Page 23 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
“If he comes, can you promise no paparazzi at the country club?” I asked quietly while leaning into Adonis.
“I can shut the entire country club down for just us and Garrick’s team, if that’s what it’ll take for you to feel comfortable.”
“You’d do that?”
“It’s already done,” he replied smoothly.
I turned back to Ellis and his wife and nodded. “Okay. We’ll be there.”
5:00a.m.
My eyes opened to the sound of my five o’clock alarm. I didn’t mind getting up early in the mornings, especially when a new day meant the opportunity to accrue more wealth. To me, golfing with Ellis Garrick wasn’t going to be about the game at all, just like the opera hadn’t been about the performance. It was about positioning myself at the right place at the right time and learning the positions of every powerful piece on the chessboard to figure out how to win the game.
Before starting my morning workout, I eased down the hallway to peek in on Sim. My third leg jumped at the sight of her—one leg sticking out from underneath the sheets, a juicy asscheek popping out of her shorts, and a pillow clenched between her thighs. I ran my tongue over my lips before easing the door shut and heading to my home gym.
During my workout, I ran down my mental checklist of everything I needed to have taken care of before we left to meet with Ellis at the golf course.
Extra security for Sim and Mason, check.
Shut down the country club and golf course for the duration of our visit, check.
Make sure I don’t get caught staring too hard at . . . her.
I’d only been in Simora’s presence for less than forty-eight hours, and I already felt myself becoming more and more intrigued with her. From the kiss we shared in front of the camera to the way my hand naturally fit around her slim waist when we were in public, I couldn’t erase her from my memory like I’d been able to do with other women in the past. She had some invisible hold on me that I couldn’t explain.
My forehead was drenched with sweat after my workout as I headed for the bathroom to freshen up before we had to get ready to leave. I wiped my cooling towel down my bare, tattooed chest as I trekked from the gym back to my bedroom. I caught a figure in my peripheral view and turned to see Simora standing at the stovetop in the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she greeted me, instantly darting her eyes away from my hard chest.
“Mornin’. What’s got you up so early?” I inquired, glancing at the digital clock on the stove that read 5:57 a.m.
“I thought I’d get up early and make Mason some pancakes for breakfast before we leave for the course . . . and you too, if you’re interested.”
“Pancakes? I can’t remember the last time I had those.”
“Well, I guess it’s your lucky day.”
“I guess it is. How did you enjoy the opera last night?” I quizzed, changing the subject as I inched closer to the kitchen.
Simora took a step back before turning around to look through my cabinets for cooking supplies. “It was cool. The theater was beautiful, and the champagne was surprisingly good.”
“Bowls are in the bottom cabinet to the left,” I instructed, tired of watching her struggle.
“Thanks.”
“You think you’d go again?”
Her shoulders rose and fell with a light shrug as she grabbed a mixing bowl. “I don’t see why not. I liked getting all dolled up—hated the paparazzi part, but still, it was nice to feel beautiful.”
“You look beautiful every day, Sim,” I complimented before realizing what I was saying out loud.
She darted her eyes down to the mixing bowl in her grasp. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied with a subtle nod.
I liked the idea of being the first to show her something new. It had nothing to do with power or control. I enjoyed being in her company, Mason’s too.
“Ellis and Jeanine seemed nice too,” she added. “I’m sorry for calling you D in front of them. It just slipped out.”
