* * *
As I headto meet him in the dining room for breakfast, my skin glows from the shower, my hair slightly damp, the perfume I chose a fresh floral scent. Nobody would suspect how I just offered myself to my husband on a plate.
He is already waiting, and as Mrs. Harrington smiles her welcome as she pours him some coffee, I must blush because the knowing expression in her eye tells me I must be a walking advert for the just-fucked look.
She smiles. “I’ll fetch you a pot of tea, Mrs. Ravera.”
“Please call me Tiffany.”
My smile is a warm one, and she nods respectfully but says nothing, and I guess she won’t change a thing. She is the most respectful woman I have ever met and takes her duty seriously with a kindness that is certainly appreciated by me.
My attention turns to my husband and, as always, a thrill passes through me whenever I glance his way.
He has showered and is wearing his customary black shirt tucked into black trousers with a leather belt circling his hips.
The dark script peers out from his open neck, and the gold chain that nestles there is the only adornment he requires, save for his wristwatch and wedding ring.
“We have a busy day.”
He sips his coffee while staring at me with dark intent, causing desire to race through my body like a sprinter heading for the winning line.
“I have lunch with Eliza.” I remind him, and he nods, not appearing very happy about that.
“And dinner with my mother.”
My mouth drops. “Your mother?”
“Yes. She flew in this morning and has requested it.”
“I see.”
I’m slightly nervous about that, and I’m surprised when he reaches for my hand.
“You will love her.”
I smile, loving how our hands fit together perfectly, loving the growing intimacy we share, something that has surprised me more than anything.
“Why is she here?”
I’m mildly curious, and yet something in his expression mystifies me.
“Perhaps we should ask her.”
“Don’t you know?”
I don’t believe that for a second because Joseph appears to be aware of everything before it even happens.
“I have my suspicions, and it’s not the shopping trip she speaks about.”
“There are shops in New York.”
“Which is why I suspect she is shopping for something unavailable there.”
“You’re a strange man, Joseph.”
I squeeze his hand gently, reluctant to break contact, even for a second.
“Thank you.”
