YOU'LL ALWAYS COME BACK TO ME...

CHAPTER 14 - MARRIED

Elizabeth's POV...

I was sitting in my leather chair when I heard a ding... an e-mail from-- of course who else? The billion dollar asshole. Sorry. I cannot help myself giving him savage label. Believe me when I say I utterly dislike him. Wait... Okay, I've got two exceptions...

I have to admit that I do like his voice, that baritone sound over the intercom. It sounds powerful... very firm and authoritative. And the other one is his penmanship which, I confess, has took a great force of attraction in my preference to a guy. But no matter how those two of his attributes touch my inner and silent desirability, my disdain towards him cannot be lessen by any means.

The e-mail: Make a call to Hailey's laundry shop. Tell that I want my complete tuxedo be ready for pick up by tomorrow. You pick it up and bring it in my penthouse. I will send you another message over the phone later for my home address. Call also the Giuccelli's winery store and make an order of a dozen boxes of prosecco. I promised my sister that I will be in charge of them for the charity ball. You give my dad's address for the delivery.

Important note: MAKE THE CALL NOW AND WHEN YOU BRING MY SUIT DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING IN MY HOUSE.

Damn! Did he really think that I will have any interest in whatever he has in his house? Argh! Fan... fan... fan your head Lizzy! Don't let your brain explode in anger. It doesn't worth it.

I cannot help myself from scoffing and extending resistance to defy the effect is actually wearing me out. Huh! What an insolent brute! I really don't feel meeting him. If he is capable of pesting me despite his absence, what more when he is just around? I am not sure what I might do when I see him face to face... I am afraid I might turn into a dragoness and blow his face with the amount of fire he deserves. He is really getting into my nerves. Why will I touch his things? Oh for God's sake, not in the slightest idea I will ever let my skin get contact with all of his things. I don't know how many microbes are there from those demi-mondaine he brings home... eeww!! The idea is unforgivably cringe-worthy. I should bring disinfectant and after I have gone from his penthouse I'll call straight away to my physician to give me a shot of a... of... of what???

...maybe an anti James' microbes?

I know it is not my business to look after his whereabouts but as long as I am working under his roof and our dear proximity is often in long exposure I will do what I consider is rightful on my part.

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So Elizabeth, the following day, did exactly what she had been told to do... or maybe the right term is commanded. Upon entering the building she was halted by the receptionist at the foyer, asking her the usual courtesy protocol when someone enters in. After a minute or two of explanation, she was given the permission to go to the uppermost floor of the building where his penthouse is located. And guess what? As she walks gracefully and enters the elevator she was escorted by two security officers. That was embarassing. According to her, that was the first time she ever had that sort of treatment so demeaning. Why would he need to send her in when he doesn't even trust her.

Hah! I could have had even advised them to give me a grey jumpsuit and a pair of handcuffs to make my horrible situation even worse. What is that??!! I feel like I am a convicted criminal who was escorted by two officers while departing from a cell...

Her mind continued scoffing with endless vile throughout the lift ride. She hated so much whenever the devil enters her thought. It was like he holds the power of transforming her attitude into somewhat of an indignant virago.

When she had finally arrived in his haven she entered cautiously. It was not because she didn't want to bump with and break anything inside but it was because of her silly assertion about the microbes that might stick to her body. That was an idiotic thought but she hated it the same. She roamed around her eyes in search of his bedroom. His wardrobe would be probably there. She noticed how everything is neat. Almost spotlessly clean! But of course, he has a personal cleaning attendant that maintains orderliness in his obviously not so humble abode. The proof is right before her eyes and it cannot be concealed. He's the ultimate precision-freak!

Her eyes caught the bedroom door. She immediately approached that particular direction with brazen assurance. Proven the room right of her presumption, she peeked in before entering. All around is very masculine, even the scent... hmmm... sandalwood. She then looked around searching for her target furniture, his wardrobe. She opened the white- coated door situated on the right side of the room only to find it was the bathroom. She peeped in and was amazed to see how magnificent it is. She saw the wide variety of perfumes at the bottom edge of the big mirror. It was really a grandeur sight to behold! She suddenly came to visualize how he would look like after oozing out from the steamy shower... Hair dripping wet, skin flushed, a sturdy body with all the muscles sculpted in perfect places, his bare torso where--

"No no no!!! Erase... erase!!! What took me at the idea?? I will never ever fantasize that devil!"

She rushed out like a thunderbolt from the bathroom. Entangled with the beauty of his interior preference, she didn't realize she had already stepped in. She was terrified of how come that thought wandered audaciously inside her head without notice.

Silly! Silly, disgraceful thought!

She needed to make things clear. Firstly, she has no good reasons to have nor plot any intention of fantasizing his boss. That could never exist anywhere else in the far end of her road. Secondly, whether the devil surpasses her expectation of a real handsome reference or just live up in a customary level, she has to take control not to fall prey to his deceiving beauty. Thirdly, she could dream of anything so heavenly but not him. Not him... ever!

After several frustrating attempts of searching his wardrobe she decided to place the tuxedo in his bed. She admitted that the bed is another grandeur... So silky soft and looks very comfortable. Before her head could aim with no permission to go for another mile of imagining the figure of the owner lying down, a sequel of the steamy shower, she sat down on one side to recalibrate and clear her thought. If it was her frustration from a defeated effort to find his closet or his male accent hovering the atmosphere that is causing a playful, flirty, and unsettling scenario, she didn't know and didn't care to go further and look for what is provoking her to such flights of fancy. She remained unmoved for a short while until something caught her attention.

There was a picture of a little girl in his bedside table...

I didn't know he has a daughter. She's very lovely. Maybe she resembles much her mom... or maybe him? How would I know? I haven't seen his face yet.

She came more closely at the picture and the next thing caught her. A sudden feeling of something oddly familiar took place somewhere in her body she couldn't specifically recognize the spot. It seemed vague but there was a strong hold over her that she cannot put into words. There was a familiar pull of which she couldn't deny was coercive almost causing a sensation of threat. The fear that wasn't there started to sprawl all over her body as if it wanted to rob an important part of her. It was a heavy spellbound and her eyes were holding forewarned teardrops. How could she ignore the sudden effect when all her body fibers unexpectedly became susceptible to unexpressed feelings radiating from the personal space of someone she cares to know the very least. She was about to wipe them but was startled by a knock at the door.

"Miss, I think you have already made your purpose in coming here. May I ask you if we could already go downstairs? And... sorry for the interruption."

The officer interrupted her attention that was being held transfixed by the picture. She wanted to stay a little more although it would be peculiar to do so. Why would she do that when from the very start she hated the proprietor of that territory? Promptly, she stood up and walked out of the room and before closing the door she took one last glance at the picture on the bedside table.

I never thought he is married...