“See you tomorrow, Miz Sasha,” he replied.
I brushed his arm and smiled. “Thanks, Horatio. Have a good evening.”
His footsteps echoed away from me as I pushed the front door open. The scent of cooking met me, and I paused.
“Prince?” I called, strangely moved by the sensation of walking in to what had become my home, to be met by my fiancé cooking us a meal. It seemed domesticated in a way I’d never imagined.
“In the kitchen,” he replied. I turned the corner and stopped short at the sight of him heading toward me with a wineglass. He was buck naked aside from a black apron around his waist.
“Oh, my!” I snorted. Laughter bubbled out.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said as I took the glass. He turned and flashed me a tantalizing view of the best butt in town.
“Smells good.” I inhaled appreciatively. “Whatcha making?”
“Nouilles dans le fromage fondu avec sauce mornay,” he replied, opening the oven door and checking the contents.
“Wow, sounds fancy,” I said. “What’s in it?”
“Mac and cheese,” he answered, and I choked on another laugh.
“Is that the official French translation?” I asked around a crisp mouthful of wine as I checked him out. He really did have the best ass I’d ever seen.
“No idea. I just made it up,” he said. He brushed past me, swiped my glass, and took a sip. “What’s in the bags?”
“Ooh!” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to tell him. “I got you something.” I was brimming with excitement again.
“For me?” He blinked in surprise. I extended a hand and passed the bags to him. The unmistakable emblem emblazoned on the heavy black paper betrayed the fact that I’d spent the afternoon spending more money than I’d ever blown in one place in my life.
“It’s… Um…” I was suddenly overwhelmed with uncertainty. “I figured you like Versace,” I said. “You keep dressing me in it.”
“You bought this for me?” His voice held wonder.
“Well, technically you did,” I admitted. “I put it on your card.”
“It’s your card,” he said absently as he headed into the living room and sat down with the bags. He reached in and extracted a black silk shirt and held it in front of him. A broad sweep of gold embroidery extended up one side, over the shoulder and around the high collar. He looked at it without saying anything, and my uncertainty grew.
“If it’s too much, I can take it back?” I said. “Um… There are other options in there. More conservative. In case you don’t like it. I know it’s quite elaborate… so…” I felt myself babbling. He looked up at me and I couldn’t read his expression. “I didn’t—”
“I love it!” he said softly. His smile was radiant, and it was as if my sun was shining again. I almost sagged with relief. He tipped out the other bags, revealing a black and gold tie, and a pair of black briefs with a gold embroidered waistband. “Well, now…” He wound the tie around his palm and looked at me appraisingly. “I think I may have some ideas about what we can do with this.”
I swallowed hard. I’d expected this sort of response to the thought of him in those briefs. Now I was imagining what he planned to do with the tie, and I had to reboot my entire fantasy.
He carefully folded each item and packed it all back in one of the bags, then rose and came over to me. “Thank you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me.” I felt ridiculously pleased.
He led me to the dining table and pulled out a chair, then presented me with a plate of his fancy mac and cheese with comical ceremony. “Good?” he asked as he sat beside me, and I took a mouth full.
“Best I ever had!” I said around my food, washing it down with a sip of wine. Itwasgood, though. The man could cook. “Do you really like the shirt?” I was still unsure.
He reached for my hand. “Really,” he said. “Nobody’s ever bought me a gift before. Aside from my mother, I guess. And clients kissing up.”
I frowned. “Nobody?” It seemed odd. He’d been in relationships, surely? Who wouldn’t buy their lover a gift on impulse?
“Nobody,” he repeated. “I’ve always done the buying.” He reached for his glass. And a lot of things started to fall into place for me. Too many affairs that were simply transactions. Little wonder he’d made me sign a contract to move in with him. Things were different for us now, though. I’d felt the shift.
“I’m going to wear it to dinner tomorrow,” he said, looking at me over the brim of his glass. “We’re going to my folks’ place.”
I set my fork down with a clang, certain my eyes bugged out a little.
