as I scan the paper.
My attention is pulled away from my paper when movement catches my eye. I turn my head and find Poppy walking into the dining room, dressed and ready.
“Well, maybe you can be on time after all,” I tease.
She offers up a small smile. “I tried.” She shrugs carelessly.
“Please, sit and have some breakfast. We still have a few minutes before we have to go.”
She moves to the same chair she took last night and begins making her plate as Jane pours her coffee. “This is crazy. All of this food is for you?” she asks, bringing a piece of bacon to her mouth and taking a bite.
Oh, what I wouldn’t do to be that piece of bacon right now. I nod. “For us.”
“This is wasteful. They cook like this every morning?”
“They do.”
“So what happens to the leftovers?”
I frown. She worries about the silliest things. “It’s not wasteful, I have them cook this much because they take it to the homeless shelter over on 53rd.” I can see the shock on her face. “Didn’t know I had a philanthropic heart, did you? Hard to probably see past all that prejudice you have against the wealthy.” I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “You should have them donate all that crystal to the homeless as well.”
I snort. “And what would the homeless need crystal for?” I know what she means, but I’m just goading her.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Uh, sell it, obviously, and actually put the money to good use instead of letting it collect dust.”
“Would it kill you to just eat and not argue?”
“Would it kill you to put that wealth and power to good use?” she throws back, and for once, I’m speechless.
My mouth opens to reply, but it snaps shut and my jaw flexes as I shake my head. “Jane?” I call.
She quickly appears in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”
“Per Poppy’s request, would you and the staff mind packing up the crystal and putting it up for auction at Christie’s? Donate the proceeds to the shelter, please.”
“Uh, um, no sir, I guess not,” she finally gets out.
I look back at Poppy. “Happy now?”
She smiles. “Very. See, that wasn’t hard, now was it?”
Five
Poppy
It didn’t take long for me to fall into a deep sleep in that big, fluffy bed. But even in my sleep, Matthew’s presence haunted me. It’s getting harder and harder to avoid my attraction to him. But in my dreams, he doesn’t talk or act the way he does in real life. In my dreams, he’s nice, polite, charming, and outgoing. So when he tells me I’m beautiful and pulls me against him, I don’t fight him. I kiss him. The soft kiss turns heated, and before I know it, he’s throwing me up against the wall and kissing his way down my body. His lips are hot against my neck, nearly burning a trail to my lower belly.
His hands push my dress up my thighs as he falls to his knees, bringing his mouth to my drenched sex. I feel his hot tongue slip between my slick folds as my breathing picks up. My entire body hardens as he’s pushing me closer to the edge. Just as my release rises, my eyes pop open and I let out a groan.
I find myself overly irritated from the dream. I’m pissed at myself for letting my unconscious mind go there—having dream sex with a man I loathe. I’m mad that my body is now on high alert and needs to be worked over and reset. But most of all, I hate that I wish it were real. I wish I could feel his body moving against mine. I hate that I’m jealous of all the women who have gotten to take what they wanted while I’m stuck denying my attraction to him. And I hate that he isn’t the man from my fantasies—a man who’s caring, giving, and easygoing. And even though I know all of this, I hate that I can’t control the way my body reacts to him.
I throw back the blankets and go to cool off in the shower. My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet, but I’m too frustrated to sleep any longer. My body feels tense and sore—like I didn’t relax a moment last night. I have a dull headache, probably from overthinking that dream, and I feel irritable, like I can’t quite get a handle on my mood today. That