He answers, "No. It's vacant."
Once inside, we find boxes and boxes of my clothes from Saks Fifth Avenue. "Oh, wow!" I state, "Those look like more than we bought!"
"I had them add comparable styles and colors."
I whisper, "Pickle." But then say, "Thank you, I think. Is there enough closet space in the bedroom, though?"
"There is in my dressing room." He lifts his nose to the air and sniffs, "Precious Kitty is going to be so happy to see us. Fish is her favorite." He pulls me past the boxes.
"Hmm, so you really never intended for me to only be your PA." I quickly count them as we pass and realize there are three times more.
"That's right," he grins. "Jillian will be here tomorrow. She will unpack them."
"Jillian?"
"My housekeeper."
We walk a little further in, and a splash of color catches my eye.
Draped over the dining room table are five evening dresses. "Ooo," I coo, "Bastian! Look!" I drag him over to the table. "Oh, my! They are gorgeous!"
He grins, "You like them?"
"Of course, I like them! They are beautiful! Thank you!"
"You can properly thank me later," he leans down for a kiss.
After I peck his lips, I tell him, "That reminds me. The Children's Charity Auction is tomorrow evening."
"You can model them for me in the morning, and I'll pick which one for you to wear. Now, go pour us a glass of Muscadet, please. I'll go get Precious Kitty."
We hold hands until we split our paths. I go over to the bar, and he goes to the sliding door that blocks access to the bedrooms. I turn the wine bottles until I find the right one. Instead of pouring two glasses, though, I pour him one, then open myself a beer. No self-respecting Southern girl drinks wine with oysters.
When he comes back in, Precious Kitty is following him, trotting along behind him. As soon as she sees me, she stops and prepares to bolt. I quickly squat down and speak to her in my sweetest, softest, cooing voice, "Hello, Precious Kitty. Did you have a good day today?"
She immediately abandons Bastian for me, and I scoop her up to cuddle and nuzzle her. She purrs her pleasure at being loved.
He tisks, "What the hell?"
I laugh as I tuck her under my arm, scratching her under her chin, and ask him, "Would you mind bringing our drinks to the kitchen?"
He shakes his head as we pass, and he calls her a "Traitor."
"She's not a traitor," I frown at him, teasing. "She simply knows who's the softy and will give her the most nibbles from the table."
He chuckles.
When we enter the kitchen, though, Precious Kitty abandons me for Dominic's prepared meal, already laid out on a mat for her. He stands steadfast in his attentive position, waiting to greet us by the table, but his eyes follow her. Clearly, he loves to spoil her.
"Samaera," he speaks to me first, then, "Sebastian."
Bastian says, "It smells good! My breakfast is long gone."
He pulls back a chair and offers it to me to sit. "I need to wash my hands first," I tell them, and I look at the kitchen sink but realize it's uncouth to clean them there, so I excuse myself to the restroom.
When I return, Dominic has lit candles for us and arranged covered dishes on the table, but he has left. Bastian stands next to my chair and holds my beer up. "I'm afraid you insulted Dominic with your beverage choice."
My hand flies to my mouth. "Oh, no! Did I really?"
