Page 19 of The Heir
I want her back talking me, so I can tie her down and make her take it like the good girl I know she can be.
Even if every interaction we have is led with a bratty attitude, there's a good girl under there I know I can find if I dig deep enough. And oh trust me, I can dig realdeep, if you catch my drift.
I heard her scream once. She was at the movie theater with her friends Brittany and Tiffany, and they were watching a horror movie about a woman who gets abducted. Ironic and poetic I would even say, and when the girl got snatched Isobel screamed so loud that I jerked off to that sound for three months straight. But now it's time for a new sound.
I'm ready.
I've had my staff diligently prepare a place for her in my home, but ultimately she's going to end up in my bedroom. At first though, Iwant her to feel comfortable around things she likes. So the more I followed her, the more I acquired. Every trinket she picked up, every knick knack she touched and wouldn't let herself buy, I bought for her.
I got a front row seat to all four times in nine months her boyfriend took her on a date. Every disappointed expression she had on her face when he would look at his phone more than her, or only half listen to her when she tried to tell him something. I saw every time she placed her hand on his and he pulled away.
She wants that man for a reason I can't fathom.
Is it love?
It has to be because there's no way she's missing these signs.
The worst is how every time they go to eat he without fails orders a pasta dishknowingshe's got some weird aversion to noodles. It's the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen because it's not a carb aversion. I've seen her eat mashed potatoes, bread, and rice.
Tsking my tongue, I pull out my electric eraser and redo a line because I fucked it up thinking about the way she licked her spoon clean of her mashed potatoes and gravy dinner one night. God it was erotic.
She's a beautiful soul too, underneath that hard exterior.
She's given money to homeless individuals, even food. One night when it was raining she was walking past a older man who had a dog on his lap huddling under an umbrella, and she got down there with him and talked for a while. When she walked away, she sat in her car and cried for so long I almost broke and knocked on her door.
Was she homeless before? Is this why she's so fucking shrewd in business? I mean the woman takes absolutely no shit, which is admirable and all… but what happens to a person, a woman, to make them be that way?
The tinkle of my alarm goes off, signaling that I need to break for lunch and rest my eyes.
You can't work for hours straight on something that requires you to be mathematically correct. One wrong measurement and it can be mass casualty in a heartbeat. I make the short journey to my desk to grab my wallet and head out the door, knowing just where she is at twelve o'clock. Just like I know Anna is being snuck into Isobel's house for an hour right this very minute.
So sincehe'snot alone,shewon't be alone either.
AndIdon't want to have lunch alone. I know I'm going to see her for the tasting at Fabian's later, but I can't help myself. I want to spend more time with her than just an hour or two at a tasting, or one time a month. I need more of her. As feisty and mouthy as she is, I enjoy her company.
I have my driver drop me off at the little sub and soup shop about fifteen minutes away from my building where she normally takes her lunch.
Settling in about five minutes before she walks in, I pick a booth that gives me a direct angle to the door so I can see when she enters the shop. I hold a paper in front of my face, protecting me from her gaze should she look over in my direction.
I don't have to wait long. Isobel walks in a couple minutes ahead of schedule. Prompt as usual. She's in a gorgeous purple dress with tiny spaghetti straps and strappy sandals, showing me white manicured toes. My dick stirs at the sight of her moisturized gleaming skin. She stands at the register, ordering a lobster chowder with no bread.
She'll eat rice till the cows come home but not huge on bread and noodles.
I take a sip of my coffee and tilt my head, watching as she texts on her phone for a minute, completely oblivious to her surroundings asusual as she stands off to the side and waits patiently. When her food is up, she grabs it and then turns and walks to a nearby booth.
But that's it.
She just stands at the edge of the booth, rocking onto her tip toes, stuck because she's got too much going on.
Her phone and sunglasses are clutched precociously in one hand, her bag hanging from her forearm, weighing her down on one side with the tray balanced between the two hands. It's a disaster waiting to happen. The booth is higher due to it being on a raised platform, and because she's a short little thing, she tries raising even further on her tip toes to get the tray to clear the table, but the bowl suddenly slides throwing her off balance.
"No! No! No! No!"she gasps, trying to right it but she panics and throws her head down, having to stop it with her chin.
Ruse over, I chuckle, getting up and walking over to her hunched position.
"Here, let me help you with that," I say, leaning forward to grasp her chowder with one hand, and her tray with the other. She hasn't noticed it's me yet.
"Oh thank you so much,I was about to create a mess!" she says, giggling as she looks up and then sees me. Her eyes widen and her chest shudders on a hard inhalation of air as they meet mine."King!"she whispers in a strangled voice.
