Elizabeth - Page 49

Which meant I needed to apologize.

“Kitchen. What room?”

“The penthouse suite,” I said.

“Bill to the room?”

“Yes. And pay attention, because it’s a big order. I would like a basket of semmeln, honey butter, a carafe of your finest coffee, cream and sugar, smoked bacon, ham, a fresh fruit bowl, sliced boiled eggs, sliced cheeses, a regular cream cheese spread, and a couple of waffles in case my counterpart doesn’t enjoy a true Austrian breakfast.”

“Anything else?”

“Freshly squeezed orange juice and a bottle of champagne.”

“Give us forty minutes and it’ll be up there, sir.”

“Thank you very much.”

I set down the phone and listened out to see if Elizabeth was awake. But I couldn’t hear any sounds. So, I headed to the bathroom to clean up. I shaved, showered, and got myself into some comfortable clothing. This was the only day on our trip where I had nothing planned, so a suit wasn’t necessary. A white T-shirt and a pair of jeans was all that was required for me on days like those, and when a knock came at the door, I grinned.

Breakfast was ready.

I tipped the man well before wheeling the cart over to the beautiful view. I pulled up a couple of chairs before I slid my fingers through my hair again, trying to dry it out as much as I could. I fixed us both a cup of coffee before I padded down the hallway, and once I reached her door, I knocked softly on it.

“Elizabeth? I’ve got breakfast.”

I heard her groan behind the door, and it forced a grin upon my cheeks. She hadn’t even been awake yet. I looked at the watch on my wrist and saw it was almost ten o’clock in the morning. A late sleeper, then. Unless she’d been up like I had been. The thought punched me in the gut. I had no reason to react the way I did. We were two professionals in our respective careers trying to make the best of this week.

I couldn’t fault her for that.

She opened the door wrapped up in that skimpy robe the hotel provided, and her hair was mussed with sleep, tousled in a way that hardened my cock. I drew in a deep breath as she leaned against the doorway, running her hand through her own hair to push it from her face.

“I was an asshole last night,” I said.

“You were.”

“I’m sorry. I had no reason to say what I did. Even if you were working, that’s none of my business. I’ve got eleven other side companies that branch off from my main one. There’s no reason why you can’t advertise your own services like I was with mine.”

“That wasn’t what was happening, but I appreciate the apology.”

“I make you a promise that from now on I’ll keep things strictly business,” I said.

“That’s probably for the best,” she said.

My eyes connected with hers, and I watched something flash behind them. And the saddened lilt of her tone only fueled the question running around in my head. Had I seen disappointment on her features? Did she not want to keep things professional for whatever reason? A sliver of my soul was excited at that prospect—at the idea of her being mine. Of me taking her over and over again until she knew nothing but my name on her lips. But the rest of me knew I had imagined it. There was no way we could cross that sort of line. She was a professional at creating the types of atmospheres we had been in, like the tag game in the garden and the dinner she picked out for us to have.

Right?

“Strictly professional. Got it,” Elizabeth said.

“I ordered breakfast. A very big spread. Whenever you want to come out and eat, it’s yours for the taking.”

“I’m going to clean up a bit, then I’ll be out. Is there anything in particular we’re doing today?”

“No. Today’s a free day. And I want you to feel comfortable going and exploring the city without me. If there’s anything that pops up on my schedule, it won’t require you. I can tell them you’re out shopping with my credit card like most good fiancées do.”

She giggled, and the sound coated my body in want for her.

“That sounds good. I’ve been itching to explore the city. Thank you for allowing it.”

I cringed at the way that sounded. Allowing it? I didn’t like the way she said that.

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