Her Haunted Millionaire

ChapterFour

"How freaking long is this staircase?", Isabelle scream-whispers into the darkness.

The staircase winds twice then ends at a dimly red lit corridor.  

Isabelle stands frozen, her dark hair and Raphaël's black jacket making her face appear paler.

Yes, besides the fact that you're as scared as a chicken before a wolf.

The corridor ends at a tall wooden door to her left and the right has wooden double doors which she's assuming open to his bedroom. Her gaze remains fixed on the double doors.

Could he be behind those? Tired, stretching his half naked body after a long days work. Flexing those strong...

Dear, God. Stop.

Isabelle shakes the image out of her head, it wouldn't help to face him while panting and burning because of the illicit thoughts she's having of him.
And with that penetrating gaze of his... he'd see right through her.

Isabelle bites her lip and frowns thinking.

He wouldn't go straight to bed, she doesn't think so.
If he's the type of man she thinks he is, he'd still be working. Even though he's home.

But she doesn't know where his office is. It could be either one of the doors. His bedroom might be the single door.

Stop thinking about his bedroom!

Well, it's to make sure she doesn't walk right into it. She'd absolutely hate to walk in on him undressed and unsuspecting.

Riiiiighhht... Of course you would.

Squaring her shoulders, then quickly hunching them, she begins to tiptoe towards the left end of the corridor. She has nothing to lose. Besides this job and maybe her life.

Dramatic much?

"Oh, shut up. You're not the one who has to do this. ", Isabelle stops in the corridor to snap aloud at the voice in her head...

Then she catches herself and bites her bottom lip at the realization that she's really snapping at a non-existent person in her head.

Not very true, see I am you are me am you are me am you. See?

"I should have gone for that psycho-analysis.", she mutters as she reaches the door.

Goodness, it's dead silent up here. Why doesn't he sneeze or something so she can know where he is?

Probably thinks himself too rich to catch a cold.
This is why she never really liked brooding, sexy, French millionaires.

And you've met how many?

"Shut up. "

Isabelle rolls her eyes and inhales deeply before turning the doorknob and walking right in.

Here we go!

She freezes with her hand on the doorknob.

She chose right! It is indeed his office and behind the large desk sits the devil in Armani.

Well, half Armani because he's taken his jacket off, which is now around her shoulders and God, it smells good!

Will you shut up and do what you're here for!

Right.

What she's here for, she must do what she's here for. Isabelle swallows as the anxiety squeezes around her heart again.