Free The Hundred Year Wait by Amelia Price Page B

obsessive of her to wait
for a reply like this but she couldn't help it. Now she had him
talking she didn't want him to stop. It took several minutes longer
for is response to come through and it made her sigh with
disappointment.
     
    It's late and you
agreed to obey me. Don't make me tell you again. Go to sleep.
You'll get your next lesson when I'm ready to teach it to you and
not before.
     
    She put the phone
on the bed side table, before picking it up again.
     
    As you command, I shall
obey.
     
    She hit send and
turned the light out with a grin on her face. A moment later the
phone chime made her sit up and grab it.
     
    As you should.
     
    Her finger hovered
over the reply button. He'd messaged her again when she'd expected
their conversation to be over and it puzzled her slightly. Either
he really was going all out on making it appear they were in a
relationship or he had enjoyed their conversation as well, but she
didn't know if it was wise to continue. He'd already warned her
once to go to sleep and not disobey him. If she replied again he
could see it as a deliberate act to break the rules and she knew
that might end badly.
    With reluctance
she put the phone back on the bedside cabinet and placed her head
on the pillow. Hopefully the following day would give her another
opportunity to see Myron and might result in a further challenging
message to translate.
    An hour later she
flicked the light back on. Tossing and turning in the dark was
making her frustrated. Too many thoughts, possibilities and
what-ifs ran through her head, and not just about Myron. There was
a group of terrorists trying to destroy some or all of London and
Myron and Sebastian were struggling to find out what their target
was to stop them.
    Somehow she'd
managed to get tied up in all this. Normally she was a story writer
who left the adventures to her characters but now she found herself
on adventures of her own. One learning from a genius who, according
to his younger brother, ran the entire government, and the second,
helping them both keep her country safe. The adrenaline that buzzed
through her was enough to keep any normal person awake, long after
they would normally be sleeping.
    All she could do
to try and quiet her mind was write for a little while. She hoped
Myron would understand she'd tried to sleep if he noticed her
tiredness the following day. She knew Sebastian would.
    She worked on her
previous novel for a few hours, taking a look at where she could
change it if she needed to. Myron's assistant had emailed her some
guidelines to work with for the re-writes late on Friday but this
was the first time she'd looked over them.
    By the time she'd
distracted herself she felt like she might be able to get some
sleep but her alarm was set for less than five hours later. When it
went off she felt like only seconds had passed.
    She hurried to
make herself presentable and wolf down some breakfast before
gathering all her belongings up and getting a taxi to Sebastian's.
Just in case she wasn't needed much longer she checked out of the
hotel. There was almost always space if she arrived before it got
too late and she didn't want to pay for another night if she didn't
need it.
    Mrs Wintern let
her in and smiled at her, patting her shoulder on the way past. The
elderly woman seemed to have a soft spot for Amelia and welcomed
her into the building with a warmer greeting than she probably
deserved. She wasn't there for Sebastian as Mrs Wintern wanted.
    Both Myron and
Sebastian were in the living room when she walked in. They turned
to her.
    “Have I missed
something?” she asked.
    “Nothing in
particular yet.” Myron glanced over her and frowned. “You look very
tired, Miss Jones. You can't have slept much.”
    “Not for lack of
trying. I spent plenty of time in bed, but my mind didn't want to
stop.” She hoped her explanation would satisfy him but couldn't be
sure it would. As she'd expected, he'd noticed her tiredness right
away.
    “My