Dmitry's Closet by Nelson, S. (read people like a book .txt) 📕

Did he really care about her at all? What if she was reading too much into their friendship all along? Dmitry was a millionaire with homes and businesses all over the world. He was beautiful and brilliant. And she was a broke, orphaned virgin with nothing to offer. Did he really take her seriously or was she just something to do for the moment?

The steam curled her long hair dangling down her back and over her long caramel shoulders, cooking through her skin and interrupting her thoughts. She couldn’t tell if it was the heat or her heart,but she suddenly felt claustro-phobic. She wiped the water from her face and took a deep breath.

“Ugh, I need to get out of here,” she said, turning off the violent water rushing from the showerhead.

Wrapping a large terrycloth towel around her body, she opened the door to the congested bathroom and allowed the cloud to drift into her bedroom. Shivering, she dropped the fluffy towel and slipped on her short, black silk robe quickly, trying to minimize her exposure to the cold air blasting through the vents.

Royal sat on the side of the bed for a moment, as still as could be in a daze. Her mind began to drift again, back to Dmitry. It had been so thoughtful to put on such a grand affair for her. However, she was pained by his unexpected interruption. And she was even more pained by his return.

With Dmitry, she could never tell what was next. He was a spur of the momenttype of man, something that was not always a good thing. What bothered her more was her growing connection to him. Was it possible that she was the only one who felt the strong, red emotions? Were all the smiles, kisses and compliments simply kind gestures of a seasoned man who felt sympathy for an underprivileged youth? Had she romanticized their friendship into some-thing more because of her lack of intimate relationships? Her questions were endless.

Blinking fast to push back the tears, she thought about the work that was still left to do and grabbed her notepad off the nightstand. There were other things to occupy her time with besides sulking. Things that had to be done. Feeling sorry for herself would do her no good. Dmitry was probably having drinks with his real friends at that very moment – not thinking about her.

To change her dismal mood, she would make herself a cup of hot tea, sit in front of the fireplace in the living room and tweak her marketing plan.

The thought comforted her. Work. It was the one thing that she could depend on to numb her senses and to remind her that there were things more important than silly, overrated emotions, like not starving to death or having a place to stay.

Remembering what itfelt like for her stomach to growl with no end, to have stomach cramps due to lack of food snapped her out of her thoughts of Dmitry. Grateful for evident and more importantly current blessings, she got up and headed to the kitchen.

As she entered out of her bedroom, she looked across the large living room in its darkness to see Dmitry quietly sitting by the fireplace on the couch sipping out of a crystal goblet with his long legs crossed. He stared into the fire. Thinking. Brooding. Stunned, she stopped in her foot-steps. Her heart pounded in her chest. She caught her fleeting breath and cleared her voice.

“Dmitry?” she whispered softly.

“Royal.” He looked up from his glass but didn’t move. His eyes focused on her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Dmitry chose his words carefully, visibly fighting with himself over what to say.

“Remember in restaurant, I saidthat I would see you later. Well, it’s later,” he said, putting down his glass.

“Yeah, it is,” she looked over at the clock. A quarter past midnight.

He followed her gaze to the grandfather clock and sighed.

“Sorry to come so late. It couldn’t be helped.”

“What was so urgent that you had to come tonight?”

“Don’t you already know?”

“If I did, would I ask?”

There was complete silence. The fireplace crackled.

“You know that you have money to burn when you have the air on and fireplace,” he said,redirecting his sudden discomfort. “It is just like you, you know. To have two forces working in the same room at the same time to satisfy you,and you never even notice.” A smile crept across his face as he looked over at the fire.

“Did you come over to tell me to turn off my fire-place?” Royal snapped.

“No.” Dmitry looked over at her and sighed. “I know that messed up with you tonight. And I wanted to come to you before it was too late to mend.” He smirked. “Tonight was supposed to be special. I wanted to talk to you about us now that shop is out of the way.”

“Us?” Royal’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Dah, I want there to be an us. You can’t tell me you don’t know how I feel about you. Everyone knows. It’s grown to be too difficult for me to hide.”

Royal bit her lip. So he did care. She was relieved, even without clarification.

“I know how I feel about you, but I’m clueless about how you feel about me,” she confessed, voice quivering. “I haven’t had much training in this. So, I’m really confused. I don’t know if you give me all this stuff and all this attention because you think of me as your pet or if you really like me or if you really, really like me.”

The darkness cloaked her face and the range of emotion that flashed over it, but Dmitry could detect her guard down without visibly seeing it. He stood up and walked over to her, towering over her. Taking her chin under his finger, he lifted her head where he could see her face under the moonlight shining in through the blinds.

“Royal, I don’t like you. I love you. There is