Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 39930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
“I think maybe we should go so we’re not late. Mr. Moore, this is a pretty important party for you to attend.” Her hands shook, and she offered a smile that wavered. Turning on her heels, she made a hasty escape to the front door. Blythe leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
The deep breath she took in didn’t really help. What she needed was a nice glass of alcohol to help ease the chaotic emotions inside of her. Everything was crazy, and she didn’t know why. Keep it together, girl.
That was something easier said than done.
Chapter Twelve
The cocktail party certainly wasn’t the intimate gathering she had expected, but then again, she was happy for the thick throng of people. It made her feel less noticeable and helped keep her mind off of other things.
Things like the two men who were now constantly taking up her thoughts.
The host and owner of the ridiculously elaborate mansion she was currently exploring was none other than Frederique Olivero Santos. Frederique owned several well-known wineries up north.
Blythe thought the drive to the party would help cool her down, but in reality, it made everything worse. Being confined in the limo with Dietrich and Stellan had been torture. She had sat on one side while they sat on the other, side-by-side. Both men watched her intently, but it became stifling in the small confines when Stellan started murmuring to Dietrich in Portuguese yet again.
Neither man took their gazes off her as they had this seemingly intimate conversation in another language right in front of her. She may have felt anger at the rudeness of that if not for the fact she was so wet and turned on beyond anything conceivably coherent. She had no idea what they said, but she knew they were talking about her.
She had been able to pick up a few words, ones that seemed familiar to her from her days in high school when she took Brazilian Portuguese.
Her limited and brief encounter with Portuguese had been one of the reasons they offered her this position in the first place. Apparently, the fact she hadn’t spoken the language in far too many years wasn’t a concern.
Now, here she was, wandering aimlessly around this huge house trying to stay away from Stellan and Dietrich because she was starting not to trust herself around them. Her body now had a mind of its own, and her arousal was a constant, living entity trying to claim her.
She took another sip from her wine glass and turned down the fifth hallway. Her heels made a clicking noise against the hard, smooth ground. But the sound was drowned out by the music that seemed to be filtered out from speakers throughout the entire mansion.
At the end of the hall, a door was open with soft lighting spilling into the hallway. She stepped into the room and realized the light came from outside. She was so turned around that she didn’t know if she was in the front or back of the house.
Stepping farther into the room, she noticed the double doors directly in front of her were open and led out to a veranda. The view was spectacular, and she knew enough about her surroundings that what she was looking at was the center of town in Sintra, with the palace visible.
It was all lit up like a glorious and scenic postcard. The Sintra Mountains sat in the backdrop and added a hint of romanticism. She finished off her glass of Riesling and set it aside. For several long moments, she did nothing but stare at the town below that seemed so tiny from her vantage point.
She didn’t know how long she stood there, just absorbing the view and the soft breeze that brushed over her, but for the first time since coming to Portugal, she felt at ease. Her arousal was still a slow burn inside of her, and drinking the wine hadn’t really helped matters.
Blythe had hoped the glass of alcohol would calm her nerves, and it had, to a point, but it also seemed to keep the burn going inside of her.
She was so lost in the surroundings and her thoughts that she didn’t realize someone had come up behind her until she felt a gentle hand land on her lower back. Straightening, Blythe spun around a little too fast.
Her arm swung out to brace against the stone banister which caused her wine glass to fall to the ground and shatter. Stellan gripped her wrist, and before she could even blink had her moved away from the broken glass.
For a moment, all she could do was look up at him. He still held her, and his touch was like a hot brand on her upper arm.
“Careful, querida.” His voice was low, soft, and intimate. She could picture it in the bedroom, with nothing between them, and the shroud of darkness adding a hint of sensuality.