Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
There she is.
At my maid’s smart mouth, Eileen released a tiny gasp, turning to glance between us.
I stopped at the junction between the dining room and the guest wing, my eyes still pinned on my new housekeeper. “It’s Mr. Sun to you.”
Farrow slumped against the wall and blew a lock of hair from her eye, appraising me and Eileen.
No part of her seemed ashamed or distressed at being seen like this. At our feet. Scrubbing my floor to high shine.
She inclined her chin and offered a toothy grin directed at Eileen. “Did he tell you he sucks at Go?”
From her lips, it sounded just as Mom had suspected—like Go was code for something else, and she’d just accused me of being bad in bed.
Eileen’s brows shot to her hairline, her slender fingers kissing her collarbone. “Are you going to let her talk to you like this?”
“Hope not.” Farrow picked up her rag and resumed scrubbing. “My wet dream is to have him fire me.”
Astonishingly, I found myself wanting to be part of her wet dreams.
In fact, I was hard-pressed to conjure something I wanted more than to watch her with her legs spread open, buck naked, showing me how wet she was.
I’d officially lost it. Sailed deep into murky, unchartered waters with these foreign thoughts and unchecked desires.
A speck of dirty water splashed from the rag onto my bare toe with her thorough scrub. My eyelid twitched.
She batted her lashes, awarding us an angelic smile. “Not to be confused with him firing at me. Because he did that, too. Did he tell you he likes throwing knives?”
I was going to kill her.
But first, I was going to fuck her.
Because—and this was important—for whatever unknown reason, she seemed to be the only woman I could even contemplate being intimate with.
In fact, I discovered, I hadn’t stopped thinking about her face. Her body. Her derisive smile. The way she moved on the piste. Like Tinker Bell if she were an assassin.
So lethal and so soft at the same time.
Eileen jerked a step back, spinning her head to me. “You own a throwing knife?”
“Some antique blades.” I shot Farrow a withering look. “As part of my art collection.”
“He owns a tank, too.” Farrow grinned, obviously enjoying herself. “It’s the only thing he drives. G.I. Jerk.”
“It’s not a tank. It’s a Conquest Knight XV.”
“It’s made from aluminum.” Farrow cackled, clutching her stomach, not caring that she’d just added another dirt stain to her shirt. “I took it for a spin, by the way. He really shouldn’t leave his keys where everyone can see them.”
I bet she did.
And I didn’t know why, but it uplifted my mood to know she’d misbehaved.
“Anyway, I see you two have a lot to catch up on.” Farrow put two fingers to her forehead, saluting us. “Have fun, kids. I’ll leave you to it.”
Eileen frowned, palm tightening around the nape of her neck, clearly unimpressed with the verbal battle I’d gotten myself into with the help.
“Sorry about that.” I gestured for Eileen to continue up the stairs. “A pair of hikers found her in the woods just five years ago. She was raised by wild coyotes and grew up thinking she was one of them. I agreed to hire her as part of a rehabilitation program that focuses on integrating low-IQ individuals into society.”
“Interesting. Only five years ago.” Eileen shadowed my steps, swiping at her suit as if she could brush away the encounter with my feral octopus. “Her command of the English language is immaculate.”
We climbed the curved staircase to the soundtrack of Farrow’s bell-chime giggles. They echoed down the cavernous foyer, amplified by the sheer size of the mansion.
Up until now, I’d never considered my home to be too big.
“Her English is fine.” I led her to the opposite hall from my office. “It’s the content spilling from her mouth I take issue with.”
“You seem to share good chemistry.”
“Hardly.”
The only chemistry we shared was radioactive. Farrow and I were two corrosive elements, bound to blow up in spectacular fashion, but I always did like science.
Eileen followed me into my bedroom closet, stopping just shy of the safe.
True to her mannered upbringing, she turned to grant me privacy while I punched in the twenty-two-digit combination and withdrew the imperial-jade necklace my mother lent her.
It wasn’t lost on me that Farrow would not only watch me enter the code but also memorize it to use at a later date.
The two women couldn’t be any more different.
And for some wild, incomprehensible reason, I preferred the one with the manners of a starving bear.
I deposited the engraved case on the closet island between us. The recessed lights casted cold, blue shadows over Eileen.
When I looked at her beneath them, not a hair out of place, tidy, stylish, and deliberate, I knew there was no way I’d ever be able to touch her—with or without Farrow’s help.