He set down the high-stemmed glass and casually slipped off his dampened robe. Holding the phone in one hand and pressing it to his ear, Titus Zane began to speak, his voice laced with laughter.
"Beatrice Hargrave?"
"It's me, Sister Zane." Beatrice Hargrave's voice came through the receiver, sounding somewhat sullen, "Can you come out for a moment,"
Titus Zane stood up and walked to the mirror. Raising his other hand, he lightly touched the spot where the red wine had laced the air and saw his own reflection with a chest pushed out and hips curved. He couldn't help but turn his body, admiring his beautiful curves while on the phone.
"What happened?"
"Um, I'm feeling down and wanted to chat with Sister Zane."
"Alone?" Other than that time at the club, Beatrice Hargrave was always surrounded by assistants and bodyguards wherever she went.
