Chapter 5
1715 Words
•Miguel•
“Try this.” I held up the cream-colored blouse, half amused, half annoyed she hadn’t picked it herself.
Penelope wrinkled her nose. “That’s something a kindergarten teacher would wear.”
I arched a brow. “You work at an orphanage, you teach the children.”
“okay, fine.”
She snatched the blouse from my hand, brushing her fingers against mine.
I couldn't tell if it was accidental or deliberate.
I'd convinced her with little effort to go shopping with me and instead of giving me a sense of power all I felt was worry.
I leaned against the display table, arms crossed. “You’ve tried on four dresses and rejected ten more. Are you planning to walk barefoot and in prayer robes through Oakridge?”
“I didn’t realize this was your idea of fun.” She shot me a sideways glance as she examined another rack, completely ignoring my question. “You don’t strike me as the ‘mall date’ type.”
“I’m not.”
God, no. I usually sent assistants or ignored clothes altogether. But spending time with her, watching her move in a uncertain manner was the perfect way to spend my day, even though she was more daring now.
Her hand paused on a pale blue dress, she ran her thumb down the fabric.
“That one,” I said.
She sighed. “You like this one too?”
“I like you in that color.”
She hesitated, then turned to face me. “You haven’t seen me in it.”
“I don’t need to.”
Her cheeks flushed, but she masked it with a scoff. “You’re insufferable.”
“Just try the dress, shell. It is obvious you love it.”
“I don’t,” she said too quickly.
I stepped closer, just enough that she had to look up at me. “Lying’s not very saintly, Penelope.”
Her breath hitched, only slightly. She looked away, picking another hanger off the rack, something grey and shapeless.
Ah, finally a defensive move.
I didn’t let her escape that easy. “You’d rather blend in or be invisible?”
“I just want to enjoy catering for people, what I wear doesn't matter.” she muttered.
I didn’t buy it. Not for a second. “Oh, Shell. You haven't noticed your outfit choices have you?”
She froze. Bingo.
“Check the couches” I kept my voice low. “The skirts you picked hug your curves perfectly, and the way you tuck your hair behind your ear in that innocent saintly way. You'll be catching more attention than you think, princess.”
She turned, eyes flashing. “I tuck my hair when it’s in the way.”
“No, sweetheart. I'm not trying to brag but I think you do it to gain my attention.”
She stepped back, but not fast enough. I caught the way her fingers tightened around the hanger, knuckles white.
“You think you’re clever,” she said.
“I know I am.”
“God’s watching, Dr. Ramirez.”
“Sure he is, he's seeing the way your heart is beating so fast at my words and how hard your clenching your thighs right now.”
She looked like she wanted to say something biting, something holy, something that would damn me straight to hell but she held her silence.
“Try on the blue dress.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And if I do?”
I smirked. “Then I’ll know you like when I tell you what to do.”
She turned on her heel and marched toward the fitting room.
I watched her go, the swing of her hips not nearly as modest as she probably thought. I rolled up my sleeves, suddenly needing the cool air.
Fuck, I wasn't supposed to have any physical contact with her she made me want to burn and f*****g explode.
I nearly pulled that f*****g skirt over her and stuck my face in between her p***y.
Penelope Green, I will make sure the next time we touch you'll be the one begging for it.
~`~
She refused a ride back to the convent, and even though it angered me to accept I did it anyway.
I needed to pack for the trip, and make sure everything I planned is in place.
I folded the last button-down into my suitcase and was just reaching for my cologne when the front door opened without warning.
Damien never knocked, he always claimed it was because I “never answered in time,” but really, it was just his excuse to be a nosy bastard.
“Packing already?” he called out, his voice echoing. “You’re not usually this punctual unless you’re chasing—oh, I don’t know—jailbait?”
I didn’t look up. “You say it like she's a freaking child, she's twenty-three.”
He strolled in already pulling a bottle of my best scotch from the shelf. “Isn’t there a law against going after nuns?”
This fucker and his stupid runny mouth.
I zipped the case shut and tossed him a flat stare. “If you came here to preach morality, you’re about a decade late.”
“You know I always support your conquest schemes but this is f*****g insane.”
I shrugged off his drama. “Id that's all you've come to say, please leave.”
He poured himself a generous glass, took a sip, and leaned against the doorway, conveniently ingoring me.
“The elaborate plan you had was to drag a baby nun to a rural town under the guise of “volunteering” and you think nobody suspects a thing?”
“She’s not a nun yet,” I said evenly. “You know what's crazy? Mother Superior offered her to me, I only accepted the offering.”
Damien snorted. “Sure. Such a sweet caring philanthropist.”
I smirked. “The girl wants to come, she enjoys traveling and Oakridge is part of her ‘To Travel List’.”
“You’re straight up scary, how do you even know where she wants to travel to?”
I turned, adjusting the strap on my duffel bag. “I saw it in her notes, 47 places she wishes to travel to. No funds and exposure and that is exactly why she needs me.”
He tilted his head, watching me. “I thought this obsession would end once you left for Turkey and you met their women, but f**k you're still pining over the girl. Does she know you saved her life?”
“Not exactly.” I murmured.
Damien raised his brows. “You’re f*****g in love with her.”
I didn’t answer, there was no answer for that.
I wasn’t in love with Penelope, that was too shallow a description. She's like Mother Confessor and I was f*****g compelled by her, to do her bidding, to worship the air she exhales and kiss the floor she walked on.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re in deep.”
“She made a vow.”
“Last I checked, she is to make one to God, Miguel.”
I met his gaze, slow. “She made a vow to me first.”
He blinked. “After the crash?”
I nodded once. “She begged me to save her, she gave herself to me. she was mine.”
Damien stared at me like I’d just confessed murder, which, in all fairness, wasn’t that far off from how some would see it.
“You’re really gonna do this?” he asked finally, quieter this time.
I looked down at my watch. “Flight leaves at seven, we'll be in Oakridge by nine.”
Damien blew out a breath. “Well, hell. You better pray she doesn’t break your heart and run back to God.”
I grabbed my coat. “If she runs, I’ll follow.”
He laughed, dry and dark. “That’s the creepiest romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I’m so proud.”
He sank into the leather chair by the fireplace, swirling the last of his scotch. “So, how’s the property coming along? That hillside estate you bought near Lake Everly?”
“Almost done,” I said, zipping up my duffel. “Interior’s being finished this week. Kitchen tiles just came in.”
“Still flipping or keeping this one?”
I paused. “Keeping it.”
His brow rose. “Interesting. You never keep anything.”
I shrugged. “It’s a good spot, it is quiet and has a big yard.”
“You planning to settle down there?” He grinned. “Or is it for someone?”
I ignored the bait. “I have plans for it.”
He sat up a bit. “Plans involving Penelope?”
I didn’t answer immediately, just picked up my coat and slung it over my shoulder.
“You’re fixing up a whole house for her?” Damien asked, half laughing, half stunned. “Holy crap, fixing a house for a woman you don't know wants you.”
“Not this again.”
He watched me for a moment. “You ever think she might not want a lake house?”
“She does,” I said honestly. “Do you want to know how I know?”
He leaned back, exhaling. “Truthfully, no. I'm scared for the girl.”
“I’m not going to rush her,” I said. “All I'm doing is keeping things in check for when we are official.”
Damien whistled low. “Alright, then. Lake house, huh? What’s next?”
“A music studio in Manhattan,” I replied. “She likes music.”
That made him go quiet.
“You’re building her a music studio?”
I didn’t respond, but the look on my face said enough.
He let out a dry laugh. “Okay, now I’m worried.”
I cracked a small grin and grabbed my watch off the table. “Worry less. Just keep an eye on the real estate end while I’m gone.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll babysit your overpriced properties. You go play doctor with your future wife.”
- Writer
