Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
"Hi," she says as she glances at me. "Where would you like to eat this morning?"
"Just here. Thanks," I tell her, feeling just a little bit awkward. Does Brian really have a cook on staff?
“Very well.” She starts to load a plate with the breakfast food, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “My name is Mila. I’m Mr. Beckett’s housekeeper and occasional cook. He told me you’ll be staying here for a week or so. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
"Okay." I walk up beside her, grab my plate, and hop up onto the stool there at the breakfast bar.
Wow. Having live-in staff is a new level of wealth I didn’t think I’d ever encounter. I make sure to give her a polite smile, assuming it might be a bad idea to have her think ill of me.
The first bite of eggs is spectacular. They are creamy, cheesy, and perfect. It’s almost a shock to my system. It’s so much richer and more delicious than the basic groceries I’ve been buying for myself. I don’t even consider calories either. I'm eating it all.
The bacon is crisp. It's perfect with the eggs. If I wasn't horny for Brian, I could very well become aroused by this damn food.
Twenty minutes later, Brian's driver comes up.
"It was nice to meet you," I tell Mila as the driver comes into the room.
"Yes, yes," she responds. She still seems less than thrilled with her orders to babysit me. But Brian still must suspect something since he thinks my emails are a threat, so I guess he must have given his housekeeper instructions to take care of me.
Oh well. I might be annoyed, having to watch out for someone on short notice, but I’m determined to make her friendly with me if I’m going to be here for a week.
This thought gives me pause. When did I decide that it's totally okay to stay here in this luxurious penthouse with Brian Beckett for a week? Just last night, I was hesitating a bit, and now, I have no problem with it.
Somehow, he no longer wants me to deal with everything by myself as I usually have. It's not what I'm used to, but I can’t deny how it’s both liberating and comforting. My own mother is hardly around enough to come to my place, much less make me breakfast.
It doesn’t matter that he didn’t cook it himself. He still thought to have the food ready for me. That counts for something.
I head down the elevator with the silent driver, an older woman with steel gray hair. Sometime later, when the driver pulls up in front of my apartment, she says, "My name’s Greta, and I'll be picking you up in one hour for the spa. If you're a minute late, I will inform Mr. Beckett immediately. I hope you understand. He’s concerned for your safety."
There it is again, Brian using his staff to keep tabs on me. Maybe I should be alarmed or offended. I mean, I’m an adult after all. But I’ve also never had this much attention showered on me. And it’s just his way of making sure no one can harm me. "Very well, Greta. Thank you."
I decide not to waste time. I'm just as eager to get to the spa as I'm sure Greta is to drop me off. So I throw some clothes, underwear, pajamas, anything I might need for the next week into a suitcase. With the extra time I have, I pack some work outfits just in case and, at the last minute, add some makeup in too. I grab my purse, jewelry, and keys and lock the door behind me, rushing out to the elevator.
Taking a second to look back at my apartment building, I briefly worry that I’m being too rash and making a mistake. But then the memory of the man in all-black raising his hand towards me and the threatening email floats through my mind, and I know that I’m making the right call.
Plus…spending time with Brian has been incredible. I don’t want to give it up, at least not yet. This might be a week to remember.
The path my life is taking starts to change, and as the doors of the apartment building shut, I wonder how until now, I’ve never imagined falling in love. Can Brian really change that? I mean, maybe he already has.
When I walk out of my apartment, Brian's driver is parked at the curb. I slide into the car, and Greta starts driving. We sit in silence for a while before she finally speaks up.
"So. How does this make you feel?" she asks.
"What do you mean?" I furrow my brow, confused.
"He's twice your age," she tells me. "Don't you find it odd that he's suddenly so invested in your life?"