11
Regina
My four-hour shopping trip had gone well. The idea of having someone with me at all times had bothered me at first, but Marcus knew how to keep an eye on me while somehow giving me a certain depth of freedom I didn’t expect. For the most part, I didn’t see him but was aware that he watched from someplace.
Ansel had texted me on my new phone to let me know to be ready by the time he arrived at seven.
A call from D had been the highlight of my day. He’d gathered the information needed to start the process of getting me an official name change. The excitement of dropping Dominquez gave me a level of joy I hadn’t felt in a while.
Marcus and I shared small talk on the ride back. He, like Ansel, had a strong, dominating personality that he kept in check, for my sake, I was sure. He accompanied me up to the penthouse, carrying my bags.
Although posing as a gentleman, Marcus never stopped working his protection angle. I glimpsed the big silver gun tucked into his side and noticed the constant scans of our surroundings before every move we made.
Once I was safe and back in the apartment, and after he’d scanned it, Marcus bid me a good evening and back into the elevator he went.
The new Kindle I’d picked up kept me company. I flipped it open to one of the many medical books I’d downloaded. I’d also downloaded all of Megan’s books that I was anxious to start reading until it was time to prepare for my date.
Was it a date?
Ansel and I weren’t a couple, that much I was sure of. I shrugged off the ideas of us when they caused my mind to hurt. My eyes fell closed, thinking of the good times before I’d been force to hide from my family.
My body jerked at the sensation of turning into a fall. Ansel’s strong hand shook me awake. I berated myself for not setting an alarm, realizing I’d fallen asleep.
“I’m sorry. Are we going to be late?”
“No, it’s only five,” he stated. His gaze roamed although I was clothed, specifically in my jeans.
I sat up and my gaze caught a white garment bag slung across Ansel’s shoulder. It must have been the clothes he planned to wear on our outing.
“Where are we going?” I inquired, curiosity flooding me.
“You’ll find out when we get there,” he stated with a hint of finality.
“Okay,” I voiced with an eye-roll I’d failed to hide. I was sure he noticed the hint of underlying irritation I held at his answer.
He placed the bag across the back of the couch and headed toward the kitchen. I followed.
As we sat and ate, I was too busy staring at Ansel and talking my head off to cut through the tension he’d built in me. As usual, he let me talk as he studied me. A smile or a nod kept him in the conversation, but the mischief in his gaze hinted that my run-on sentences weren’t the only things his attention was on.
* * *
I paced,taking anxious steps. I didn’t know what to expect. Had I picked the right outfit? Had I applied too much makeup?
I may not have known a lot about the life I was embarking on, but if there was one thing I’d learned in my boarding school upbringing, it was the ins and out of makeup and how to fake my way through a difficult situation. Thanks to my father spoiling me, I also knew how to run up a credit card.
Ansel stood facing the view when I entered the living room. My hair was in curls that fell over my shoulders. I’d gone so long with a ponytail that it felt foreign. My hand rushed down the sides of my pale blue Michael Kors studded sheath dress with a daring slit up the thigh. I thought it was sexy, but who knew what Ansel would think of it?
I’d yet to master the art of balancing myself in skinny, steep heels, so I’d opted for a sexy pair of beige strappy sandals with a three-inch thicker heel to be able to walk and balance myself at the same time.
When Ansel turned at my entrance, he presented a ready smile.
“You did good, Doc. Your makeup is flawless, your hair, stunning, and your dress is sexy, just what I asked for.”
His smile widened, showing rows of perfect teeth as his pleased gaze met mine. Why did I get the sense that I’d missed the mark?
“Thank you…?” I stated, making it sound like a question. My hand swept the sides of my dress once more.
“You look very handsome,” I complimented although my mind raced onward with a more detailed description.