“I bought the plot a few years ago and had my dream house sketched out by an architect. It took a fair while to have it built, but it was worth it.”
The place seems even more impressive now that I know he designed it.
“House meet Cass, Cass meet house,” he jokes as he opens the front door and keys in the alarm code.
It’s as I expected inside, modern and sleek, with light walls and a rich wooden floor right the way through. It’s largely open plan and that makes it seem even more grand. The whole lower floor stretches far and wide.
He puts my case down by the stairs and I follow him through to the kitchen. It’s granite and oak, with a huge island and breakfast bar, complete with leather and chrome stools that give the perfect contrast.
“Are you a coffee girl? Fancy one?”
I nod, taking a seat.
“Sure am. And yes, please.”
He grinds up the beans and makes me a latte, ten times better than the budget stuff I usually drink. The froth of the milk is perfect. He doesn’t have one along with me though, just grabs himself a mineral water.
“How much time do you spend in Berlin?” I ask, despite the fact I’ve likely asked him before when I’ve been too drunk to remember.
“Most of my time is spent over there. I’m mainly here on the occasional weekend, but I can be here a whole lot more.”
I hope so.
“How come you ended up in Malvern? You said you were from London, right?”
He takes a sip of his drink before he answers.
“I moved here when I was twelve to live with my grandad. He’s gone now, though. He died a long time ago.”
There’s a spike in the way he says it. Like a dark memory standing tall. I don’t push it, and wouldn’t have the chance to if I tried. He paces straight across the room to point out the view from the huge windows.
“You can see Hanley Hall from here,” he tells me as I join him.
I spot it in the distance, remembering how he first sat down next to me at the bar. I still get tingles at the thought.
I point towards Malvern town. “I think my apartment is over there, by the playing field.”
“Yeah, it is.”
I giggle. “Been spying on me through binoculars?”
His smirk is glorious again. “Would you like that? To know I’ve always got you in sight? Some women like their men a little possessive. Is that the kind of woman you are?”
I’m already obsessed by his tone. That glint in his eyes.
“I think I’d always like that. Being watched by you.”
“I’d better get some binoculars ordered,” he laughs. “Watching you up close will be a lot better than scoping you out at long distance, though. I know which I’ll be preferring.”
I wander around his kitchen diner, admiring the huge abstract paintings on the walls. They are grand and artistic, giving a lovely amount of soul to the grandeur. It’s a palace fit for a prince.
My prince.
His hands are in his pockets as he watches me, casual but focused. I truly feel like a princess.
The memory of last night slams hard, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.
“Have you done that before with a woman? The stuff on the video?” I ask him.
“Watched a woman acting like a slut while she takes as many cocks as I ask her to? Yes, I’ve done that before, mainly with a girl I was dating a few years ago.” His gaze holds mine so firmly.
I feel suddenly shy. “Did she like it?”
“If she didn’t, she was lying to me. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”
“No. I’ll be telling you the truth, don’t worry.”
“Good.” He smirks. “Because I’d love doing it with you a lot more than I enjoyed doing it with her, I already know that.”
I feel so proud, it’s stupid. I grin like he’s just told me I’m Venus personified.
He changes the subject as he takes another sip of his water at the bar.
“You said you enjoy watching movies. Fancy a day of it? Movies and chatting? I don’t relax much, but I think that will be different when I’m with you.”
“Movies and chatting sounds amazing,” I agree.
I flick through potential options on my phone while he makes us brunch, but my attention isn’t on the movie list, it’s on the way he asks me questions. I tell him about growing up in Berkshire and how excited I was to become a wedding planner. He asks about my favourite romance stories, right back from when I was very young, and I get to share how brilliant my parents were at encouraging my dreams. He doesn’t speak much at that part, and I get that spike from him again. Unspoken.
I opt to ask the question.
“How come you ended up living with your grandad?”