so I can stare at them without being a major creep. I have zero idea. They’re both in matching khaki. The man’s shorts could also be my shorts, except mine come almost to the knee, are impeccably woven and tailored to fit me, and cost $500.
“I give up,” I say. “Walmart?”
She laughs softly. “Well actually, that woman’s top is from H and M. Part of the African safari without having to go to Africa collection.”
I tilt my head at her and flip up my glasses to give her an imploring look. “Please tell me you have shopped at somewhere other than the H and M sales rack.”
“You are such a snob,” she chides, reaching over with a toothpick and spearing one of my potatoes.
“I am a snob,” I admit, trying to pull my plate away. “And I told you, I don’t share, whether that means you or potatoes.”
“You don’t share. How could I forget,” she muses.
I also told my father that.
When he was in my bedroom and somewhat threatening me over Gabrielle.
A trickle of uneasiness comes over me, though I can’t quite place why.
If my father finds out about Gabrielle and me, this isn’t going to be good. I don’t know what his deal is with her and why he’s so damn possessive, but the fact is, I know he’d have no qualms in punishing either of us for this. He may fire her; he may do worse.
What I do know is that I’m not going to go through any of that without a fight.
“Potato for your thoughts?” Gabrielle says, leaning across the table with a piece of potato for me. In the time I’ve been locked in my head, she managed to steal all my food and eat most of it.
I open my mouth and snatch the potato from the toothpick, giving her a reassuring grin. “I’m just thinking about what I’m going to do with my prizes. I won, didn’t I?”
“We only did three.”
“Fine.”
We order another round of tapas and wine and play some more. I’m able to pick out a Chanel bag, a Tom Ford suit, and a Dolce & Gabbana sundress before I’m declared the winner.
“I guess I really had no chance,” she says, leaning back in her chair, hands clasped at her stomach and smiling at me.
“No,” I tell her. “Unless you thought everyone was wearing H and M. This tells me two things, of course.” I tick off my fingers. “One is that you wanted to lose, and I get that. Why wouldn’t you want to suck my cock later?” She snorts at that. “And two, you need a new wardrobe.”
“Oh, is this the Cinderella part of the story? Because no thanks. I’m not touching anything Dumont with a ten-foot pole.”
“Well, you were more than willing to touch this Dumont’s ten-foot pole.”
She coughs out a laugh. “Oh, come on. You wish.”
“I don’t wish, I know. I watched you ride me this afternoon with your fantastic tits bouncing up and down, writhing on top of my cock as it brought you to new planes of existence you didn’t even know were there.”
“Pascal,” she says in a hush, her body stiffening. I know she’s worried about someone overhearing, but hell, everyone should overhear what a lucky fuck I am.
I shouldn’t delight in making her uncomfortable like this, but I do.
After we’re full, we head back to the villa. I should have been proactive and gotten something to make for dinner, but let’s face it—Gabrielle would have done the cooking, and I didn’t want to impose on her. Seems like the moment she stripped, her duties went with it. I can’t complain; it’s a fair trade, and I tell her I’m taking her out for dinner tonight.
“On a proper date,” I add as we get out of the car.
“A date?” she asks. “Isn’t it uncouth to date the maid?”
“No more uncouth than fucking her.”
“You are so crude.”
“Yeah,” I tell her as I open the front door to the villa. “But I think you like it.”
She shakes her head and steps inside. I’m exhausted, so I figure lying by the lap pool at the side of the house might be in order, but she heads for the stairs and says, “I’m going to take a nap.”
I have to admit, I’m disappointed. I hate being disappointed.
I watch as she disappears, and I hear the door to her room close.
Hmm. I have no doubt she’s tired, but I was hoping for a little more time together. Not exactly sex but