Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Chapter Five
Six days later, Mr. Bordeaux still hasn’t returned, and I can’t say I miss the man with all of his unbending rules. Embracing the solitude, I’ve excelled at scrubbing floors, dusting antiques and jewels that would feed a starving nation, and learning which knives to use for which vegetables—and which ones to avoid if I don’t want to cut myself again.
My role in the House of Taurus is little more than a maid without compensation, but I don’t mind the busy work. The meal prep and house cleaning keep me distracted, and though I’ve never scrubbed a toilet a day in my life, doing so now gives me a sense of calmness, left alone to the task with no one to answer to but the gleaming porcelain beneath my hands.
“You’re quite the quick study.”
At the sound of Mr. Bordeaux’s voice, I scramble into position on my knees, bleach-scented palms facing up on my thighs. The cutoff jeans I put on for chores are frayed, pockets peeking out beneath my hands. They were among the few belongings he allowed Liam to send. My keeper chose to put the rest of my clothing collection in storage until the next man in charge decides whether to give my things to me.
“Loren says you’ve been settling in well during my absence. I’ve been pleased with his progress reports on your behavior.” As he steps into the main guest bathroom, his shiny black shoes coming into view, I remain silent. “When I praise you, my queen, I expect you to respond.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bordeaux.”
“You’re welcome.” He leans down and runs a hand over my tangled locks. “You need to shower and dress for company. Come to the great room in twenty minutes.” Without another word, he pivots and disappears into the hall.
Bewildered by his abrupt summons, I abandon the task, tossing the sudsy sponge into the trashcan, and hurry into my private bath, where I take a five-minute shower before pulling on a black linen dress. By the time I walk into the great room with three minutes to spare, damp hair braided on the side, my heart rate is pumping double time because his “company” can’t be a good thing.
But then my eyes meet Liam’s from across the room, and my pulse speeds up for a different reason. I freeze for a few seconds until the sight of Mr. Bordeaux, standing tall at Liam’s side, sends me to my knees.
My stoic keeper holds up a hand, halting my descent to the floor. “The chancellor is here to join us for lunch. He’s requested you not kneel during his visit.”
Liam doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “I also ask that you allow her freedom of speech.”
“That isn’t necessary, Chancellor. We have important matters to discuss and don’t need the distraction of a woman’s inconsequential chatter.”
I bite back a retort, knowing he’ll only punish me for my “sharp” tongue, and I’m not fond of the taste of rubber. Though part of me wants to know how it’s possible for a woman to have a sharp tongue while being prone to mindless chatter. The two aren’t complementary traits.
“Shall we?” Mr. Bordeaux says, gesturing for the chancellor to precede him into the formal dining room. I follow on their tail, and after the three of us take our seats, Liam across from me and Mr. Bordeaux at the head of the table, Loren appears with the fresh greens I prepped an hour ago. His stare is discreet as he piles lettuce and salad toppings onto each of our plates, but I detect a hint of speculation in his gray eyes.
I’ve only been a subject of Mr. Bordeaux’s for a week, most of which he spent away on business, but sitting in a chair next to him during mealtime—instead of eating with Loren in the kitchen—feels foreign and somehow wrong. If it weren’t for Liam’s presence, I’d rather be in the kitchen with Loren.
“You said you wanted to discuss the Heart of the Queen,” Mr. Bordeaux says, breaking the silence as I pick at the leafy greens on my plate.
“Yes.” Liam darts his gaze in my direction. “I’m ready to sell.”
I have no idea what they’re talking about. My attention swings to Mr. Bordeaux as he takes a sip of wine, the motion nonchalant except for the harsh grip of his fingers on the glass.
“You surprise me, Chancellor.” He sets the wineglass down, tongue darting across his lower lip. “What changed your mind?”
“I guess you can say my priorities have shifted.” Liam’s answer draws my gaze back to him. “I’ll accept your previous offer if you grant me weekly chess sessions with Novalee.”
“You’re willing to part with the Heart of the Queen for a few games of chess?” Skepticism laces Mr. Bordeaux’s tone.
“Yes, along with the twenty million you agreed to pay the last time you put the offer on the table.”