Chapter 18
VENUS
20 vouchers
This might’ve been the best sleep I’d had in years, I thought, stretching lazily as I rolled over onto a soft mattress and sank into the fluffiest pillow I’d ever felt.
Wait.
Soft mattress? Fluffy pillow?
This wasn’t my bed.
My eyes snapped open as I shot upright. What the hell? I rubbed at my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of last night.
Mr. Sinclair and I had gone on a date. We were waiting for the car. I got in… and must’ve dozed off. So, by deduction, this had to be his place.
I looked down, I’m still wearing the dress from last night. No smudged makeup, no wrinkled mess, no unfamiliar aches. He hadn’t touched me. I was sure of it. Mr. Sinclair didn’t even like me. If there was one thing I could trust, it was that.
I scanned the room. Luxurious. Modern. Spacious. The kind of place that whispered wealth with every square foot. It was bigger than the apartment I’d shared with my parents. Probably bigger than the entire floor.
I slid off the massive bed, noticing my heels neatly placed by the side. I drank from the covered glass of water on the nightstand— – thoughtful–and made my way to what I hoped was the bathroom.
First door? Nope. A massive, empty closet.
Second door? Jackpot. The bathroom was… stunning. Bigger than my entire room back home. Marble counters. Rainfall shower. Gleaming floors. It was excessive in the most mesmerizing way.
I found a brand–new toothbrush in the cabinet, freshened up, and quietly padded out in search of my moody host.
At the top of the stairs, I paused. Two stories. Of course. I followed the sound of his voice downstairs, tracing it to a kitchen that looked more like a showroom than a place where anyone actually cooked.
And then I saw him.
Aaron was by the counter, dressed in a white tee and grey sweatpants
Grey Freaking. Sweatpants.
The shirt hugged his body like it had a personal vendetta against restraint. I’d never seen him in anything but suits, always buttoned–up, always pristine. But this? This was illegal.
Aaron Sinclair could get it. Anywhere. Anytime. My kitty practically performed a symphony at the sight.
I shamelessly drank him in, broad shoulders, toned arms, that quiet dominance in the way he stood. I snapped out of it fast, rubbing my face. God, please tell me I wasn’t drooling. That would’ve been a new level of mortifying.
“Good morning,” I murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
“Coffee?” he asked, already loading beans into the machine.
“Yes, please.” I watched him move, precise and calm, like nothing fazed him.
“You didn’t take me home last night,” I said, mostly curious.
You were asleep. I couldn’t get your keys without waking you,” he replied, flat as ever. Monotone. Unbothered. Predictably unreadable.
“There’s a menu on the table,” he added. “Pick something and order breakfast.”
Sure enough, there it was. A thick stack of inenus I didn’t recognize. High–end places. Probably the type that didn’t even list prices. “Don’t you have cereal?” I asked. “Or I don’t know. pancake mix?”
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11:07 AM PP
Chapter 18.
“Pantry,” he said, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of me and gesturing toward a nearby door.
“Milk? Sugar?”
“Sugar.” He handed it to me without a glance.
“Eat and shower. When you’re done, I’ll take you home. I’ll be in the study.”
“I don’t have anything to change into,” I said, glancing down at my dress.
“I’ll find something for you to wear while I put your clothes in the wash.”
That was… unexpectedly thoughtful. Maybe he was trying.
“Thank you.” I said softly.
He nodded and walked out, silent as ever.
B 20 vouchers
Of course he had cereal. Not just one or two boxes either, rows of them. His pantry was fully stocked, like he was preparing for the apocalypse. Most of the boxes were still sealed. Which made me wonder… why did he even keep them?
grabbed a new box, poured a bowl, and sat down to eat. As I ate, I remembered I’d promised Jude I’d have coffee with him today. I opened my phone for the first time and texted him a quick apology, asking for a rain check.
I was a
about to close it when a notification popped up.
AARON SINCLAIR AND A MYSTERY WOMAN?
I clicked the article.
The headline stared back at me, bold and unforgiving. The photos attached were from last night. My face wasn’t visible but Aaron’s was.
Oh, shit. The flash I saw hadn’t been on after all.
“Here. Change out of the dress and give it
all I could find.”
He tossed it to me.
me,” Aaron’s voice came from behind. He held up what looked like a black T–shirt. “This is
“Thanks.” I gathered the dishes, rinsed them, and headed back to the guest room. I changed into the T–shirt, It was soft, smelled faintly like him and handed him my dress.
I brushed my hair and put it up in a messy bun to look presentable atleast, and that’s when it hit me.
Today’s the day.
The day Mr. Sinclair was going to announce our engagement.
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