Read Online Your Red Always by Leeann Whitaker - Free Book Online Page A

towels, and two tubes. One shampoo, and the other conditioner. Oh my god. I’ve seen this stuff in one of Cate’s hair magazines: Phillip B’s Russian Imperial. One wash with that stuff is the equivalent to a day’s salary at Aroma. 
    “Mr Knight thought you would like to shower first.”
    She’s similar to a robot, still, and lacking in any expression. Has he entered this message into her body, so he can boss me around through her?
    She stares, waiting for me to free her hands. I hum timidly. I do need to wash. I stink of last night. Stale beer, mixed with the faint tone of Hugo Red. And my hair, well, I dread to think. But this is crazy. I can’t possibly get naked here.
    I place my jacket over my forearm, and aversely reach out for the towels.
    “Ah, Elizabeth.” 
    Good god. Breathe in Liz . He’s here, all fresh and fine, but more casual than usual. Black jeans, grey V-neck t-shirt, and Lacoste sneakers. 
    “Sara,” he says, as I stand like a rabbit in headlights. “I need you to pull up the spreadsheets for the Rome division, and cancel my eleven o’clock.”
    “Yes Mr Knight… would you like me to rearrange it for a later date?” Sara stands to attention.
    “No, schedule a conference call for tomorrow with Mr Angelino, I’m busy today,” he adds. 
    He’s staring right at me, and my skin starts to boil. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol coming out from my pores, or his presence that’s affecting me this way. Most likely both. 
    “Elizabeth, I’ll speak with you soon… go grab a shower,” he says, nonchalantly.
    He turns, before I have the chance to ask where my phone is, and disappears through a door at the far end of the apartment.
    I remain on the spot, cradling the plush soft cotton towels. My brains mushy and I’m so damn muddled up right now. I have options. I can just leave my phone, escape through what I can only presume might be the front door. But he’s just left my airspace, and for some screwed up reason, I want him back in it. Indecisively, I head back into the bedroom.
    After listening to my angel and demon, pointing out the pros and the cons of me sticking around. I sided with my demon. It wasn’t difficult. My angel wanted me to be sensible and safe, and all my demon had to do, was place the fantasy of Knight’s hands on my body in my mind. It was game over for goodness after that.
    I remove my smelly clothes, and I turn on the lever in the wet-room. The jet stream emerges instantly. It’s so powerful and warm. I turn my back to the water, slanting my neck. I pour a blob of Russian Imperial into my palm, and lather it through my hair. It smells so sweet and foams perfectly. I rinse and wash away the moisturising froth, then give my panda eyes a quick scrub.
    Steam floats around me as I unfold one of the massive towels. I’m not going to leave this wet-room until I’m dry and fully clothed. I rub down my top half, and towel dry my hair.
    “Come on!” I grit, dancing side to side, trying to pull the skin tight dress up over my damp body.
    I tidy and mop up the water the best I can. Then pick up the used towel that is now stained with my mascara. 
    I look around the bedroom for a hairbrush, cautious as a cat burglar. Surly there’s a comb or something. If I had my bag, I wouldn’t have this damn problem. I open a small top drawer in a long dresser. Perfect, there is a brush, not just one, but a set of fancy hairbrushes in a red velvet case. All look brand new.
    Your fury teeth Liz. 
    I quickly dash to bathroom and look to the sinks. Not one toothbrush. There’s paste and mouthwash in the white cabinet, but nothing else. I can’t speak to him with rancid breath. Oh sod it. I squeeze a small blue blob on my finger and rub the best I can.
    Okay. Now I’m as ready as I can be. He seemed pleasant enough earlier, and like he once said, he doesn’t bite. I draw in a breath as I timidly move through the wall panel.
    Oh good. He’s not here. It gives me time to