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The Dirty Series 2(3)

By:Amelia Wilde



Then the moment fades, and Christian shakes his head, a little, sexy half-smile on his face.

“I don’t mean to freak you out,” he says finally, and I let out a little laugh of relief.

“Jesus Christ, I hope not,” I say, and then it’s his turn to laugh. It’s a damn good thing we’re going to spend the weekend getting comfortable before we dive into anything serious.

It’s already serious, says the voice in the back of my mind. I can’t really argue.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” I say, giving him a coy smile.

“Any special places you want to tell me about?”

“Not a cottage in the Hamptons, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, not unkindly. “Where did you vacation?”

“Anywhere,” I say. “Everywhere. My parents were camper people.”

“Camper people?” Christian looks mildly confused.

“They liked to haul a pop-up camper behind their car. That’s where we’d stay when we went on vacation.”

“Oh,” says Christian thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’m the camper type.”

“No?”

“That doesn’t seem like it would be…sturdy.”

“They’re plenty sturdy.”

“Not for the kinds of things I’d like to do to you on vacation.”

I suck in my breath, heat rising again between my legs, and then I bite down on my bottom lip. “Not fair.”

“It’s the truth.”

In front of us, the partition lowers. Without taking his eyes off the road, Louis calls back to Christian. “We’re here, Mr. Pierce. Should I drop you off in front?”

“Great.”

I look out the window. The winding drive we’re on is large enough, and long enough, to be an actual road, which is what I assumed we were traveling on until just this moment. Then Louis pulls the car around a circular drive in front of an honest-to-God mansion.

My mouth drops open. I should have expected this, but I was so caught up in our…activities…and then our conversation that I didn’t bother to ask how big this place was. I look back at Christian, who is smiling, his eyes shining with pride and anticipation.

“The cottage,” he says.

Sure, I think, too excited to admit out loud. This is a cottage, and I’m a princess!





Chapter Thirty





Christian



Quinn steps inside the front entry to the cottage—she’s right, the name is possibly the biggest goddamn understatement in history—like she’s entering a castle, or a cathedral. The brickwork and the soaring windows contribute to the effect, and so does the fact that the staff has lined up in the foyer to greet us.

It’s not a large staff, but Quinn’s eyes widen nonetheless.

“This is Robert, the chef,” I say, introducing her to the stocky man who is dark and handsome, although not very tall. He shakes Quinn’s hand with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Rosemary, the housekeeper.” Rosemary steps forward, her grandmotherly vibe putting Quinn at ease. “We also have a gardener who’s here three days a week, and of course you know Louis.” At that moment, Louis appears from a side entrance carrying two suitcases, then disappears up the grand staircase with a nod.

“Rosemary, Robert, this is Quinn.”

“I’m so—I’m so pleased to meet you,” Quinn says, blushing a little. She must feel out of her element, to let a little thing like meeting my staff throw her off. This is nothing—nothing—like the apartment I took her to. That might as well be a hotel for all the personality it has.

“Lovely to meet you, as well,” Rosemary replies in return, beaming at Quinn. “She’s lovely, Mr. Pierce.”

“Thank you, Rosemary,” I say, and then, with a nod, I let them go back to their business.

Robert lingers for one more moment. “I have a late dinner prepared for the both of you, Mr. Pierce. Would you like Rosemary to bring it up to your suite in about an hour?”

“Wonderful.”

“Excellent,” Robert says, then turns on his heel and hurries back in the general direction of the kitchen.

Alone at last, I turn to Quinn, who’s still gazing around her like she’s in a foreign country. “Would you like a tour?”

“Yes,” she says with a definitive nod. “I have got to see this place. This is incredible.”

I show her the formal dining room, which has a table large enough to seat twenty-four people, the downstairs library, and the formal living room. We peek into the kitchen, where Robert is busy putting the finishing touches on our meal, and Quinn glances across at me. “Those are some seriously fancy appliances.”

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