Christine was captivated by the entirety of the loft. Just as she ran her fingers over a small velvet covered box, she was startled by the voice of the man. Christine froze, fingers still on the box, eyes fixed on a candelabra across her. She’d only heard his voice, but the shock had not allowed her to process what the man had actually said to her.
“Do you show such interest in every bidder at the auction house?” the man repeated the question.
The sound of his deep voice came from behind her. Christine found she could not move to turn and face him, as if just hearing him speak had paralyzed her. Christine was mortified. She heard footsteps move slowly toward her and that made it difficult for her to breathe. It was as if something, maybe a foreboding feeling, were pressing down heavily on her chest. She felt the knot in her stomach, just as she had on the night of the auction, and her mouth went dry. Never had a man had such an effect on her. In fact, not a single person had ever made her so nervous.
“Not in every bidder,” Christine finally managed to say, “It is only when the purchases are-”
“Of such high value,” the man cut her off coldly.
He now stood in front of her and she could not avoid his gaze. Her legs felt like they’d turned to lead and the pressing feeling on her chest intensified. He was staring at her only this time his expression was much different than the one he’d demonstrated at the night of the auction.
“I- I- I mean, we, we just wanted to ensure proper transport and delivery of your painting,” she managed to get out.
She was trying her best to cover her embarrassment, but to no avail. The man continued to look at her coldly. He cleared his throat and took a step forward, closer to her. That seemed to flip a switch in Christine’s body because she jumped back in surprise. The man did not even blink, as if he had not noticed anything about her movement.
“Well, then, should you not be making yourself useful by helping the delivery man?” The mysterious man was closed off, irritable, and seemed to have absolutely no interest in quelling Christine’s embarrassment. “If you’re here for the delivery, should you not be there with the deliveryman to be sure he does not ruin the portrait I paid 7.3 million dollars for?”
Christine nodded and, with that, scrambled off to help the deliveryman whose name she had not even bothered to learn.
Chapter Five
The following day, Christine awoke in her apartment to a knock on the door. She looked at the clock on her nightstand through bleary eyes only to see it was not necessarily early in the morning, but certainly earlier than she’d intended to get out of bed. Christine groaned. She didn’t actually have to go to work for the day or even speak to her parents but whoever was at the door had already ruined her morning. Christine stretched and threw on a robe before walking to look through the peephole. She saw a deliveryman standing on the other side holding what looked like flowers. Christine yanked the door open.
“Good morning,” the young man said chirpily, “I have a delivery for a Miss Sunderby here.”
“That’s me,” Christine replied, furrowing her brows in confusion.
“Excellent! If you’d please sign for them,” the young man said brightly as he handed over a clipboard.
Christine signed it mindlessly, her eyes fixed on the bouquet of roses that now sat on the floor. The deliveryman stooped to pick them up, but Christine told him to leave it. He bowed his head and bounced off. She would have wondered where he got the energy to be so cheery for such a job, but she was too preoccupied with the unexpected delivery. It was a beautiful bouquet of 24 roses all in a gorgeous, crystal vase.
Christine crouched down and plucked the card out from between them. There was nothing written on the small envelope, so she pulled out the actual card. The handwriting was neat and somewhat ornate.
“12 roses in apology for my rudeness and an addition 12 for good measure… Or, rather, a hope you will join me for dinner tonight.”
Christine felt a lump form in her throat after she gulped. She took in a deep breath, and before even reading the initials signed at the back of the card, she somehow knew exactly who the roses were from. Christine stared at the card for a couple minutes before turning it over in the palm of her hand. Etched on the back were the initials ‘C.D.’ and nothing more. Somehow, that was the confirmation she needed. She didn’t know how she was so sure the roses were from the mysterious man, but somehow that was the case. Her heart began to race.
He wanted her to join him for dinner. Was this a date? Was he interested in her? Or was this something else entirely? Christine’s minds raced with possibilities. After setting the bouquet on the center of her kitchen island, she sat on one of the stools and continued to stare at the gorgeous arrangement. Yesterday, after seeing him at his loft, she’d felt so rebuffed. It wasn’t until much later that she’d been indignant but her intrigue had not subsided despite that. And now she had an invitation from him, perhaps even an invitation to sate her curiosity.
After a while, Christine stood up and made her way to the bedroom. She walked straight into her closet to look at her gowns. For some reason, it had never been a question in her mind as to whether or not she would actually accept the mysterious man’s invitation. It was a given. She knew exactly what dress he’d want her to wear tonight. It was as though someone was controlling her mind.
Christine pulled out a cap sleeved, crew neckline dress that was form fitting. The majority of it was black lace, but it had red lace embellishments throughout. She slipped it on with black pumps and admired her reflection. It tastefully showed off her svelte figure, from her large breasts to her plump bottom, her small waist to her curved out hips. She was slender and beautiful, and the dress looked marvelous on her fair skin. Somehow she just knew this would be the exact thing he’d pick for her to wear if he’d been standing beside her in the closet.
It was only then that she realized she had no clue where she was meeting the man. As if her mind had been read yet again, there was a knock at the door. The sudden noise made her jump but she quickly regained her composure. She pulled the door open to see a man in a driver’s uniform standing on her welcome mat.
“Good evening, Miss Sunderby,” the man spoke smoothly, “I will be your driver for the night. Are you ready to go?”
Christine nodded her head slowly. She grabbed her clutch and, after making sure everything she needed was inside, she followed the driver to the car. It was a town car even more luxurious than her own. She sat quietly in the back seat, and it wasn’t until then that a major realization hit her. How was it that the man knew her address? Immediately, a ball of nerves formed in her stomach. Christine started to think she’d made a mistake agreeing to this. None of it made any sense. But when the car came to a stop in front of a five-star restaurant, and the driver opened her door, Christine felt the irresistible pull again. She’d already gotten this far and she just couldn’t bear to turn away now.
“I hope you don’t have allergies,” the man said as soon as Christine was escorted to her seat across him, “And that you don’t mind that I’ve taken the liberty to order the best thing on the menu for you.”
Christine stared at him. She was unsure how to react or what to say. He spoke to her as if they were acquainted. He had the same demeanor as he’d had the night of the auction, a stark contrast to the coldness he’d displayed when she’d been in his loft. Maybe it had bothered him to see her roaming about and looking through his things. Or perhaps it had just been an off day. Either way, Christine was not used to being treated this way. He took control in a subtle way, and it threw her for a loop.
“If you do not like what I’ve ordered,” the man said after a prolonged period of silence, “You are free to order anything your heart desires. Please, do not worry or hold back. I want you to enjoy your meal this evening.”
“Oh,” Christine muttered before clearing her throat and saying, “Well, thank you.”
“You sound so unsure when you speak to me,” the man astutely o
bserved.
Christine met his gaze but quickly looked away, busying herself with the cloth napkin on the table. There was something unsettling about his eyes. The way he looked at her was intense. She felt as if there was nothing in the world she could hide from this man if he made direct eye contact.
“I was caught off guard. That’s all,” she tried to play it cool.
The man let out a breathy chuckle and asked, “What part caught you off guard, Miss Sunderby?”
Christine fiddled with the cloth napkin, which was now on her lap, and made it a point to look at his face but not make eye contact. It was just too much for her. She took a sip of water and then another, hoping it would help calm her down.
“Everything,” she admitted, “Your roses. The invitation. A car being sent for me and now an order waiting for me.”
“I see,” the man said, leaning forward, “I certainly hope you will find a way to enjoy the evening.”
Just then, a plate of lobster was set in front of her. It was massive and looked incredibly delicious. Christine’s mouth instantly watered. She glanced at the man, who looked happy with her reaction.
“Where is your food?”
“I am not hungry.”
“Then why are we at dinner?”
The man smiled and responded, “I prefer not to eat at dinner. What I enjoy, Miss Sunderby, is watching a beautiful woman eat. It is particularly satisfying when she truly enjoys the meal.”
Christine leaned back in her chair, instinctively putting more space between the two of them. Alarm bells went off in Christine’s mind. He was mystifying, to say the least. But what he’d just told her was incredibly strange, and she began to wonder if she’d walked straight into the trap of an extreme fetishist or worse, a serial killer. The latter was extreme but, then again, nothing about this man had ever been commonplace. Christine looked back down at the massive lobster and her craving took over. She couldn’t help it. She dug in, enjoying every savory bite. There were moments she noticed him watching her intently, but the lobster was delectable she could not help but devour it. By the end of the meal, she finally looked up to meet his gaze. Neither of them had spoken the entire time, but the man seemed like he’d thoroughly enjoyed watching her eat. Christine felt slightly unnerved, but it was no match to her growing fascination with the man sitting across from her.
“Do you care for dessert, Miss Sunderby?”
“No, thank you. I’m quite full,” she told him.
“And satisfied?”
“And satisfied,” she assured.
The man smiled. The look of gratification on his face was peculiar, at least because the reason behind it was unusual. Despite this, Christine did not refuse his offer to accompany her back to her place. He wanted to drop her off, and she felt a strong desire to let him. As the two of them walked out, Christine could not believe this was the same man she’d once thought was beneath her. Now, she was not only immensely drawn to him, she felt like she was downright under some kind of spell. He was incredibly handsome and had a unique quality that was compelling.
He opened the door for her, instead of having the chauffeur do it, before sliding into the seat beside her. Christine’s heart pounded in her chest; this was the closest they’d been to each other since meeting. She wanted to speak to him and ask the numerous questions that had crossed her mind since the auction, but it was as if she’d lost her voice. Instead, she settled for looking out the window. The entire ride to her apartment, she could feel the man’s gaze on her. By the time they reached her building, she could see the admiration in his eyes. Her heart began to race at the thought that he could possibly find her as attractive as she found him.
“May I walk you to your door, Miss Sunderby?”
“You may,” she responded in a breathy whisper.
He was so proper, and she found it to be quite charming. The moment he placed his hand ever so gently on the back of her arm, Christine’s heart leaped into her throat. She began to breathe a bit faster and hoped he would not catch it. Once they stood in front of her door, Christine realized it was time for her to make a decision– would she invite the man inside or simply say goodnight? She did not even know his name.
“My gosh, how could I have spent an entire evening with him and not even know his name?”
The man looked deep into her eyes and she felt her knees go weak. Her thumping heart made the pulse thunder in her ears. She’d never wanted to feel someone’s lips against hers as much as she did at that moment. He reached out and ran his hand through her curls before placing his hand on the back of her head. Christine held her breath. She could sense what was about to happen and it felt like her head might explode with anticipation. She had no idea what it was about this man that drove her mad to this extent. It was new and exciting but a little alarming all the same. The man stepped forward and pulled her head closer to his. His lips brushed against hers, and she breathed out, feeling like she could melt right into the soft kiss. He leaned into the kiss, and she shut her eyes, enjoying the moment to its fullest extent. She thought it would be a simple, goodbye kiss but he deepened it. She felt his tongue glide over her lower lip. Christine readily opened her mouth. But when she slipped her tongue into his mouth, she let out a little gasp. The man stepped back at once.
“Your teeth,” Christine said in surprise, “They’re so large. They’re so… You could be a vampire.”
“I must leave now,” the man said, turning swiftly and storming off before Christine had a chance to say anything else.
After he left, Christine was left with more questions than answers. It had clearly been a joke, but her statement seemed to have upset him. Why else would he have left so abruptly? Christine felt more confused than ever. How was it that she was so attracted to someone she knew virtually nothing about? A man who was not her usual type? Who was he anyway and how did he seem to know everything she liked without her speaking a word?
Chapter Six
Days passed before Christine heard anything from or about the man again. She spent every evening going over their kiss and his sudden departure. No matter how much she analyzed the moment, it didn’t make any more sense than it had the night it actually happened. Just when she was starting to lose hope of ever hearing from him again, and in the process becoming cross at his audacity to reject Christine Sunderby, she opened her front door only to find she’d received another bouquet of roses.
She quickly bent down to pluck the card from the center to read an invitation to the loft where the painting had been delivered. Christine’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the wind knocked out of her and it seemed like the world around her had fallen silent. She ran her hand over the card, which had an interesting texture, and recalled the way he’d behaved last time she was there. Surely, he would be a lot more welcoming this time seeing as how she’d be his guest of his own choosing. She knew it was insane to accept the proposal. It was dangerous and foolish to go to his loft, unaccompanied when she still did not even know his name. Christine, however, could not resist.
As she walked to her closet, it didn’t occur to Christine that she had no way of contacting the mysterious man had she chosen to decline his invitation. Her mind was too filled with possibilities of how the night would end as she ran her hands over the various fabrics hanging in her closet. Just as it had happened the first night she was to meet with the mysterious man, Christine knew exactly what dress to wear. This time, however, it was more risqué. The dual, deep V-neckline showed off her cleavage and the bare expanse of her back in the most alluring fashion. The black and dark red design contrasted with her fair skin, the lace peeking out of the hemline at her mid-thigh.
Christine slipped on a pair of black stilettos she seldom wore but she felt like this was the sort of night to break them out for. She didn’t just look incredibly sexy, she felt it too. She tied her hair back with a black ribbon and stared at her reflection for a long time in silence. Thoughts like questioning her decision making popped into her h
ead but were quickly chased away upon recalling the way he’d kissed her at the end of the night. “The kiss,” she thought, running her fingers over her plump lips. He’d initiated it but then run off right after.
It dawned on Christine, as she later rode in the car the man had sent for her, that he was incredibly confusing. He was more than just the most intriguing mystery she’d ever encountered. The man was cold one second but apologetic and romantic the next. He was bold and fleeting. For the life of her, Christine could not figure him out any more than she could come to understand what in the world compelled her to continue pursuing him. She was completely mystified.
Christine went up to the loft, stepping off the elevator into the entrance hall but found nobody waiting for her. She was unsure what to do. She’d already felt daring in her decision to head up without waiting for him in the lobby but could she go so far as to wander around again? He’d had such an adverse reaction to it last time, but now, now she was his guest. She took a step forward. “After all,” she thought, “He invited me to explore.”
As Christine slowly walked around the perimeter of the living area, admiring the distinctly medieval décor, her intrigue grew. She could feel her heart beating faster than normal. She became acutely aware of the clicking sound her heels made on the stonework of the floor. Christine stopped for a moment and turned from side to side, wondering if the mysterious man would make his appearance anytime soon. There was no sign of him, but something caught her eye. It was the same velvet box she’d been drawn to her during her previous visit. Against her better judgment, Christine drifted over to it and gingerly picked it up from the table upon which it rested. She held it up and observed it carefully just before the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears.
The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance Page 41