My fingers tighten on the tablet’s edge until the metal bites into my palm.
This is ridiculous.
I force myself to set the tablet aside and reach for my phone instead. Leon answers on the first ring. Always does. “Yes?”
I almost ask him to clear my schedule for the next month. The words are right there, begging to be spoken. Cancel everything. Make Robin the center of my attention for thirty days.
But that’s impossible. The Consortium doesn’t run itself, and whimsy is a weakness I can’t afford.
“Get Markov to draw up a new proposal for the Colombos,” I say. “Half price on everything, and throw in anything due to become obsolete next year. We might as well clear stock.”
To give Leon credit, there’s only the slightest pause before he says, “Of course.”
I hang up and rub my eyes, finally feeling like I could sleep. But the security tablet screen flickers as movement catches my eye. Robin is stirring, rolling onto her side. For a moment, I think she might wake up, and my body tenses with anticipation. But she settles back into sleep, and I’m left aching with a want I can’t satisfy. Not yet, anyway.
Soon, though. Because thirty days is all I get, and I plan to make the most of it.
Chapter 10
Robin
When I wake, I’m not sure where I am for a moment. It takes a while for the memories to click into place. The auction. The plane flight. The castle.
Eva’s toes pressing into my softest flesh…
I shudder all over and stretch out, trying to ignore the delicious tingling between my legs. But soon enough, I feel energized, ready to face the day—and whatever else Eva Novak has planned for me.
I bounce out of bed to shower, and then I’m drawn back to the massive wardrobe I didn’t get a chance to explore last night. The clothes are just as gorgeous as I remember: sleek, luxurious…
And designed for someone with a very different body shape than mine.
I pull out a slim-fit blouse first with a label readingD&G. The material is soft and creamy in my hands, but there’s no way thisis going to button over my boobs, and I definitely don’t want to yank at the delicate mother-of-pearl buttons to test it.
Next, I pull out a Valentino dress in deep blue. It’s stretchy, at least. But after I struggle into it, it clings unflatteringly to my hips and thighs and bunches under my arms. Frustrated, I start pulling out whatever comes to hand. A Chanel blazer I can’t even pull on, it’s so tight in the shoulders. Designer jeans that I can tell at a glance won’t get over my thighs, let alone my hips.
Everything is beautiful.
And everything iswrong.
Eventually I find a pair of black leggings that will stretch enough to accommodate my ass, and a soft charcoal-gray cashmere sweater that I’m pretty sure is supposed to be oversized, but fits me just right and ends just above my knees because I’m so short.
So is Eva, I suppose. She justseemsa lot taller.
The underwear is a lost cause. There’s nothing bigger than a C-cup in here, and I am not a C-cup atanyband size. I forget about panties altogether, and pull on my own bra from yesterday, the cheap cotton kind that’s laughable next to Eva’s silk and lace collection.
But I don’t care.
For the first time, seeing these clothes meant for the cookie-cutter women she must usually bring here, I feel a spark of rebellion. She can buy me, but she doesn’t get toeraseme.
I’ve just finished pulling back my hair into a ponytail when I hear a soft knock at the door.
It creaks open and a young maid slips inside, her eyes downcast. She carries a silver tray with a steaming pot and two covered dishes. She sets it down on the table like she’s trying not to make a sound.
When I say thank you, she just nods and turns to leave.
I hesitate for a second. Then I follow.
Because I have no idea where Eva is. Because I’m not going to just sit around like some forgotten doll until she’s ready to play with me again. Because curiosity is clawing at my ribs, and the alternative is dwelling on what’s going on at home with Adrian and the kids.