Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
I hesitate. “Bye,” I say, reluctant to leave her.
* * *
“Bye,” Alessia whispers, and she watches him follow Caroline out of the kitchen.
Sister-in-law?
She hears the front door close.
Sister-in-law.
Kunata.
As she returns to the ironing, she says the words out loud in English and Albanian, and the sound and meaning make her smile. But it’s odd that his sister-in-law should be here, wearing his clothes. Alessia shrugs. She’s seen enough American TV shows to know that relationships between men and women are different in the West.
Later she strips the bed in the spare room. It’s modern and chic and white like the rest of the apartment, but the most pleasing aspect of it is that it’s been used. With a relieved grin, she collects more white bedding from the linen closet and remakes the bed.
Since meeting Caroline, one thought has plagued Alessia. In the Mister’s bedroom, she has the chance to satisfy her curiosity. She wraps her arms around herself and approaches the wastebasket with caution. Taking a deep breath, she peeks in.
She grins.
No condoms.
Alessia goes about cleaning and tidying his bedroom with a little of the joy she’d felt earlier that morning.
* * *
“Is it her?” Caroline asks.
“What?” I scoff as we sit in a cab on the way to the King’s Road.
“Your daily.”
Shit.
“What about my daily?”
“Is it her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Caroline crosses her arms. “That’s not a no.”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” I stare out at the drab Chelsea streets through the cab’s steamed-up window as I feel a flush creep up my neck, betraying me.
How did I give myself away?
“I’ve never seen you so solicitous with your staff.”
I scowl at her. “Speaking of staff,” I say, “was it Mrs. Blake who organized Krystyna for me?”
“I think it was. Why?”
“Well, I was a little surprised that she upped and left without so much as a good-bye and Miss Albania took her place. No one told me.”
“Maxim, if you don’t like the girl, get rid of her.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Well, you’re acting pretty bloody weird about her.”
“No I’m not.”
“Whatever, Maxim.” Caroline’s mouth presses into a hard line as she folds her arms and stares out the misting cab window, leaving me to my own thoughts.
What I really want is information about Alessia Demachi. I process what I know. Fact one, she’s Albanian, not Polish. I know very little about Albania. What brings her to the UK? How old is she? Where does she live? Does she travel far each morning? Does she live alone?
I could follow her home.
Stalker!
I could ask her.
Fact two, Alessia is reluctant to talk. Or is she reluctant to talk to me? The thought is depressing, and I stare at the rain-lashed streets, sulking like a needy adolescent.
Why does this woman confound me?
Is it that she’s so mysterious?
That she’s from a completely different background to me?
The fact that she works for me?
That makes her off-limits.
Fuck.
The truth is, I want to bed her. There. I admit it to myself. That’s what I want, and I have a severe case of blue balls to prove it. What’s more, I don’t know how to make that happen, especially as she won’t talk to me. She won’t even look at me.
Does she find me repellent?
Maybe that’s it. She just doesn’t like me.
Hell, I don’t know what she thinks of me. I’m very much at a disadvantage. For all I know, she could be rummaging through my belongings right now, learning more about me. Figuring me out. I grimace. Maybe that’s why she dislikes me.
“She seems terrified of you,” Caroline observes.
“Who?” I ask, though I know full well who she’s talking about.
“Alessia.”
“I’m her boss.”
“You’re awfully touchy about her. I think she’s terrified because she’s crazy about you.”
“What? Now you’re hallucinating. She can barely stand to be in the same room as me.”
“QED.” Caroline shrugs.
I frown at her.
She sighs. “She can’t be in the same room as you because she likes you and doesn’t want to give herself away.”
“Caro, she’s my daily. That’s all.” I’m emphatic, and it’s an effort to throw Caroline off the scent, though this gives me hope. She smirks as the cab pulls up outside Bluebird. I hand the cabdriver a twenty, ignoring Caroline’s look.
“Keep the change,” I tell him as we climb out of the cab.
“That’s an excessive tip,” Caroline grumbles. I say nothing, too lost in thoughts of Alessia Demachi, and hold the door of the café open for her.
“So your mother thinks I should pick myself up by my bootstraps and get back to work?” Caroline says as we’re led to our table.
“She thinks you’re very talented and that working on the Mayfair development will be a welcome diversion.”
Caroline presses her lips together. “I think I need time,” she whispers, and her eyes dim with sadness.
“I understand.”
“We only buried him two weeks ago.” She pulls Kit’s sweater up to her nose and inhales.