I felt overwhelmed by his home, but still appreciative of it’s beauty. I ran a finger along the gleaming dark gray top of the heavy, colossally large table that dominated the room.
I admired the huge arrangement of flowers in the middle of the table. It was a mix of vibrantly colored orchids, displayed in a short, square, intricately carved crimson vase.
I was studying the extravagant view of central park when James reappeared a few minutes later, holding a thin square box and smiling.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Mr. Mercurial
He took my hand and began to lead me again. “I’ll give you the grand tour later,” he muttered, hurrying. He led me up both flights of stairs, then down a long hallway.
“I seem to only get to see very specific parts of your houses,” I responded archly.
He sent me a conciliatory smile. “I’ll make it up to you. Later.”
He pulled me into a room that I could see was the master bedroom just from the monumental size of the bed. The blinds were opened to the same amazing view of the park as the dinning room, just a few stories higher. The window lined nearly an entire wall of the room, floor to ceiling. The bed was a more modern take on the one he had in Vegas, with cleaner lines, but I was sure it had the same function by the cage-like top and thick, square posts. The hues in the room were a mix of bright, varying shades of green, accented with white, with starkly dark wood dominating all of the furniture and the floor. With an entire wall framing a spectacular view of the park, it had the feel of an indoor forest.
“It’s amazing,” I told him honestly.
He smiled, pleased with my reaction.
I noticed a small door with no handle near the open bathroom. It was conspicuous because there was a lit panel with a button beside it. I pointed at it. “Is that an elevator?”
His smile turned wicked. “Yes.”
“I didn’t realize the apartment had an elevator.”
“It has a few, actually. But that one goes somewhere special. I’ll be showing you soon. First, I want you to get on your knees and close your eyes.”
I sent him a startled look. He had switched gears without blinking, as usual. It was hard to keep up with his changing moods.
I knelt, obeying him because we were in his bedroom, and it was just so natural to let him rule me here.
I closed my eyes. After a few heartbeats I felt something cool being placed against the very upper edges of my collarbone.
James straightened the collar of my uniform, shifting it around.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “You can wear it to work.” He tucked what felt like a slightly rough circle of some kind against my chest.
“Okay, open your eyes,” he said finally.
I did, and he pulled me to my feet, leading me into a large, softly lit closet. The closet was twice the size of my bedroom, with expensive men’s clothing lining the walls. It smelled divine, like James himself.
He positioned me in front of a large floor-length mirror, and began to undress me without a word. He undid my tie first, politely hanging it on a hanger. He showed me a large, bare rack in the closet. “This will be for your things. If you run out of room, I’ll make more for you.”
I was a little stunned at his assumption that I would be keeping things here.
“I would very much like for you to use my personal shopper to buy a wardrobe for you here in New York, so you don’t have to move your things across the country. She should be getting in touch with you in a few days.”
“That’s silly. I don’t want you buying me clothes,” I told him, trying not to get angry. “It feels too much like being kept.”
He sighed. “It’s just clothing. I thought we had decided that you weren’t going to balk at gifts.”
I glared at him, and he saw my expression.
“Please, just consider it. You don’t have to decide right now. We have other things to talk about, at the moment.”
I lost my train of thought as he removed my jacket and vest, hanging them. His fingers lingered on the button at my throat. He undid my top four buttons, spreading my shirt open to reveal the necklace he had placed around my neck.
It was lovely, made of some kind of silver metal into what looked like one solid band, but was in fact soft and moveable, just a very seamless looking, tightly linked necklace. It sat right at the very top of my collarbone, at the base of my throat. He was right. It had been hidden just perfectly under my uniform. At the center of the thick choker sat a large diamond studded hoop. I fingered it, and he reached around me to hook his index finger into the loop, tugging lightly.
“It’s lovely,” I told him, but I was troubled. What was it’s significance to him?