Descent (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell)

He regards me for a moment, an inscrutable look on his face that makes my tummy sink. It clears
a second later and he offers a bland smile. “Of course. Hollis will get it for you.”
___
By the time I’m finished working and catching up on all the messages I missed, Chef Ryan is
nearly finished with our appetizer and there’s no time to shower. I head to the bathroom to wash up
and change into the dinner dress Calvin left draped across the bed, but I can’t help noticing he forgot
to give me panties.
I’m tempted to go into his walk-in closet and see if I can find a stash of clothing meant for me
and grab them myself.
I’m one step inside the closet when I’m besieged by the scent of him, the overwhelmingly
masculine energy of his clothing and accessories hung up and neatly organized. I had to come in this
closet earlier to grab one of his dress shirts to paint in, but I zipped in and right back out. Being in
here, I felt like he would catch me even though I knew he wasn’t home.
I don’t linger now, either.
I give up on the search for panties without giving it much effort. I grab the outfit he set out for me
and look it over.
It’s a stylish metallic gray mini dress. I’m not sure how comfortable it will be, but when I run my
hand along the interior fabric, it’s nice and soft. When I pull it on, it clings to my body and hits toward
the top of my thigh.
I don’t mind wearing short, sexy dresses, but the lack of underwear presents a problem with a
dress this length.
Calvin is seated at the smaller table when I come back out. He asks how my day was, but I don’t
politely ask the same in return. I agonize over my silence, but despite my goal of infuriating him today
not working even a little bit, I know the only way out of here is for him to get bored of me.
A dinner companion who won’t speak to him can’t be much fun. I would up the rudeness quotient
and mess around on my phone while we eat, but he took it back after I finished catching up.
He tries a few more times to talk to me. He asks what the book I’m illustrating is about, how
long I have to complete it, if I’ll dive right into the next project or if I take time off in between.
I don’t answer any of his questions.
My stony silence only ends when I finally meet his gaze and ask, “Do you know how Lance is
doing?”