It was my dream room. A huge, four-poster vintage bed sat in the middle of the room with a white frame and delicate designs spinning around the legs. I ran my hand along the carved wood. Two white side tables sat on either side with glass lamps sitting on top. I spied an old dressing table in the corner with an array of perfume bottles and antique hairbrushes artfully displayed on it. I walked over and sat on the stool, running my fingers over the brushes and smiled at the family photo sitting in a silver frame beside them. It was one of my favorites. Taken just before I left for New York and when Ian had been home. We were in the garden of our childhood home, Mum and Dad had their arms around each other, Mum pressing a kiss to Dad’s forehead. My parents were night and day. Mum had golden blonde hair, styled soft around her face, she had always been beautiful, even in her fifties she was stunning. She is trim and very petite, my father looked like a mountain man compared to her. His dark scruffy hair was peppered with silver, smile lines at the corner of his face only made him more handsome, in a rugged type of way. He is tall, and even though he’s approaching sixty he’s in good shape. A twenty year old me was tucked into my father’s side, laughing at something, my head thrown back, my long brown hair flying behind me. Ian was beside my mother, his arm around her waist, grinning over at me. Him, with his military buzz cut and strong jaw was an imprint of my father, the same hazel eyes, dark hair and cheeky smile. Our family had always been close, I knew how lucky I was to come from such a great home.
I moved my gaze to observe my reflection in the lovingly restored mirror. My chocolate brown hair was piled on top of my head, wisps hanging down here and there. My hand touched the spot on my cheek where a small scar hid underneath my makeup. I decided I looked like the old me, with slightly tanned skin and a heart shaped face. I think my eyes are my best feature, jade green and maybe a smidge too big for my face, making me look too innocent for my liking, although it did help when I was younger. I’m only 5’5 and naturally petite, which is why I’m always wearing six inch heels. My body is lean, but with a larger ass than I would like and smaller breasts than I want. I work freaking hard to keep my figure trim, and if I even look at a cupcake I swear my ass grows. I snapped myself out of my self-perusal when I realized I hadn’t even explored the most important part. The closet.
I clapped my hands with glee as I opened double doors into an amazing walk in wardrobe with white carpet and an amazing purple rug running to the end of the room. A chaise lounge sat in the middle of the room, and there were even glass cases for my handbags!
My bathroom was just as impressive. White tiles that ran along the floor and halfway up the walls met with soft blue paint. A chandelier (yes, a chandelier) dangled atop the claw-foot tub, which was in the middle of the room, a white footstool beside it. I had two huge sinks and mirrors with cabinets underneath them, more than able to house all of my beauty products. To the left of the sinks was a shower big enough to sleep in. I retrieved my phone out of my bag and dialed.
“Amy, you have outdone yourself. I’m speechless, the house is everything I could have wanted and more, you’re a genius!” I said as soon as she picked up.
“I know, I know, my taste is impeccable. I knew you’d like it,” she stated modestly.
“Like is an understatement. You seriously need to undertake a career in interior design. Or mind reading, considering this is exactly what I wanted.”
“I can’t exactly pursue a career in the physic realm, considering I am opening a business on the edge of nowhere with my best friend,” she told me dryly.
I laughed. “Okay, well I need to unpack, just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate this. Can’t wait till you get here, love you.”
“You’re welcome girl, see you tomorrow!” she chirped, ringing off.
I made my way back to my car on cloud nine and started the Herculean task of unpacking. My Mercedes was full to the brim, even with a lot of my stuff being sent ahead. What could I say? I’m a girl and a buyer. I have a lot of shit. I opened my trunk, inspecting the sheer volume of bags for a second before trying to gather as many as I could into my arms.
“Need some help?” a deep voice asked from behind me.
“Holy fuck!” I dropped all of my bags, nearly jumping out of my Manolos. I began to glare at the owner of the deep voice that had scared the bejesus out of me but stopped short. In front of me was a picture of pure male perfection. Well, maybe not so pure.
Tall, like really tall, I only came up to his shoulders and I was in six inch heels. Rippling muscles threatened to tear the sleeves of his t-shirt and tattoos covered every inch of his impressive arms. His face was chiseled like a Greek god’s, with a square jaw and cheekbones to die for. Midnight black hair brushed his sharp jaw, he looked like Chris Hemsworth’s identical twin – well, his dangerous black haired identical twin. A familiar intensity wafted off him, an air of menace in the way he held himself. Uh oh, this one was trouble, like serious trouble, the kind I swore off a year ago.
The hunk brought his hands up like I was pointing a gun at him, a grin highlighting his too kissable mouth, very kissable in fact. How could a guy who looked like he could bench press a car while making Vin Diesel cry have lips like that? I bet he could do some things with those lips, wait…shut up ovaries!