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But Dimitri is staring at me with those stunning amber eyes, one brow raised in a challenge. I can’t just walk away — not when this man is practically handing me a blank check. I should at least see what he’s willing to pay me. For market research, of course . . .
Clicking my pen, I take a deep breath and write down a number. It’s crazy high compared to what I’d planned on charging him, but he just told me money was not an issue.
My hand is sweaty as I hand it over, second-guessing my quote the instant Dimitri’s long tanned fingers close around the paper.
He barely glances at what I’ve written before looking at me in confusion. “This is your daily rate?”
“The top number is the price for the initial deep clean. The bottom number is the cost for weekly upkeep.”
He shakes his head. “I need a live-in housekeeper.”
For a moment, I just stare at him. No one has a live-in maid anymore. It’s so uncommon I don’t even have pricing for it. It’s certainly not something I’d ever consider.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But that’s not something we currently offer.”
“I thought you said you could provide a full-service experience,” Dimitri counters.
“We can — I mean, we do.” I pause, chewing on my bottom lip as I try to figure out what to say. “But I can’t live here.”
Dimitri raises his eyebrows in a mixture of surprise and indignation. “Are you married?”
“No,” I grit out, annoyed that he would even ask.
Something like amusement dances in his eyes. “Kids?”
“No.”
“May I?” Dimitri holds out a hand for my pen, and I give it to him. He scoots to the very edge of his chair, and I watch his muscular forearm flex as he crosses out my bottom number and writes down another.
“I can offer you Saturdays off and three weeks of paid vacation per year,” he says, flipping the paper around so that it faces me.
I blink twice, staring at the number without comprehending it.
“Is that sufficient for your weekly salary?”
“Weekly?” I choke, not even caring that I sound incredulous. That’s more money than I’ve earned in six months at previous jobs, and Dimitri wants to pay me that much for a week’s worth of work?
My chest swells with fresh excitement. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined landing a job that paid this well. And, if I was living here, I wouldn’t have to pay for rent or utilities.
My heart skips a beat at the thought of living under Dimitri’s roof — breathing the same air as this man. He’s sexy and mysterious and totally off-limits. I’ve never been one to shit where I eat, and I don’t intend to start now.
My body deflates a little at that, but I try to refocus on his offer. If I spent six months working for Dimitri, I could save up enough to pay three maids’ salaries for a year and then some. I could purchase two more vans — my very own fleet — and get this business off the ground.
It sounds way too good to be true, and a tiny voice in my head tells me that it probably is. Nobody pays this sort of money for a live-in maid. There has to be a catch.
“You understand that I’m just a housekeeper,” I say, pointedly arching one eyebrow and praying that he understands my meaning.
Dimitri tilts his head to the side, those perfect lips pursing as he studies me with those stunning amber eyes. “I thought you were the owner of the company.”
“I am,” I say quickly, feeling flustered and off my game. What is it with this man? He’s clearly a slob and into something illegal, and yet I can’t stop myself from imagining what his bottom lip would feel like caught between my teeth. “I-I just mean . . .” I gesture in the air with my hand, hoping he’s not going to make me spell it out. “You understand I’m only going to be cleaning and doing your laundry.”
Those sultry lips lift in a grin, and I shiver as he leans in closer, propping both elbows on his knees. That spicy burnt-cedar scent surrounds me like a cloud of smoke, and my eyes dart automatically to the broad expanse of bare chest peeking out from under his shirt. “Why, Ms. Navarro. What else would you be doing?”
Chapter Four
Dimitri
The moment Jules walks out of my home, I know I’ve made a huge mistake. Her intoxicating cinnamon scent is all around me — in the hallway, the living room, the study. It’s drawn my wolf to the surface, and my skin itches with the urge to shift.
