Brooke Read Online Free

me. “Impressive, huh?”
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œI got lucky when she fell in love with me. She’s a constant surprise. Pamela has her own kind of rare beauty, and she knows what beauty can do andcannot do,” he said, nodding at me. “You’re going to learn a lot of information that’s practical for an attractive female,” he promised. The way he spoke made it seem as if Pamela and now I, which I didn’t believe for a moment, were citizens of a different country or part of a different species because of our looks. “She can be innocent and childlike when she has to and sharp, seductive, sophisticated, and keen when she has to, and she knows when to be which. Few women I know do, and that includes the brainy ones who work at my firm, the Ms. this and the Ms. thats,” he said with some bitterness.
    He seemed to become aware that he was getting too serious and smiled.
    â€œThat’s a state-of-the-art digital sound system,” he pointed out, “with Surround Sound. Few people have it, the technology is so new. Comfortable room, huh?”
    I was listening with half an ear, part of me still awed at the luxuriousness in this overwhelming house. He continued the tour, showing me the two downstairs baths, servants’ quarters, the kitchen, which looked big enough to handle a restaurant full of people, and the library, his office at home, which was dark and baronial with hundreds of leather-bound books.
    â€œI’m afraid I’m unreasonable when it comes to my office. I don’t permit anyone in here without me being present. Too many important documents and private papers,” he explained. I saw a machine rolling out printed matter. “I get things faxeddirectly here sometimes. Well, now let’s go upstairs and see your room.”
    I returned with him to the stairway and began to ascend. We heard what sounded like opera coming from a set of closed double doors at the end of the hallway.
    â€œPamela likes to listen to operettas while she’s in her boudoir.” When I made a face, he laughed. “You’ll see.”
    We stopped at a tall door, and he glanced at me with that impish glitter in his eyes just before he opened it. This time, I couldn’t swallow back my gasp.
    The room, my room, was four times the size of what my room had been at the orphanage, and my bed was big enough to be a trampoline! It had four light pink posts and a headboard with a long-stemmed rose embossed on it. There was a milk-white desk with drawers and across the room a long counter with mirrors and a vanity table. The table was covered with brushes, containers of makeup, eyeliner, tubes of lipstick, a hair dryer, and an ivory box full of barrettes and hair ties.
    All of my new clothes were put away in the dressers and large walk-in closet, and still there was room for lots and lots more. In the closet were mirrors and even a small table and chair.
    On both sides of the bed were large windows draped in white and pink gingham curtains. My room looked out on a view of the countryside, and in the distance I could see a small lake.
    Peter opened a cabinet across from the bed toshow me a small television set. He then opened the bottom cabinet to reveal the sound system.
    â€œWe’ll get you some music this weekend,” he promised. “Pamela already has the next few days planned out, and shopping is a large part of it. So?” he said, standing there with his hands on his hips. “Are you happy?”
    I shook my head. Happy just wasn’t a big enough word. I turned around and then touched things to be sure they were all really there and this wasn’t a dream.
    â€œThis is my room?” I finally had to ask.
    He laughed. “Of course. Why don’t you rest and then shower or bathe and dress for dinner, our first together. Pamela has had something special prepared. She’s determined to spoil you rotten. She says a beautiful woman