Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
“Where’s your bracelet?” he asks me, without even saying hello.
I smile. “It’s safe in its box, don’t worry. There’s no way I’d wear it in the swimming pool, I’d never risk damaging it in a million years!”
I think he’ll grin along with me, but his expression stays deadly serious.
“You might not want to wear it in the swimming pool, Cass, but you can put it back on as soon as you come out again. That’s what changing room lockers are for.”
I’m not sure I agree that changing room lockers are for storing crazy expensive jewellery in, but I shrug and give him another smile.
“Ok, I will. I’ll take it with me next time.”
“Just make sure you do,” he says, and his tone is harsh enough that I stop arranging the stir fry ingredients on the counter.
“Sorry, what?”
“Take your bracelet with you and put it on as soon as you get out of the pool. Your wrist needs it.” He pauses. “Your wrist deserves it, Cass. You should wear it every chance you get.”
There’s a weird moment between us, like I’ve done something wrong, and I don’t understand it. I’m on the verge of saying sorry, even though I don’t know what the apology would be for.
Luckily, Ant cuts in with a change of mood, his smile bright again, and relief washes through me, like I’ve escaped a conviction.
“Have you diced your peppers, princess?”
I hold up the chopping board. “Diced and ready to go.”
“That’s my girl. Pizza can go fuck itself, hey?”
Janie and Penny were going back to Penny’s for a pizza after swimming and I was tempted to go with them. I fancied a ham and pepperoni stuffed crust, but I don’t tell Ant that, just nod my head with a smile.
“Yep. No pizza for me this week.”
“No shitty takeout pizza any week I hope, baby. You’re way too precious for that.”
He seems bossy tonight, and I wonder if he’s had a crap day.
“Are you alright?” I ask him, and he pulls a confused expression.
“Of course I am, sweetheart. Why wouldn’t I be? I have you on the phone.”
He smiles bright, but I’m not buying into it. I think about digging to find out if anything has happened at work, but I don’t. He’ll tell me if he wants to, and that’s my mantra now. It’s been my mantra ever since I fucked up with the finger puppets, so I let it go.
I give him a big smile. “I’m happy I’ve got you on the phone, too. I’m missing you so much.”
That manages to switch his mood back to normal.
“Ditto, gorgeous. I’m going to be so proud to show you off to my team.”
I haven’t told Ant about my stunning black dress yet, because I want to surprise him with it. I haven’t told him how nervously excited I am, desperate to get a glimpse of the other half of Ant’s life and what it means to him. Even now, after so much time spent with the man I adore, there is still so much I have to learn about him, and Berlin is going to be the place for that – I can feel it. At least, I hope so.
“One more day to go,” he says, and the nerves in my stomach do a nice little flip.
Yep. One more day and I’ll be in Berlin, surrounded by people who know him. I’ll be counting down every minute.
I’ve told Ant over and over that he doesn’t need to fly all the way back to the UK just to pick me up and fly back again, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. He wants to accompany me through every step of the way.
He arrives back on Friday afternoon with a huge bouquet of red roses in his hands, dressed in his lightest grey suit with a jet-black tie, and even though he’s tired, he’s the one who makes us chicken and mushroom paella for dinner.
He sets up a lovely meal at the dining table, despite my protests, and pours me a glass of champagne.
“I shouldn’t have this,” I tell him. “I’ve been firmly on mineral water for days.”
He shrugs it off like champagne means nothing, even though he looks on pizza like it’s the devil.
“You deserve it after a long week at work, baby. Relax and enjoy the evening.”
I laugh. “You’re the one who should be relaxing and enjoying the evening. You’re the one who just flew back from Germany to collect me for our trip.”
“You’re worth it,” he says. “And worth a lovely big glass of champagne to start your weekend, too.”
I’m looking forward to a night of hot, loving sex and snuggles afterwards, but that isn’t on the cards for me. I know by the way he grips my hand tight as we climb the stairs together.
I’m glad I opted for a few more glasses of champagne over dinner once we slip under the covers, freshly showered and dry. He slides his hand between my thighs as soon as I’m settled, fingers rough as he circles my clit. Fuck, he’s in one of his especially dominant moods.