Part 10 (1/2)

”I've made you an appointment at the spa for ten.”

”What about work?”

He frowned. ”Ms. Jones is expecting you Wednesday morning. You'll work five hours then and five hours on Thursday.”

The concession he was forced to make regarding her job still apparently bothered him.

”Thank you.”

He nodded, brus.h.i.+ng off her grat.i.tude. ”Get dressed. I'll walk you to your room.”

Standing, he stretched as she quickly replaced her clothing. Glaring down at the spiked heels, she opted to walk to her room barefoot. It was after midnight and she was exhausted.

Lucian escorted her to the thirtieth floor and handed her a keycard when they reached her room. She couldn't believe she was actually going to sleep in one of the Patras suites. As the door opened, she gasped. She'd cleaned these suites several times, each one was the same, but this one was somehow different.

Beyond the numerous boxes from the boutique, stacked along the wall were beautiful arrangements of flowers. The room was filled with the soft fragrance of lilies. Scout laughed and went to admire the flowers, caressing the delicate petals and sniffing their gentle scent. Turning, she found Lucian watching her, a slight grin on his face.

”You did this?” she asked, an unfamiliar b.u.t.tery sensation curling inside of her.

”I didn't know what flowers you liked. I see lilies were a good choice.”

”They're beautiful. It'll be like sleeping in a fairytale garden.”

The bed was turned down and a soft silk nightgown was laid out at the foot of it. This would be her reward, her one indulgence for trading a bit of her dignity to be here. At the moment, seeing such opulence offered to her, she suffered no form of regret.

Her fingers ran over the material, softer than a whisper. She had never slept in something like that. What if there was a fire and she had to get out of the building quickly?

Lucian cleared his throat. ”I'll be in and out all morning and probably won't see you until just before our dinner tomorrow night. Everything you need you should have. It's a formal affair, so one of the gowns we bought today should do. The girls at the salon have their instructions and if you need anything else I've left you the number to my a.s.sistant, Seth. He can answer any questions you have.”

After the intimate way they had spent their evening, his instructions struck her as awfully businesslike, jolting her conscience back to awareness of their arrangement. She nodded and stepped back, taking on what she hoped signified a more professional and refined position. Her expression sobered.

”Thank you for everything.” She wondered if she should address him as Mr. Patras now that they were being formal again.

”I'll see you tomorrow. I expect you at my suite, ready to go, by six. Latch the door behind me.”

Remaining a safe distance behind, she followed him to the door. He stepped into the hall and hesitated as if he wished to say something. ”Good night, Evelyn.”

”Good night.”

He turned away and Scout shut the door. Gently closing the latch, she exhaled for probably the first time since that morning. Had it really only been one day since she agreed to this? It had been the longest day of her life. And the strangest. And, if she was honest, the headiest.

She went to the bathroom and washed up. There was a basket of toiletries. She brushed her teeth and even flossed with the fancy little flossers provided. Her heavy eyes stared at the Jacuzzi tub longingly. She was so tired she'd likely drown if she took a bath. Sighing, she turned and went to the bedroom.

The empty drawer slid quietly open. Drawers! Never had any of them before. How bizarre her situation was.

A pang of guilt skewered her when she thought about Parker. He was likely worried sick about her. Lucian said her appointment was at ten. Scout was usually up way earlier than that. Her guilt eased as she decided she'd go see Parker in the morning and explain everything then.

She gently took off her delicately sewn, expensive clothing and laid it out in an empty drawer. Her toes tapped as she eyeballed the little nightgown on the bed. In her old bag she found her worn-in jeans, slid them over her legs and attached her money belt to her waist, then slid the nightgown over top. It was so soft it was like being nude.

Her tired body climbed into the bed and crawled under the heavy covers.

”Holy f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t!” she moaned. She was sleeping on a cloud.

Chapter 10.

Temper Scout woke at five, her body used to getting up for work. The first thing she did was sigh blissfully when she realized she wasn't dead and the reason her body didn't ache was simply that she'd slept on the most decadent bed in the world. Scrambling up, she rushed into the bathroom and filled the tub.

In the basket of toiletries she found bubble bath, bath salts, shower gels, soaps, some gritty stuff she couldn't read the name of, and various other potions and lotions. She hadn't a clue how to use such things or in what order they should be used, so she simply waited for the tub to fill and dumped them inside.

When she pressed the b.u.t.ton for the jets they roared to life and everything began to churn and bubble. She hastily removed her clothes and climbed in the warm soothing bath.

Sweet mother of all that is holy!

With her body in the water, she giggled. The soaps and salts gave the water a satin feel. She simply luxuriated in it for a long while. As the water grew cold, her pruned fingers unplugged the drain and filled the tub with fresh water. The dirt washed away from her skin and it was like nothing she ever imagined. She was finally, for the first time she could ever recall, fully clean.

Her gaze found the basket on the counter, then moved down to her legs. She lifted her arms and frowned. After only a few minutes of consideration, she climbed out of the tub and dribbled over to the basket. It was cold outside of the water. She quickly found the razor and shaving cream and jumped back in the tub.

Scout examined both objects. Luckily, there was a little folded paper stuck to the shaving cream with pictures on it. Shaving couldn't be that complicated.

Popping the cap off, she squirted some of the cream in her palm. It smelled like peaches and was actually more like jelly than cream. Her finger spread it around and it turned white and fluffy.

Getting the razor out of the packaging was no easy task. It required another trip out of the tub and the use of a small set of scissors she found in a little kit with a nail file and clippers. By the time she had everything she needed her water had run cold again so she did a refill, this time foregoing all the soaps, salts, and jets.

”Okay, Scout, you can do this. Time to get girlie.”

She squeezed a big pile of peach-scented gel into her palm and spread it thickly over her leg. Swis.h.i.+ng her hands in the water, she picked up the razor. It glided up her calf slowly like a snowplow clearing away a blizzard. The blade immediately needed to be rinsed, and she repeated the process.

Five minutes later she was sitting in hairy, peach-scented sludge and completely grossed out. No longer clean. Worse, although everything looked good at first, her skin had begun to bleed where she'd accidentally made little nicks.

”s.h.i.+t.”

Growing frustrated, she abandoned her plan to also shave under her arms, and stood. Reaching blindly beneath the sludge, she felt around and released the plug. The water drained leaving a slimy film at the bottom of the once-s.h.i.+ny tub. Embarra.s.sment flooded her and she suddenly wanted to cry.

Scout ignored the mess, needing a shower more than the tub needed one. Moving to the enclosed gla.s.s stall, she turned on the water and rinsed away the proof of her disastrous first attempt at being girlie. She felt marginally better after she shampooed her hair with a lovely, foamy wash. Her hair had never been so soft.

Once she dried herself off and attached little sc.r.a.ps of tissue to the nicks that refused to stop bleeding, she cleaned the tub. By the time all was said and done it was seven o'clock. If she planned on catching Parker she needed to get a move on.

Forgoing the numerous boutique packages and bags, Scout slid on her jeans, hoodie, and old sneakers, ensuring that her money belt was wrapped tightly around her waist. There was no way she was walking all the way to St. Christopher's in death shoes. She quickly made the bed, and because of her own stupid embarra.s.sment, she placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door and left.

It was cold and she regretted not waiting for her hair to dry or taking her new coat. She walked fast, taking advantage of all shortcuts, and cursing herself for not bringing Parker one of the apples from her room. Dodging into an alley, quickly pulling five dollars from her money belt, she made a detour to a bakery and bought him a huge m.u.f.fin. The cost was exorbitant for what was basically bread, but she had been eating so well, Parker deserved a treat too.

Scout made it to the shelter just in time. She spotted Parker's brooding face as he came out of the school doors. He hunched into his sweater, s.h.i.+elding away the cold, and she ran over to him.

”Parker,” she called and he turned, relief clear on his face.

”Jesus! Scout, where the h.e.l.l've you been? I've been worried sick.”