“Would you like to see?” I ask, staring up at Ronaldo through my lashes. “I think this blouse would be a fine addition to the checkered pattern.”.
“Sit down there,” he directs, pointing toward the dining room table.
Utterly confused, my mouth flops.
“Did I do something wr—”
“No, mia rosa, you could never.” His tone is deeper now, and my lips part when I notice the rather large bulge in his trousers.
Excitement replaces any ugly feelings I had moments before, and I pivot on my feet and do as he says.
his footsteps echo from behind me, approaching me as slowly as he always
does. Like a predator stalking his prey, keeping himself hidden until the second he pounces.
He pauses directly behind me
“A queen has more important duties than undressing herself. Let me take care of that for you.”