Chapter Thirty One
The Gamble
“Anya?” he exclaimed, surprised to see her in his kitchen at that time of night; groin immediately going to red-alert at the sight of her in high-heels skirt and hose and a tight tee shirt, hair hanging loose over her shoulders.
It was not one hour after her conversation with Rajiv and, far from having taken his urgings of yet more caution and stealth to heart, her patience, as she had known it would, had finally snapped.
“Is something wrong?” Lambert asked.
“I need to speak with you,” she told him, her previously habitual “Master”, for once, not completing the sentence.
Lambert’s spirits rose at this development. Could she be experiencing second thoughts for having allowed her “Spiritual guide” to call a halt to the game she had taken such pleasure in?
