Page 79 of Spark

I found it oddly intriguing that Anya had given me a Christmas-themed manicure and pedicure. Maybe Darren had been listening to me last night about the holidays, after all. Maybe I could ask for a small Christmas tree for my room or something. That would be nice, especially since no Christmas decorations adorned the house. If my iPod didn’t have a calendar on it, I’d never know what day it was, and that would make things even more miserable than before.

It was weird having Clive and Owen present in the room while Anya and Irina worked. It made everything that much more uncomfortable, the anxiety in the room palpable. I felt like this was an overstep—another invasion of time that was precious to me. It was completely unnecessary, especially after Holly.

When I met Darren for dinner, I waited until he was finished eating, hoping that his satisfied palate would make for better negotiations. I finally got the nerve to speak up when I felt my plate had been diligently cleared enough and cleared my throat.

“Do Clive and Owen have to be present in my room when Anya and Irina are there?” I asked as nicely as possible.

“Yes,” Darren said without even looking at me, dismissing the question.

I grimace at him. “Why? I’m not going to do anything.”

“I know. And them being there is exactly why you won’t.”

I almost rolled my eyes. “Even if they weren’t there, I still wouldn’t do anything. I don’t need a repeat of what happened to Holly,” I said gravely.

“You’ve already admitted to me once that my absence makes you care less about my rules. And I’ve already stretched far enough on letting you roam the woods without your bodyguards as it is. That is as far as my trust in you will go.”

I pursed my lips. “Could they at least just stand outside my open bedroom door?” I tried to counter.

“No. Now, come on. I have a gift for you.”

I paled.

Oh, no. Not another “gift.”

The failed negotiations forgotten, Darren took me by my hand and led me over to the living room where a rectangular box, wrapped in red and gold wrapping paper and a big red bow sat on the coffee table. Setting me down on the couch, Darren placed the present on my lap and sat down across from me.

“Open it,” he said with a nod.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I carefully opened the present; gently tearing off the paper and crumpling it into a ball to make the least amount of mess as possible, I finally opened the box. Pushing aside the white tissue paper, my hands encountered soft black fabric.

Oh, God. Please no lingerie…

Lifting the material in front of my face, I came to realize it was a single pair of black leggings. Confused, I felt the thick cloth in my hands noticing they were fleece lined. There was no way I’d need to wear fleece-lined leggings here, especially since I wasn’t technically allowed to wear pants… so what the fuck were these for?

“Fleece-lined leggings?” I asked him, cocking an eyebrow in question. “I thought these were on the blacklist?”

“I figured you might need them,” he said, that sly little grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Why? Are we going somewhere?” I asked, almost hopeful I’d get a new change of scenery.

He nodded. “You have until tomorrow to pack whatever it is you want or need. We leave in the afternoon.”

“Where are we going?” I asked way too excitedly.

“And spoil the surprise? I don’t think so.”

“Obviously somewhere cold,” I said, giving him the slyness in my smile now.

“And that’s the only hint you’ll get. Now get upstairs and start packing. I have a lot of work to get done before we leave.”

Darren then stood up to leave, kissing me on the forehead before he left the room.

Looking down at the fleece leggings in my hands, I didn’t know what to think. Obviously, he’d decided to exploit my confession about the coming of Christmas and was likely taking me somewhere with snow. Maybe we were going somewhere with mountains? I felt my heart race with excitement and couldn’t help but smile at the idea of getting the fuck out of this house. I was getting tired of beaches surrounding me.

I quickly headed back to my room and looked in my closet, trying to figure out what the hell I should pack. I didn’t have any clothes fit for winter, except for the new leggings in my hand. I briefly wondered if Clive Owen might be able to assist, and then laughed at how funny it might be. I poked my head out of my bedroom door to find the two of them standing like statues as always.

“Hey, Team Rocket, you guys know what the hell I’m supposed to pack for this surprise little trip?”

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