Clinton's POV.
"It was a mistake to come," she tells me, looking over my shoulder at beautiful Elizabeth. She's off the floor and busy smoothing her red form fitting dress as she glances at us from the corner of her eyes.
"Perhaps," I say, "but here you are."
"I came to say thank you for the piano," she says. Her smouldering brown eyes darting from mine to the floor. I like her submissiveness and innocence. It's refreshing. Perhaps because I've always been attracted to bolder women.
"It's nothing you should have bothered about," I tell her.
"How did you know I liked the piano," she asks curiously as I lead her away from the sitting room and into the adjacent room. It's a smaller room yet stunning in it's clash of leather and silk. It's remained unchanged since the year 1668. A homage to a past I could never forget.
"You have the fingers of a pianist," I tell her, gesturing to the worn leather chair on my left next to the curtained window.
"I didn't think I would come here," she confess. "I didn't want to come."
He sits on the opposite chair next to mine and leans back into it. He's perfectly dressed in a black shirt and tailored trousers.
"
"I'm hosting a party in three days time," he says, ignoring my question.
"I know," I say. "Your driver told me."
"Gregory
YOU ARE READING
Silence And Submission (Editing)
ChickLitThis is an unedited first draft. Therefore, any mistake will be corrected when the story is completed. Irene returns home after years abroad only to find out that her father is dead. Assasinated by the D' Mercurio family. When she finds herself in...
