Read Online The Letter by Rebecca Bernadette Mance - Free Book Online Page A

her.
    “ Please sit down, Victoria. This is where I always eat, this is my salon.” A silent demand framed his gentle request.
    She resisted making a move toward the seat he held out so temptingly for her.
    “ You have your own table? In your own room?” she asked, incredulously seeking words that would allow an escape. “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”
    “ Ridiculous? Perhaps. But yes, this is my room and of course, my table. Now please, humor me by sitting down.” His silver eyes twinkled into hers.
    To avoid being extremely impolite, Victoria reluctantly went to the chair he held out and sat down, her back ramrod straight with resistance.
    “ I have never had my dining room referred to as ridiculous, I am truly wounded.” He chuckled as he contemplated her stiff posture. “There is a very good reason why I have my own eating salon in this hotel.” He paused, leaning down to her ear and lowering his voice to a sensuous husky whisper and said, “I own this hotel.”
    “ Oh,” Victoria replied, her voice faint with astonishment.
    William gave her a devastatingly charming smile as he stepped away from her and pulled his own chair out.
    Victoria was incredulous. His personal eating salon and his own hotel? Now that staggered the mind. It was pathetically obvious to her that she didn’t really belong here.
    She had to admit, however, it was flattering to have so much attention reserved just for her. And if she was honest, she felt like she belonged in this dress and in this room even as absurd as the notion was. At this moment, and only at this moment, would she allow herself to belong here — only for tonight, just one magical night, she could pretend.
    Seated across from her William examined her in studied silence.
    Wine was poured and William picked up his glass and toasted her. Victoria timorously responded in kind.
    “ To the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.” His eyes burned into hers, seizing her and pulling breath from her body.
    Cheeks flaming, Victoria smiled back and murmured, “thank you” before tipping her own glass and taking a long, fortifying drink.
    The waiter arrived promptly to save her from his potent amity.
    After they had ordered their food, she -- baked cod and he -- roast duckling, Victoria reluctantly decided to confront him with the store problems even though she preferred to bask in his charm and her surroundings indefinitely.
    “ Mr. Worthington . . . Will,” she amended,” we really need to talk about the store.”
    William paused, his glass mid-air, his eyes probing hers intently.
    “ What is there to talk about? I understand exactly what you want from me. I think it was clear from your father’s letter.” He took a slow drink from his wine glass while watching her over the rim. “His letter in fact explained everything quite clearly and with a great deal of vigor.”
    A hot blush of embarrassment spread across her face.
    “ I need to know what you are going to do about the situation with the store,” Victoria bravely pushed on even as the alarm bells went off in her head.
    “ I wonder . . .” he started, then paused, looking at his index finger caressing the stem of his wine glass making subtle patterns over the crystal. Her heart lurched in reaction and a shiver passed through her.
    “ Has it occurred to you, Victoria, that I might want something from you?” he asked; his voice velvety and his eyes crashed hot back into hers.
    The wind left Victoria’s lungs. Had she heard him correctly?
    “ From me? What could I possibly have that you would want?” She stopped when his eyes burned her with their heat.
    Her lips parted and the question fell from her lips in a quivering whisper, “What do you want from me?”
    There was an endless, tense pause while he held her prisoner with his magnetic silver gaze.
    “ I want you,” he answered in a low, husky voice reaching across the table to caress her cheek with a warm