Page 57 of Doctor's Demands
The brunette answers, “He did not. He just told us to work with your natural beauty.”
Picking up my cell, I ask him what this is all about, and he answers for me not to ask questions and let them do their job. When they’re done, I’m to wait for him.
The blonde gestures for me to come and sit in the chair and the two get to work on me. I can’t stop myself from digging for information. “Are there people out there? Like paparazzi?”
The blonde shakes her head and takes out a curling wand, getting to work making spiral curls. The other one puts some kind of cool gel all over my face. “You have gorgeous skin, Petra.”
“Thanks.” I tilt my head back as she smears stuff on my lips. “And what’s this stuff?”
“This will make you glow even more than you would normally,” the brunette tells me. Then she picks up a small, handheld fan and points it at me, making my face get very cold.
The two work on me for about an hour, then turn me around to look at what I’ve become. “Wow!” I smile at my reflection, then at them. “You two are miracle workers. I’ve never looked so good.”
“You were gorgeous already,” the blonde says as she packs up her things. “Have a lovely day.” They leave me sitting in the chair, gazing at myself and wondering what the hell Owen has up his sleeve.
Waiting for nearly half an hour, I get impatient and pick up my cell, when the door opens, and Owen is standing there. He’s wearing a dark blue suit that looks like it cost a million bucks, he has a freshly shaved face, and his hair is cut. He’s Dr. Cantrell, at his finest.
I get up and walk toward him. “Hey,” he says as he looks me over.
“Hey, yourself. You look hot as hell.” I touch his smooth cheek. “You got yourself all cleaned up.”
“I wanted you to get the real me. Not the man I become when I try to hide from the world.” His lips graze mine as he breathes me in.
My head goes light, as the man just gets to me in a way no one ever has. “So, I get the real you. I feel lucky.”
“I feel lucky,” he says as he walks inside, moving me with him and closing the door.
“Did we get all fancy to stay in today?” I ask him as he takes my hand and leads me to the window on the opposite side of the room.
“I’ll let you decide that, Petra.” He pulls me close and kisses me lightly. “Today, you’ll make all the decisions.”
“Okay,” I say, as I feel a little odd. “Um, I hate to bring up bad things, but what about the press and the problem with all that?”
“Fuck them all,” he says, then pulls my hand up and kisses it. “I’m not going to bother explaining a damn thing. Nothing I do is anyone’s concern, save yours, Petra. You’re the only one I care about.”
“Wow. You make me feel pretty special.”
The sound of an airplane seeps into the room, and Owen opens the large window. “It seems it’s time.”
“For what?” I ask. “Do you have a plane coming for us? Are we all going somewhere? Or are just you and I going somewhere?”
“That’s up to you.” He looks out the window, and I follow his gaze.
A banner is flying behind the plane, a white banner with red letters. I can’t read it, it’s too far away, and Owen looks at me with a grin. “I can’t read it, Owen.”
“Wait a minute. It’ll get closer.” His hands begin to get cold, and I look down at our clasped hands, wondering why that is and what he’s doing.
When the plane gets closer, I see the first word, ‘Will.’
My knees buckle. “No …”
He looks at me with worry. “Petra?”
I look at the next word, ‘You.’
“Oh, God!”
“Petra?”
