinct is to hang up, rip the damn phone off the wall.

“After twenty years, just give me a minute,” he says, almost pleading.

There’s some emotion in the old man’s voice, and I grunt quietly.

Jules has cleared the dishes and gives me a little wave goodbye, signaling she’s going to the bathroom.

“You’ve got fifty seconds,” I snarl down the line.

“I did wrong by you in the end, Mason. But it wasn’t always that way. I just got tired of seeing you get more and more while I never got anything.”

The second phase after the ‘fire me’ face is the ‘I didn’t mean it, can I have my old job back’ face.

“You did more than double-cross me Nicholas, you broke the law, sold out thousands of people using my name,” I reprimand, unable to contain my anger.

“Your name?” he bellows down the phone. “Your name!”

It’s a stupid question, but his anger beats mine down, which is replaced with confusion and then silent understanding.

Something I guess I knew all along, but could never admit. Not even to myself.

“Forty years ago… I had a son. His mother gave her life so he could keep his… I was a mess, financially… emotionally… I’d just lost my wife of five years…”

I feel my legs buckling, and I pull up a stool, sitting myself down, trying to swallow but my mouth is too dry all of a