careful. It’d be presumptuous and stupid of me to think that just because I’m a Mistress, a man wouldn’t try to get one over on me. Some men would love the idea of breaking a woman like me.”
He tightened his grip on her hand, instinctively leaning closer, as if offering his strength and protection. Something warm and sweet began to melt in the pit of her stomach like a rich, decadent chocolate. “Does he approve of me?”
“I do.” Dmitri smiled as he set the basket of bread still warm from the oven before them. “Enjoy.”
“Sorry.” She laughed softly at the disgruntled look on Donovan’s face. “He’s very good at what he does, so he tends to pop up when you least expect him. I swear he’s telepathic. If I even think about wanting…”
Dmitri set a small saucer of softened butter at her right hand. “Just like you like it, Miss Harrison.” And then he was gone back into the kitchen.
She gently removed her hand from Donovan’s because there was no way in hell she was going to sit here with fresh hot bread and butter without eating some. “See?” He watched her slather butter—a lot of butter—on her roll, a bemused smile on his face. “I should probably warn you that I like to eat. I mean, I really like to eat. I’m not going to sit here and pretend to eat like a bird just because I’m on a date.”
“I wondered why he brought so much butter.”
Settling back in her chair, she took a bite, savoring the rich yeasty roll. “Like I said, he knows what I like. Dmitri makes his own bread every single day and he only keeps real butter. FYI, the whipped cream on his desserts is also real. It never comes out of a can and it’s certainly not hydrogenated oil. I don’t come here to diet. I come here to eat.”
Donovan buttered his own roll but didn’t devour it like she did hers. “If he knows what you like…”
She nodded. “He knows what I am.” Waiting to see his reaction, she took another mouthful of roll.
Donovan set the roll down on his bread plate and picked up his wine glass. He didn’t drink immediately. His fingers started to turn white on the stem.
He doesn’t want people to know about him. About us. Not that way.
She couldn’t really blame him. In his world, he was a rich, powerful CEO of a billion-dollar company. The kind of man who barked out his orders and people jumped to obey his every whim. Not the kind of man who would go to his knees in his Mistress’s presence. Certainly not the kind of man who’d beg for Her whip and then thank Her for it.
Torn between comforting him and helping him face what he was, she waited to see what he’d say. If he’d ask her to keep their relationship secret. Maybe that’s why he wanted a prostitute. He thought he could buy my secrecy along with my body.
“Does he think I’m a client?”
“No. I made it clear that I work for you. I told him about the stained glass commission. As far as he’s concerned, we’re just on a date.”
He nodded but didn’t completely relax. Not like before. Because if the Mistress was on a date, then it would still imply he was a submissive.
“Are we on a date, Donovan?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to take me home with you after dinner?”
His head whipped up and he pinned her with the intensity of his desire. “Absolutely.”
“Then stop worrying about it. Besides, if you’d wanted to be inconspicuous, you shouldn’t have arrived in a boat of a limousine.”
His mouth quirked and he finally took a drink from his glass. “Very true. I only thought to impress you. I didn’t realize what a stir it would cause.”
“I can’t date you if you’re not going to be completely honest with me and I couldn’t care less about being impressed. I want you. Not Mr. Moneybags with the big shiny car.”
He grimaced at the nickname but didn’t withdraw again. “I’m not too keen about people knowing the truth. About me.”
“I have no intention of buying an advertisement in the Star