I looked at him, instantly worried. "What happens if you don't like anything I choose?"
That gentle smile he sometimes put on spread across his lips. "Nina, I have faith in you. I'm sure I'll love what you pick out."
There was that word again. Love. Now he was going to love my choices of artwork in addition to me and my penchant for honesty.
"Tristan, this all seems odd. Don't you have curators in your hotels who do this?"
"They deal with the museums that are housed in some of the hotels. This is different. My hotels are the best in luxury resorts and the people who stay in them expect the best in their surroundings. I have people who decorate them, others who do the tile work that make some look like the finest Roman mosaics, and others who design the rooms to be one of a kind at some of my hotels. What I want you to do is choose pieces that will make all of their work come together."
Suddenly, I felt entirely inept. All those times that I'd bragged that I knew about art now seemed foolish, as did I. Tristan actually expected me to choose pieces that the wealthiest people in the world would see when they paid top dollar to stay in his hotels. What if all my big talk about art had been just that?
Just talk.
"Okay. How many will I be doing?" I asked as I folded my hands in my lap to hide their shaking.
"I haven't decided yet. Maybe a goal of one a week would be a nice place to start."
One a week. Maybe I could handle this. Okay. One was entirely doable. "I'm going to need to know everything about each suite or penthouse. Choosing pieces isn't something that can be done without seeing what the rooms look like and what style is prevalent."
"Of course. We won't be visiting every one, but I'll make sure we get to a few."
I collapsed back in his office chair, crashing against the padded leather. "We're visiting some of them? Where are they located?"
"Around the world. Why?"
"I don't have a passport, Tristan." I don't know why, but that sounded so common as the words left my mouth, like he'd see me as someone less than him because I didn't routinely leave the country.
"Then we'll have to get you one. I'll put a rush on that, but in the meantime, we'll stick with domestic properties."
Tristan began tapping away at his keyboard as I mumbled, "I guess that's that." He seemed to be happy with the way things were going, but I was still nervous and unsure of myself. While my insecurities did their best to plague my already unsettled mind, my eyes focused on him as he searched for something online and I was struck by how relaxed he was at that moment. If I didn't know how much he owned or how much money he made, he'd look like any other man working on his laptop.
I wanted to reach out and touch him to make sure he wasn't a dream. This Tristan was so unlike the man I'd seen in the newspaper and even unlike the distant one I'd begun to fall for. Even dressed for work, he looked similar to someone like me.
"How old are you?" I asked impulsively, suddenly realizing I had no idea about that or other details that would have come to light with a boyfriend by now, like where he went to school or what he'd majored in.
He stopped his typing and turned to look at me. "Twenty-nine."
"What did you go to school for?"
With a smile, he answered, "Nothing."
His answer surprised me. "What do you mean? You run an entire company. Didn't you go to school for business?"
"For a year, but it wasn't what I wanted to do. Wharton was a little stiff for me."
"Wharton, as in Penn? As in Ivy League?"
Shrugging, he went back to searching for what he was looking for. "The same."
"And that was a little stiff for you?" I found the idea that anywhere was too stiff for him amusing.
He nodded. "College wasn't what I wanted."
"What did you want?" I asked, curious about the faraway sound in his voice now that hinted at a very different Tristan.
Ignoring my question, he turned the laptop in my direction and smiled that warm smile that could make me give up almost anything. "We'll deal with my penthouse first. The poker playing dogs picture isn't working out at all, so you'll need to come up with a something else."
I couldn't help but laugh, far louder than was likely proper. Just when I thought he was stiff and distant, he made a joke like that and changed the entire way I looked at him. "You didn't take me seriously about that, did you?"
Faking sincerity, he screwed his face into a grimace. "I wasn't supposed to? Those dogs cost me a fortune."
For a second, I thought he was serious, and then he winked at me. "Let's get going. Pick out what clothes you want to take and I'll have Rogers take care of it."
"Just like that?"
He closed his laptop, sat back in his chair, and folded his arms. "Just like that. I'll give you fifteen minutes."
I began walking toward my room and turned around, feeling playful. "And if I'm not done by then?"
Without missing a beat, he answered, "Then you'll spend your time at the penthouse naked, which also works for me."
He smiled again, and I relaxed a little more. "I never know when you're kidding, Tristan."
"I'm not kidding. As far as I'm concerned, you could never wear anything again and I'd be happy."
"But what about all those clothes you bought? That's a lot of money to waste, don't you think?" I asked, enjoying our verbal sparring.
He stood from his chair and walked toward me like a wild cat stalking prey. When he was only inches away from me, he stopped and lifted my chin with his finger and stared down into my eyes. "I'd spend ten times that to make you happy, Nina. Now go get ready or you're spending our time in the city as God made you."
It was nearly impossible to think about work when he was standing there looking like that and talking about me naked at his penthouse. I hurriedly chose a few outfits and laid them out on my bed before finding him waiting at the end of the hallway that led to my room.
"Ready?"
He'd asked me that right after we'd first met and just like then, I wasn't ready. Everything was moving so quickly that I wanted to stop, ask some questions, and get my bearings. But he never let that happen. It wasn't as if he was rushing me, really. It was more that he expected things to go as he had planned and there never was a moment where I wanted to risk asking what we were doing, afraid that if I did I'd ruin everything.
What woman wouldn't want a man like him to whisk her off her feet and take care of every issue that came up in life?