Chapt. 8

"What can I get you?" Mason inquired even though he had just half a bottle of whiskey which he ordered the previous night and a bottle of water.

"The blueprints," her voice was as rough as an unindustrialized maple timber.

"Yeah, right. Let me get dressed and get back to you," he scurried to the king-sized bed where his clothes laid and tucked into his trousers while eyeing Louisa. Her gaze pretentiously roamed to other room furniture with a plastered flush on both cheeks.

"Here," he forwarded a blueprint to her, "that's the new design corresponding to today's modifications; the kitchen, master's room, and living room as you know it." She meticulously examined the design looking more beautiful than ever in the colorful African print she was in. Each shade complimented her in one way or the order.

"It took me quite some time to ana—"

"Well, thank you, Mr. Donovan," she cut him off and vacated the sofa. "I must confess, I'm very much impressed by your effectiveness. Have a good ni