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One look at her and anyone would know she barely slept a wink. Her body was on autopilot, her mind demanding coffee. The sound of multiple feet marching through the house had her eyes flying open and she hissed, regretting the sudden movement.
Curiosity drove her down to the living room where delivery men, one after another, dropped huge parcels, then exited the room. Her lethargic mind couldn't quite think of what to make of the sight.
Her phone rang. Bringing it to her ear without checking the caller ID, she said, "Hello?"
"Hello Trinity." The voice was unmistakable.
"Michael?" she said and instantly felt foolish — of course it was him.
"Expecting someone else?" he asked in a playful tone.
"N...no," she stammered. Even over the phone he could still make her feel flustered.
"Good, have you seen the delivery men?"
Trinity looked up as another man dropped a package on the floor and then left the room.
"Yes, but I don't understand what’s going on."
"This is for you." His voice filtered down the phone lines into her ears, and all her senses soaked it in.
"For me?" she managed to choke out, completely confused.
She had shopped for her and Miranda’s clothes a long time ago. And even if they did need something, the number of items coming through that door were tallying up to be a small mountain.
"To add to your supplies," he clarified, slightly impatient.
Realization dawned on her. "Oh."
"I want to help in any way possible, so don't hesitate to call me if you need me to do something more," he continued.
"Thank you, thank you so much!" She couldn't help it and jumped up and down, happiness gushing out of her.
"You don't need to thank me," he replied with a low, amused chuckle.
"But I'm really grateful." She beamed with excitement at the prospect of working on her supplies.
Yesterday, she had been plagued by how much she still needed to get — today was not going to be like that. It’s as if he read her mind.
"Are you really grateful?" He asked the question in a low tone that left her senses whimpering.
"Yes!" She sounded eager — though for entirely different reasons than it had been. Her eyes shuddered for a moment to gather her composure, only for him to shatter it his next words.
"Then have dinner with me." His voice lowered even more, affecting like a phantom caress.
"When were you thinking?"
"Be ready by six. The chauffeur will pick you up."
"Where are we going?"
"You’re so nosey." He chuckled, and her breath hitched at the dark spice in his laughter — it promised a million and one things, all decadent.
"Ummm…" Eloquent? Not.
"Anticipation is good for the soul, I hear." On that note, he dropped the call.
