Bound by Ivy Read Online Free Page B

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    It’s a be autiful, crisp winter day, and the sky is white through the criss-crossed townhouse window. The sun is pale overhead.
    I pull myself up in the bed, feeling the silky duvet fall down over my bare legs. I’m still wearing my panties and a black vest with coloured stars all over it. As memories of last night come back to me, I feel warmth travel up my abdomen.
    What does Marc have planned for me today?
    I shiver at the possibilities.
    There’s a brown trunk in the corner of the room, and I see underwear and a change of clothes laid out on it. My underwear and my clothes. I smile.
    Marc had my clothes couriered over from Ivy College af ter the whole Giles Getty incident, and he arranged a room in the townhouse to store them all. There’s a bed in that room too, but of course I’ve never slept in it.
    I’m always in Marc’s bedroom.
    Some mornings, I wake up and find Marc lying beside me. He’s always awake and watching me intently, like I’m made of china and about to fall and break. Other mornings, Marc wakes up before me and lays out my clothes. Then I meet him downstairs in the kitchen for breakfast.
    W hen I wake to an empty bed, I find it a little strange. I think, in Marc’s case, leaving me sleeping is a habit left over from the days when he couldn’t let go. When he absolutely had to stay in charge at all times. But he can let go now. At least, most of the time.
    I’m about to cli mb out of bed when the door creaks, and I’m treated to the sight of a bare-chested Marc Blackwell in grey sweatpants.
    He’s carrying a silver breakfast tray and his floppy brown hair looks a little damp. As he comes closer, I smell shampoo and cologne.
    ‘Awake at seven on the dot.’ Marc smiles his quirky, deadly smile – the one that has female cinema audiences weak at the knees. His teeth are so perfect, and his lips, the way they curve in that devilish way, are so ... I don’t know the words, but let’s just say that smile does things to me. ‘Your routine is very predictable Miss Rose.’
    ‘Marc, I haven’t showered yet .’ I’m feeling sleep dirty and wish I could brush my teeth before he comes any nearer. When we wake up in bed together, I don’t care that I haven’t washed. But if he’s already showered, I want to take a shower too.
    ‘ I like you when you haven’t showered.’ Marc places the tray on the end of the bed. ‘I love the way you smell.’ His low voice hits me in all the right places. ‘I want you to eat well this morning. You’ll be needing your stamina.’
    ‘Oh?’ I raise a teasing eyebrow. ‘What for?’
    ‘What would be the fun if I told you? Eat.’
    On the tray, I see a bowl of porridge topped with crispy bacon, maple syrup and pumpkin seeds. There’s also a plate of Eggs Benedict decorated with a sprig of parsley, under a glass cloche. And a bowl of fresh strawberries and yoghurt. Wow. There’s a lot to eat.
    Next to the porridge and eggs stand two cut crystal glasses – one full of pink grapefruit juice, the other holding a stem of ivy.
    I smile at the ivy. ‘ Did you pick that from your garden?’ I ask.
    ‘ Your garden,’ says Marc, sitting beside me on the bed and arranging my hair around my shoulders. ‘There’s no question who it belongs to now.’
    I feel myself grinning. ‘I love it out there. There’s so much more I’d like to do.’
    ‘Write a list of any plants you need. Equipment. I’ll have Rodney take care of it. Now eat.’
    ‘ It looks amazing,’ I say. ‘But ... there’s so much. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage everything.’
    ‘Last night was a long night, and you need to replenish yourself. I have plans for you this morning. Plans that require stamina.’ Marc raises an eyebrow.
    My stomach flips over, remembering the ‘plans’ he spoke about last night. When it’s finished flipping, I slide the tray of food towards me.
    I pick up a silver spoon with square edges and dip it into the porridge.
    ‘Mmm ,’ I