Read Online The Fated Dance: Bound to the Shadow Dancer by Leeann Whitaker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leeann Whitaker
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the fridge. “I will deal with my father… and Jenkins. And I will be back on site first thing Monday,” I firmly state.
“I don’t want to meddle here, but are you sure everything is okay?” he stares while studying me closely.
I tip a good quantity of beer into my mouth avoiding eye contact, preparing to outright lie again.
I swallow. “Everything is fine, Henry. It’s Friday, go home and spend it with your family.”
“Okay…. you have this month’s spreadsheets on your desk that need looking over.” He makes his way to the door.
“See you on Monday, Henry.”
***
I’m showered, shaved, and changed, waiting for Jen to arrive. I fasten the top button on my shirt and sit at my desk. I open my emails while brushing my hand over my damp hair to see my father right there on screen, glaring at me.
To: Grayson Crane
From: Winston Crane of Crane Energy Corp
Subject: Correspondence
Grayson
I have on numerous occasions contacted you, and each time you have been unreachable. I would like my weekly report on progress made on the renovations. You stated when I gave you this position your competence in overseeing all work done. As you are aware, at this present time I am in Dubai on business. I will be expecting to speak with you first thing Monday. Not Henry.
Winston Crane.
I clamp my jaw down and type the words : Father, go fuck yoursel f . I immediately delete of course. No one tells Winston Crane what they think of him. No, they just cower down to his goddamn feet. I hate my own Father. Though, I guess he did do me a favor by not asking me about my test results. He’s clearly forgot and his PA hasn’t reminded him. Suits me. The less I have to deal with him the better.
The doorbell rings. I glance at the time on the screen to see it’s seven-forty pm. She’s here, and early. I switch off the monitor with a feeling of discomfort inside my chest. I haven’t felt nerves like this since my interview with Professor Longridge at Oxford University.
I dash up the steps, take a breath, and open the front door. Her eyelids widen and her poor bottom lip is being attacked by her teeth, anxiously. Even though it is an evocative sight to see, the wetness of her mouth shimmering upon her lips, it’s my job here is to make this flow smoothly.
“Jen,” I move aside to let her through, stealing a lungful of her secretly.
She stands at the top of the stairs, still in apprehension. I wanted this, and I’m responsible for making her feel awkward. I would be chivalrous and tell her she is no longer needed, if it wasn’t for the burning need to see her body move overbearing me.
“Jen, can I take your jacket?”
Without a word or expression, she slips her black jacket from her shoulders to reveal her dancewear. Immediately I boil, studying her long legs up to the fluid curve of her hips. The top of her bare shoulders are coated with cascades of her wavy hair; hair that lies delicately over a black skintight vest. Damn these primitive urges. I want her. I want to touch her skin, inhale her scent, and do things to her body that will fulfil my needs.
She turns, holding out her jacket, and catches me ogling. I promptly look away and free her hands, releasing a frustrated cough.
“I’ve brought my iPod,” she opens her hand to reveal the flower covered device. “Have I to just?” she says quietly, pointing to her room.
“Yeah… sure.” I make my way down the steps and she cautiously follows.
I flip on the light switch to the mood lighting I would like, soft. My body remains in the doorway as she hovers by me slowly. She freezes in the center of the room, waiting for me to disappear.
“The docking station is in the corner,” I explain to her timid reflection. “My song choice is track seven.”
She tilts her neck side to side as she makes her way over to the speakers. Her warm-up has begun already. I would like to
“I don’t want to meddle here, but are you sure everything is okay?” he stares while studying me closely.
I tip a good quantity of beer into my mouth avoiding eye contact, preparing to outright lie again.
I swallow. “Everything is fine, Henry. It’s Friday, go home and spend it with your family.”
“Okay…. you have this month’s spreadsheets on your desk that need looking over.” He makes his way to the door.
“See you on Monday, Henry.”
***
I’m showered, shaved, and changed, waiting for Jen to arrive. I fasten the top button on my shirt and sit at my desk. I open my emails while brushing my hand over my damp hair to see my father right there on screen, glaring at me.
To: Grayson Crane
From: Winston Crane of Crane Energy Corp
Subject: Correspondence
Grayson
I have on numerous occasions contacted you, and each time you have been unreachable. I would like my weekly report on progress made on the renovations. You stated when I gave you this position your competence in overseeing all work done. As you are aware, at this present time I am in Dubai on business. I will be expecting to speak with you first thing Monday. Not Henry.
Winston Crane.
I clamp my jaw down and type the words : Father, go fuck yoursel f . I immediately delete of course. No one tells Winston Crane what they think of him. No, they just cower down to his goddamn feet. I hate my own Father. Though, I guess he did do me a favor by not asking me about my test results. He’s clearly forgot and his PA hasn’t reminded him. Suits me. The less I have to deal with him the better.
The doorbell rings. I glance at the time on the screen to see it’s seven-forty pm. She’s here, and early. I switch off the monitor with a feeling of discomfort inside my chest. I haven’t felt nerves like this since my interview with Professor Longridge at Oxford University.
I dash up the steps, take a breath, and open the front door. Her eyelids widen and her poor bottom lip is being attacked by her teeth, anxiously. Even though it is an evocative sight to see, the wetness of her mouth shimmering upon her lips, it’s my job here is to make this flow smoothly.
“Jen,” I move aside to let her through, stealing a lungful of her secretly.
She stands at the top of the stairs, still in apprehension. I wanted this, and I’m responsible for making her feel awkward. I would be chivalrous and tell her she is no longer needed, if it wasn’t for the burning need to see her body move overbearing me.
“Jen, can I take your jacket?”
Without a word or expression, she slips her black jacket from her shoulders to reveal her dancewear. Immediately I boil, studying her long legs up to the fluid curve of her hips. The top of her bare shoulders are coated with cascades of her wavy hair; hair that lies delicately over a black skintight vest. Damn these primitive urges. I want her. I want to touch her skin, inhale her scent, and do things to her body that will fulfil my needs.
She turns, holding out her jacket, and catches me ogling. I promptly look away and free her hands, releasing a frustrated cough.
“I’ve brought my iPod,” she opens her hand to reveal the flower covered device. “Have I to just?” she says quietly, pointing to her room.
“Yeah… sure.” I make my way down the steps and she cautiously follows.
I flip on the light switch to the mood lighting I would like, soft. My body remains in the doorway as she hovers by me slowly. She freezes in the center of the room, waiting for me to disappear.
“The docking station is in the corner,” I explain to her timid reflection. “My song choice is track seven.”
She tilts her neck side to side as she makes her way over to the speakers. Her warm-up has begun already. I would like to
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