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“I’ll make you an omelet if that’s okay?” She yells through the house.
I wince and rub my temple. This is going to take some getting used to. The penthouse won’t be nearly as quiet with her here. I am going to miss that. But it’s all for my future. The future of the business. I nod as I remind myself and throw on some jeans and a t-shirt.
I come out to prep the dogs to see Amelia preparing for the omelets she has planned. She casts a questioning glance over her shoulder, and I realize I never answered her question.
“No, I’m fine,” I answer gruffly.
The dogs are nearly spinning in circles around me until I command them to sit and suit them up. I look back at Amelia before leaving, still unable to wrap my head around the fact that I have a woman in my apartment who is cooking breakfast in nothing but one of my shirts.
That’s how most of the day goes. Russell began Amelia’s training today per her request, despite me telling her she could have the day off. She apparently told him she wanted a distraction. Thankfully I learned of the change of plans before I came back to the penthouse for lunch. So I’m not surprised when I see the two sitting together, Amelia in a new set of clothes, surrounded by boxes labeled by the moving company.
The two of them are pouring over a schedule and a calendar. There’s a little notebook off to the side that has Amelia’s neat scrawl filling the pages. Charity and Jewel both greet me while the only other humans in the room seem so focused that they don’t even look up, despite the tapping of toenails on the hardwood floor.
I walk in and place my briefcase on the kitchen island before I begin to root around in the refrigerator for a quick lunch. I pull out the makings for a sandwich and slap it together. Only then do Russell and Amelia look up. Russell, being the stickler he is for polite greetings, immediately stands.
“Ah, sorry sir, I don’t know how I didn’t see you,” he bobs his head and fixes his suit jacket.
I wave him off before finishing my current bite of food. “Since when does that actually matter?”
My eyes switch to the woman who is still sitting, not even trying to greet me, and my mouth twitches in a smile. She is so different when in front of others, but now I notice the change my presence has caused, bringing out her cool, sassy nature. I almost prefer her this way. It’s less fake. I don’t like it when people fake things, my past and current life are full of lies and masks people hide behind. It’s boring and predictable.
“Apparently the movers did a good job?” I nod to the boxes spread out. “Is this all you have?”
It’s just three boxes. But she shakes her head and motions to her room just down the hall.
“No, most of my boxes are in there, but Russell suggested I put up some of my own stuff to make it homier,” she says. “He knows?”
I nod. “Russell has been my confidant for a while. He is probably the one trustworthy in my life that’s human.”
Amelia looks over at the older man who is still standing, but his back is straighter with pride. There is a soft look in her eyes, something affectionate, and I can see how much she trusts him as well. From what I’ve heard from Russell, he has been working with her for some time. He saw her potential and thought she would be a good replacement for him. Apparently, he was right. She is quite something, given her detailed notes.
I step closer to the coffee table where they are working and observe what they have spread out on it. Most of it pertains to my life and the hotel, things that she will be helping out with, or rather, taking over. My eyes skip over to her notes, but she quickly closes the notebook and I quirk an eyebrow. Obviously, she is a private person, which I can understand. But what does she have to hide from me in that booklet?
Russell leaves shortly after when Amelia tells him they have probably done enough work for the day, and he should take care of the hotel. I watch as I eat my lunch while the woman now living in my house moves around my dogs like she’s been here for years. She begins to open up boxes slowly and I start to see parts of her life.
Apparently, she collects spices. It puts my decently sized spice rack to shame, and she doesn’t even ask as she begins to add them and rearrange mine for more space. I won’t deny that my eye twitches in irritation.
She pauses when she finally finishes and I’m standing to pick up my briefcase. Despite my growing unease with her unusual comfort in my home, I’m happy I don’t have to entertain her. I’m perfectly capable of playing the accommodating host, I just have no desire to.
“We should work together to decorate the living room,” she says before I leave.
My hand freezes on the doorknob. “There is no need to decorate. I never have before.”
“Yes, but now you are married. I’m someone who likes having a house that looks lived in,” she nearly snaps.
I look over my shoulder at her and frown. “No one comes here other than Russell and now you. It doesn’t matter.”
“They’ve had no reason before. Married life is different. If they get suspicious…” she trails off.
“I’ll think about it,” I say before walking out of the penthouse.
I do think about it. I think about it between meetings and even during boring ones. I hate to admit it, but Amelia is likely right. My family aren’t people who just take things lying down. They will want to poke around. High society loves to gossip, and my stepbrother would love nothing more than to unearth the lie I am weaving.
When I arrive back in the evening, Amelia is in her pajamas, and it brings back memories of this morning. Practically naked with just that thin cotton shirt on. I can’t help imagining it, even as she sits innocently with the dogs on the leather couch. She has a book open on her lap and her lip caught between her teeth.
My gaze drags along her now covered legs, but I am brutally aware of how much I have seen of her body already. My cock twitches for the second time today, rising until it throbs in my pants, and I immediately know I need to go to the bathroom. I can only think about taking a shower and relieving this growing need.
The main bathroom I use is the one that services the whole house. It’s not like the master bedroom doesn’t have a shower of its own, but I’ve been alone for so long that most of the time it’s just easier to slip into this one. Plus, all my shower stuff is already there. I walk inside with a change of loungewear for the night, my mind running through scenarios despite how often I try to stop it. I turn on the shower and the sound of water surrounds me as soon as I step into the stone stall.
