Page 223 of Trouble from Abroad
After Zaha leaves, I spread the design printouts across the kitchen island. Mia bounces over, eyes lit up, hands clasped in front of her. “Okay, fine. I love it too.”
She sounds helium-high, joy straining her vocal cords. I chuckle at her excitement and press a hand at the small of her back, reeling her in. My pinky itches, aching to trace lower, just as a contractor passes us by with an, “Afternoon, sir,” reminding me we’re not alone.
Mia’s got the energy of the Energizer Bunny—she’srelentless, ridiculous, and somehow exactly what I need. I don’t say it out loud. She’d either not get the reference, and I’d go ten shades grayer, or she could mistake it for a joke. It isn’t. It’s a whole-hearted compliment.
Her spark is contagious. And it’s been a long time since anything caught.
We sit side by side on the kitchen stools, studying the 3D renderings of what my room will look like.
“Can you believe she can make all this happen in just a couple of days?” Mia mimes a head explosion and pulls another grin out of me.
“It’s just a fresh coat of paint and new furniture.” My pragmatism flares up.
“Still.” She flips to another page. “Are you sure you don’t want to change anything? You should have it your way. You’re the one paying for it.”
Oh, I know.My nanny is very high maintenance. I think she’s inherited bad habits, working for a billionaire. Everyone she’s hired has been both incredible and horrifically overpriced.
“I really liked this color.” I point to the dark forest green. “The wallpaper too, with those palm trees. And this bed.” The canopy one. I can already picture her tied up there. Splayed out. Begging.
“What else?” Her tone’s so invested I try to think of something else, something I can say out loud, but I’ve got nothing.
“I don’t know about the details. I just liked it.”
“Look closer. It’s your bedroom, Preston. This is supposed to be your new sanctuary.”
Mia rises and stands behind me. I feel her before I hearher—heat humming against my back. “Can you lower the stool so I can touch you? Let’s see if I’ve learned anything.”
I do, and her breath ghosts across my ear. I wonder if she can spot the goosebumps crawling up my arms.
Her hands land on my shoulders, firm from the start. What starts as a grunt finishes as a moan. She’s getting too good at this. I need to hold her to the full body massage I saw on her spreadsheet.
“I’m sorry. Your shirt is—Would you?—”
Gone. Out of the way. Can’t keep my cool when the question removes layers between us.
“Wow. The one-hand pull. Nice move.”
I chuckle and glance back at her.
“Eyes on the pics, Doctor. Let’s get you relaxed and make sure nothing’s missing.”
I hear Mia going through the cupboard and popping a lid open. I’m curious, but also too blissed out to care. Surprises from Mia tend to come wrapped in chaos and delight.
She returns, her hands slick and warm, the scent of coconut washing over me.
“Mia Thorne, are you using cooking oil on me?” I’m joking. She could be using sewage, and I’d be complimenting the lovely scent she picked for the occasion.
“Virgin coconut oil from an unopened jar.” She laughs. “Didn’t want to break the moment by going upstairs for our oil. Now hush. Look at the picture.”
Our oil, huh?
Her hands glide over my back. I exhale hard.
“Tell me what made you choose that one.”
“The atmosphere. I saw myself smiling when I walked into that room.”
“That’s a perfect start. And honestly surprising. Care to explain why?”
