Read Online Player's Ultimatum by Koko Brown - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Koko Brown
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tucked Signora Bracci’s arm under his and guided her back down the hal with Malfi trailing their heels.
Yvonne entered the bedroom last. Smiling to herself, she marveled at the romantic scene she tried so hard to create for the better part of the week. Two dozen vanilla-scented candles and a profusion of white crocuses topped every available surface.
She piled the bed with dozens of pillows and placed a pair of her bedroom slippers at the foot. On one of the nightstands, she’d set a picture of the two of them nestled in a simple silver frame.
Helena walked around the room with pursed lips. Yvonne tracked her as she crossed the room and headed toward the ‘his’
and ‘hers’ closets. Opening the door on the right, she entered Robbie’s personal closet.
Like the rest of the room, his closet was just as luxurious and filled with a wardrobe rivaling any rock stars. Helena nodded silently at the profusion of dress shirts, tailored suits, designer jeans and Italian loafers lining the wal s. His mix of the understated with the glamorous was definitely appealing. So much so, Helena requested a few pictures of Robbie in the room.
Yvonne stood back with a pleased as punch smile as Malfi shot off several rounds with Robbie in several poses. There was one of him rifling through his Italian suits, selecting a tie, and even one of him pretending to shine a pair of handmade Gucci loafers.
“While they are finishing up here, I would love to see your closet Yvonne.” The bot om fel out of Yvonne’s stomach. She’d overlooked one major detail. She hadn’t moved her clothes into the other closet.
“M-my closet,” Yvonne stammered as she fol owed behind the other woman. In the short time it took for them to cross the hal anxiety had wrapped her throat and threatened to cut off her oxygen.
“Wait!” she managed to squeak as Helena lifted a wel -manicured hand to turn the glass knob leading to the adjoining closet.
For good measure, she stepped in front of the closet door.
“My…my closet is off limits today. It’s a total mess,” Yvonne bit her lip and pretended to be embarrassed. “I tried on zil ions of outfits today in order to look my best for your magazine and I haven’t had the chance to clean up after myself.” Yvonne glanced at Robbie and shot him a ‘help me out here’ look. Catching on, he stepped forward and took a hold of Signora Bracci’s arm. “You don’t want to go in there, you might never find your way back out.” Robbie ushered her out of the suite. “I suggested we get a maid, but Yvonne insists she can handle the house on her own,” he lied. On the way out the room, he picked up the cleaning services business card off the dresser and slid it in his pocket. “How about we go downstairs and have some espresso and some tiramisu?”
“Sounds lovely,” Helena purred, patting him on the arm. “If you want, I can recommend a reputable cleaning service. They are efficient and more importantly discreet.”
Unwil ing to let Helena out of her sight, Yvonne fol owed them downstairs. She barely cleared the first step. Their party was one person short. Skidding to a halt and heart beating faster than a speeding train, she ran back upstairs.
Expecting to find Malfi rifling through her drawers, Yvonne burst into the bedroom ready to haul the lit le mole out of there.
“ Signor Malfi,” she called out, “ andiamo !”
At the sight of the diminutive photographer standing in the center of Robbie’s bedroom firing off several shots, Yvonne slumped against the door frame with relief.
Startled, Malfi spun around. “I was wondering if you would like a cup of espresso or some tiramisu. The head chef at La Tripoli Hotel did the catering.” Yvonne groaned. How stupid she must sound trying to entice him downstairs with caffeine and sugar.
Malfi surprised her by giving her a lit le smile revealing a set of buck teeth. Yvonne straightened. He’d taken her picture in the stadium tunnel and at
Yvonne entered the bedroom last. Smiling to herself, she marveled at the romantic scene she tried so hard to create for the better part of the week. Two dozen vanilla-scented candles and a profusion of white crocuses topped every available surface.
She piled the bed with dozens of pillows and placed a pair of her bedroom slippers at the foot. On one of the nightstands, she’d set a picture of the two of them nestled in a simple silver frame.
Helena walked around the room with pursed lips. Yvonne tracked her as she crossed the room and headed toward the ‘his’
and ‘hers’ closets. Opening the door on the right, she entered Robbie’s personal closet.
Like the rest of the room, his closet was just as luxurious and filled with a wardrobe rivaling any rock stars. Helena nodded silently at the profusion of dress shirts, tailored suits, designer jeans and Italian loafers lining the wal s. His mix of the understated with the glamorous was definitely appealing. So much so, Helena requested a few pictures of Robbie in the room.
Yvonne stood back with a pleased as punch smile as Malfi shot off several rounds with Robbie in several poses. There was one of him rifling through his Italian suits, selecting a tie, and even one of him pretending to shine a pair of handmade Gucci loafers.
“While they are finishing up here, I would love to see your closet Yvonne.” The bot om fel out of Yvonne’s stomach. She’d overlooked one major detail. She hadn’t moved her clothes into the other closet.
“M-my closet,” Yvonne stammered as she fol owed behind the other woman. In the short time it took for them to cross the hal anxiety had wrapped her throat and threatened to cut off her oxygen.
“Wait!” she managed to squeak as Helena lifted a wel -manicured hand to turn the glass knob leading to the adjoining closet.
For good measure, she stepped in front of the closet door.
“My…my closet is off limits today. It’s a total mess,” Yvonne bit her lip and pretended to be embarrassed. “I tried on zil ions of outfits today in order to look my best for your magazine and I haven’t had the chance to clean up after myself.” Yvonne glanced at Robbie and shot him a ‘help me out here’ look. Catching on, he stepped forward and took a hold of Signora Bracci’s arm. “You don’t want to go in there, you might never find your way back out.” Robbie ushered her out of the suite. “I suggested we get a maid, but Yvonne insists she can handle the house on her own,” he lied. On the way out the room, he picked up the cleaning services business card off the dresser and slid it in his pocket. “How about we go downstairs and have some espresso and some tiramisu?”
“Sounds lovely,” Helena purred, patting him on the arm. “If you want, I can recommend a reputable cleaning service. They are efficient and more importantly discreet.”
Unwil ing to let Helena out of her sight, Yvonne fol owed them downstairs. She barely cleared the first step. Their party was one person short. Skidding to a halt and heart beating faster than a speeding train, she ran back upstairs.
Expecting to find Malfi rifling through her drawers, Yvonne burst into the bedroom ready to haul the lit le mole out of there.
“ Signor Malfi,” she called out, “ andiamo !”
At the sight of the diminutive photographer standing in the center of Robbie’s bedroom firing off several shots, Yvonne slumped against the door frame with relief.
Startled, Malfi spun around. “I was wondering if you would like a cup of espresso or some tiramisu. The head chef at La Tripoli Hotel did the catering.” Yvonne groaned. How stupid she must sound trying to entice him downstairs with caffeine and sugar.
Malfi surprised her by giving her a lit le smile revealing a set of buck teeth. Yvonne straightened. He’d taken her picture in the stadium tunnel and at
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