I can’t help but notice there’s no maid around. Maybe she’s off in the evening?
“Is it just the two of us here?” As the question slips out, I feel my nipples grow hard as I get the feeling it is just us here... shit, why does he have to be this attractive? Why couldn’t my father’s client tonight look like every other client of his that I’ve run into; overweight, a smoker, and highly creepy.
“Why, what’s on your mind?” I hear the words slip comfortably from his lips and I feel myself blush, feeling as if he’s insinuating something… but that’s not exactly why I had asked.
I roll my eyes but keep silent to his question. He couldn’t manage to answer my question so why should I bother to do so back.
“Alright, so are you ready to go over your daily chores now that you’re living with me?” He smirks, and begins walking toward the kitchen as if my answer isn’t of any concern to him. I roll my eyes at his back and quickly follow behind, letting him lead the way.
The feel of the kitchen makes me even more comfortable; it’s quite similar to my kitchen at home. There’s a thick, wooden breakfast bar in the middle of the room, plus a dishwasher tucked in the counter with a double sink supported on top. I don’t see the pots and pans at a quick glance; I’m sure they’ll be easy to find. It’s not like I’ll be doing any cooking anyhow. I barely have made a bowl of cereal, let alone a full-course meal.
“You’re to cook dinner every night.”
At the sound of those words, my eyes grow wide. How is he reading my thoughts? How does he not know what kind of girl he brought home?
“I-I don’t know how to cook,” I stutter, toying with my thumbs in a circular motion as I begin to feel nervous that I may be a disappointment. But why should I care anyhow?
“Well, you will certainly need to learn.” He states as if I have no room to argue. I remind myself of our talk in the car earlier. Now’s probably not the time to combat his silly requests.
I manage to nod my head in response, and he gives me a firm, almost satisfied look before turning to show me the organization of the room, and showing me the pots and pans. I guess I do need to know where these bad boys are considering how I’m a cook now too.
I’m really not sure how this will all play out.
“Dishes are washed and put away after dinner each night. There’s no excuse as to why a dish goes uncleaned, especially overnight. After you have completed the cleanup portion, I will have you bring me up a cup of tea to my bedroom.” He tells me, and I feel myself now growing hotter for him as I think of being in this man’s bedroom. Get it together, Liza. This guy is the worst, that’s clear. I shouldn’t feel so much as a glimpse of lust for him, but yet, I think I do…
“You drink tea?” I ask. I definitely didn’t peg a man of his statue to drink tea before bed.
“You heard correctly, with two spoonfuls of whiskey,” he orders, straight face as can be.
Fine. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes just so long as it means I get to be away from home.
“I will take my massage every night before bed. In fact, I’ve hired a masseur, but since you have no income funneling your way from your father, it seems you’ll work for your pay here, and to my service.” He points out.
The thought of giving him a massage wallows in my mind. The way he’s looking at me, that silly grin on his face; I can tell he’s enjoying every second of this.
“I don’t know if my father would be too fond of that.” I shake my head, biting back down my lip.
Why did I feel the need to bring my father up? It’s not like he would know anyway and plus, I kind of want to feel him. I’ve never been so close to someone of his size or age, but hey, why does that matter? It’s not like anything will come from this, right?
“What your father doesn’t know, surely won’t kill him.” He winks at me, and I feel the heat rising in my face.
I’m looking for any out from this conversation.
“So, what’s on the menu tonight? I need time to prep dinner considering this is my first time, uh, cooking.” It’s the best I could come up with.
I can’t get over how handsome Bruno is. He makes me feel uncomfortable under his stare and I don’t know why. I’m sure he’s built like a tank under that suit that’s containing his sculpted muscles popping through his white button-down. Just wait and see, I won’t be running back to my father. Not today, and sure as hell not anytime in the foreseeable future. I may just get used to this new arrangement.
“I think we should start with something simple,” he answers. “We’ll do spaghetti for dinner tonight. I’m going to have to cook the meat since I don’t believe it’d be wise for you to try on your first time.” He tells me, walking over to the fridge.
I remain glued in my spot. I don’t know where to begin.
“Did I stutter? Get the pan, and get started.” He orders with not a hint of a smile.
Damn, impatient are we?
I quickly follow to do as he says. I never even hurry for my father, but this is different on so many levels. It’s like I feel a need to please this man.
I turn on the stove, at least I can do that much without direction. I’m not an idiot as my father so hastily would like to think.