Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I get a barrage of instant replies with variations on “yes we understand and won’t fuck this up again.”
Satisfied, I put my phone away as the door to the bathroom opens.
I stare.
I told her she could use the items in the bathroom but had no idea she could… would… transform like this with no more than some toiletries and a hairbrush.
Her thick blonde hair’s pulled into a braid that hangs casually over her shoulder. Though she wears no makeup, her complexion is perfect, her skin bright with pink-tinged cheeks and the faintest dotting of freckles across her nose. Beautiful, thick lashes behind her glasses frame wide, trusting eyes, and her lips tip upward in a smile.
“Now that is what I call a bathroom,” she says, jerking her thumb behind her. “That’s amazing. Luxurious. Well done! Now, where’s the kitchen, boss? I am so ready to get to work.”
“You mean eat breakfast,” I say huskily. I turn away from her abruptly and yank open the door. She can’t call me boss. Everyone calls me boss, and she’s not everyone else.
“This way.”
I stalk ahead of her, furious at myself for getting anything in my head at all about this woman. If she were anyone else, I would’ve kicked her out and made it damn clear she wasn’t to come back. And now I’m offering her a job?
I don’t know shit about her. All I know for sure is that anyone as pure as Eden isn’t good for me.
I’d break her.
A team of staff scurries out of my way as we walk, but I don’t miss the curious glances. Eden looks nothing like anyone I’ve ever met, much less like someone who belongs here, and I probably look like I’m pissed with her.
Eden walks to the narrow area where we have aprons hanging on hooks and quickly dons one. She swings her braid over her shoulder and gives me an eager look. Based on what she’s told me she’s good at, I’m going to predict this woman is one hell of a hard worker.
“You look ready to work, but I said we eat first.” I point to a stool by the counter. “Sit.”
For the first time, she hesitates before obeying me.
“I can wait to eat,” she says slowly, as if carefully selecting her words. “I trespassed, Sergio. I shouldn’t have stayed in that room without asking you, and I know it. Let me pay you back.”
I give her a hard look. “You will, but you’re no use to me if you faint on the job.”
This makes her smile. “Oh, I can go a lot longer than that without eating. I’ve gone for days…” As soon as she says it, she looks as if she wants to take the words back.
I, on the other hand, would like her to keep speaking. What the fuck is that about? “Days? Why’s that?”
When she clamps her mouth shut, I want to shake her.
“Eden.”
“My parents were strict,” is all she says.
There’s something eerily not right about this picture. Something not right at all.
“I see.” I blow out a breath. “So were mine.” My mother preferred the broom closet and my father his belt, though neither favored starvation. I mean, we’re Italian. We like our food. It probably seemed like cruel and unusual punishment to take it away.
I grumble at her. I don’t remember the last time I had to tell someone to do something twice. “Now sit.”
“With all due respect, Sergio, I have some pride.”
She did not just talk back to me.
She did.
I stare at her, abashed. Half a minute ago she was all yes, sir, and quiet as a church mouse, but this woman has a fucking spine.
She doesn’t know who I am, I remind myself. She has no idea.
Is she the first woman I’ve met that doesn’t?
Out of sheer curiosity, I let her continue.
Taking in a deep breath, she lets it out and gives me a patient look. “I know I should not have been in that room. You have every right to call the police. It was trespassing. I’m uncomfortable knowing I owe you, so I’m going to cook before I eat. I promise, I won’t faint like a wilting flower.”
I’m a little surprised she has the nerve to talk back to me. To tell me what she’s going to do. Most people aren’t ballsy enough.
Everyone obeys me. Everyone. Not only does my entire staff of five dozen, an entire army of Montavio family made men, and my entire family obey me, I’ve got the chief of police, Monsignor at the Cathedral, and the mayor in my pocket.
There’s a flash of defiance in her eyes while she holds my gaze. I wait for her to obey me, to overcome the resistance and cave.
She doesn’t.
And holy hell if the thought of dominating this woman, of earning the inherent trust a relationship with someone like her would take—