I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Come in then,” I said. “I can tell you’re dying to know.”
He quickly slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. Out of all the people in my employ, Todd was the only one brave enough to be candid with me. Out of everyone, I liked him the best. Whether it was because of that, or despite it, I wasn’t always sure.
“You two seemed like you knew each other,” he said, as he approached my desk. “And why the sudden disappearance? I thought you wanted creative control over the renovations.”
I took off my reading glasses and sighed. “I barely know her at all,” I said. “However, we did fuck a couple of nights ago.”
“Are you kidding me?” Todd asked. His lips flattened.
“Oh, don’t look so disappointed,” I replied. “It’s not like I knew she’d be showing up here all doe-eyed come Monday morning.”
Todd rolled his eyes. It was a gesture I almost never saw him make. “Okay, then what are you going to do about it?”
“It hardly seems fair to fire her.”
“Who said anything about firing her?”
I shrugged. “Being in the same room with her is awkward.”
Not completely a lie, but certainly an understatement.
“So you’re going to retreat here, to your office, just because she’s seen you naked?”
“She hasn’t seen me naked,” I said. Not completely, anyway.
Todd looked confused by that for a moment, even opening his mouth to say something, but then he stopped and just shrugged. He was obviously used to my antics by now. It took a lot to really surprise him.
“And no,” I continued. “I’m taking a step back in all of this because you’ve been going on about this renovation for months. Maybe you’re right to think drastic measures are needed to bring this place up to the present. It might be easier if I wasn’t so deeply involved in every decision. You know what I want.”
“Wow. If I’d known all it would take to get you to back down a little was to bring in a girl you’d slept with, I would have put up the job posting outside of your bedroom door,” he replied with a smug grin.
“Oh, shut up.” I waved him away. “Go polish the silverware, or whatever it is you do in your spare time.”
“I’m on my way home,” he replied, ignoring my allusion to him being a butler. He hated when people referred to him as my butler.
“Even better.”
Todd chuckled and strolled back toward the door. “I think you’ll be happy with her work. She’s got some great ideas.”
I paused, halfway to putting my glasses back on. “I still get creative veto, though,” I reminded. “Make sure she knows that.”
“Of course, sir,” he said, with an exaggerated nod. “You’re the boss.”
I waited to smile until he’d closed the door behind him.
7
Elizabeth
The situation couldn’t have been more tragicomic if the Bard himself had written it in verse. What was supposed to be a good memory to grow old with was now tainted.
The man who’d given me the best, most exciting and thrilling sexual experience of my life was now my boss!
The tip of my pencil broke and I cursed. It was the third one today. Either I’d purchased the world’s crappiest pencils, or I was pressing way too hard.
“Everything alright?” Todd asked.
I looked up at him from the kitchen table. “Sort of.“
I must have looked like a mess with my hair in a sloppy bun on the top of my head and a halo of loose hairs framing my face.
“You look like you’ve had a busy first week,” he noted.
I summoned up a smile. “I spent all day tagging along with the inspector.”
“I saw.” He gave me a mysterious smile. “They write reports, you know,” he said. “I think they even bind them and everything.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. “But I wanted to check what parts of the mansion would need to be dealt with first.” I pointed to the blueprint unrolled on the table in front of me. Its curved edges were being held in place by the sample tiles my friend Harry had brought from his hardware store.
Todd stepped over to the table, cocking his head to examine the post-it notes I’d affixed to the blueprint. “What am I seeing here?”
I took him through the few structural instabilities and code violations the inspector found, as well as the areas he’d suggested I reinforce if I wanted to extend the library.
“I could have worked on the designs while I waited for the report,” I said, “but I wanted to get a good idea for myself what the priority areas are so I can communicate better with the contractors.”
“Very good.” His eyes tracked from note to note. “Looks like it’s going to be a lot of work. Perhaps more than I anticipated.”
I shifted in my seat.
Please don’t fire me.
“Well it’s an old house,” I said. “And though the main rooms have had repairs done to them over the years, lots of the lesser used rooms are in pretty poor condition.”
Todd was silent, as if assessing whether I was simply trying to fleece him out of more money. This was my first job. I wanted to do it right—even if it meant doing a little more work than originally intended. And I was ready to fight for that principle.
“Good,” Todd said finally. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, brushing back the hair from my face. “I have.”
“Carry on then.” He turned to leave and I remembered the problem I’d been thinking about before he walked up. Well, one of the problems, anyway.
“Wait,” I called, rising to my feet. I pointed to the ceramic on the furthest corner of the blueprint. “I want to use this tile for the kitchen. What do you think?”
Todd glanced at it, but didn’t move back to the table. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Bentley,” he said. “It’s not my place to decide.”
I scowled. “Mr. Bentley’s been locked up in his study all day.” As he has been every day since I started, pretty much. “I don’t think he’ll appreciate me barging in.”
In truth, I was scared of him. Scared of what he would do. Scared of what he wouldn’t do. I had it in my head that we’d experienced something special together, but ever since he’d been acting as if he barely even remembered me. It hurt.
“Wait until tomorrow then,” Todd suggested. “By the looks of things, it’ll be awhile until you lay any flooring down.”
My scowl deepened into a grimace. I didn’t have the energy to wipe my expressions for the sake of propriety.
“They’re special order and I’m getting a great deal on them,” I replied. “But Harry needs my decision today.”
“Harry?”
“You know Big Al’s Hardware in town?”
Todd nodded.
“Harry is little Al. He’s a friend.”
“Ah. How nice.” He pressed his lips together. “Well I’m afraid you’ll still need to ask Mr. Bentley. He might want to use his creative veto.”
Ah, yes. Oliver’s creative veto. I found it annoying that he’d apparently made a big deal about having the ability to say no to anything he wanted, but couldn’t be bothered to come look at the design himself, nor had he made himself available to ask questions.
“Thanks,” I said. “I guess I’ll just have to assert myself.”
Todd nodded approvingly. “Remember what I said, Ms. Paulson.” He turned and exited the kitchen, his words trailing after him. “He’s a difficult man and requires a certain touch.”
A shiver ran through me as I recalled exactly what kind of touch he liked.
I arrived at the study door a few minutes later, after stopping off in the bathroom to readjust my hair and wipe the makeup from under my eyes. The door was still closed, as expected, but I wasn’t leaving until I had a decision one way or the other.
I knocked on the heavy oak awkwardly with my left hand, as my right was holding
two sample tiles and swatches for potential matching countertop and paint. I had no idea when I’d next get a chance to talk to him, so I was prepared.
Professionally, anyway.
If I didn’t know he was in there, I might have thought the study was empty. There were no sounds of movement and he didn’t call out in response. But he’d been in there all day.
Great. So not only he is he pretending nothing had ever happened between us, but now he was hiding from me as well?
Somehow that made it hurt even more.
Still, I soldiered on, knocking again.
And again, silence.
“Mr. Bentley?” I called out.
I winced at the formal appellation. Only a week ago we’d been on very familiar terms.
Frustrated, I knocked again. “Mr. Bentley!”
Stomping footsteps approached the door. I took a step back, wondering if maybe I’d overstepped. But no, if he wanted creative control, he needed to be available to me.
The door swung open and Oliver towered above me, eyebrows knitted in consternation. “What is wrong with you?” he asked. “Are you trying to sell me cookies or something?”
His ruffled hair and rolled up sleeves gave the impression he’d been at work on something. But what? I learned about as much about Oliver while working for him than I’d learned by having sex with him, which was just about nothing.
There were oval shaped marks on the bridge of his nose. Did he wear glasses?
“I have to put my tile order in by six,” I said, ignoring his snarky comment. I thrust my samples toward him. “Should we sit down so I can show you what this is going to look like?”
Oliver looked at me blankly. “Are you serious?”
I nodded slowly. Was he serious? I couldn’t reconcile the memory of the man I’d met at Repeat with this asshole. He’d steadfastly ignored me since I got here, and now he was being downright rude.
I squared my shoulders. “Of course I’m serious,” I said. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
He rolled his eyes and closed the door in my face.
My mouth dropped open in an outraged gasp. I knocked again, harder this time. “Mr. Bentley!”
His muffled response filtered through the door. “Go away, woman! I’m clearly busy!”
I gritted my teeth. If my life were a cartoon, there would be steam bursting out my ears. The nerve of him! The disrespect! I turned on my heel and stomped back to the kitchen. I was tempted to throw the samples down on the table, but it wasn’t their fault he was a huge dick.
Why was he being like this? The only thing that made sense was that he was always like this, and it was the Oliver I’d met at the club that had been the act. One designed simply to get into my pants.
How many times had that worked? How many women had he closed down the VIP room for before me? The memory was now completely ruined, and I mentally screwed it up into a ball and tossed it into the furthest depths of my mind.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes but I blinked them back. He wasn’t worth tears. He had all the money in the world, but he wasn’t worth anything. It was time I got my head around the fact that this was just a job. I needed to just get it done and move on. If Oliver wanted to forget about me then fine, as soon as this job was done I would forget about him. Maybe sooner. I was basically working for Todd now anyway.
Still, the tile choice was risky. I’d chosen a bold color and it would be an expensive fix if I laid it and Oliver ended up hating it. The safer option would be to put down a neutral stone or a stone-finished ceramic, but in my heart that didn’t feel right.
As much of a jerk as my boss was being, I was already way too invested in this project. I actually really liked this house and I had big plans for it. I didn’t want to make concessions because Oliver was being difficult. Todd had told me I would need to stand my ground against him, and I was going to stand my goddamn ground.
I called up Harry and spent the first couple thousand dollars of my budget. And it felt good.
8
Oliver
Bzzt bzzt!
Bzzt bzzt!
Bzzzzzt!
I removed my glasses and tossed them across the desk. They skittered to the edge and toppled off. I cursed.
When would this godawful racket end? Less than two weeks ago I’d had a kitchen. Now I had endless, droning noise.
With a heavy sigh, I rose from my chair and headed out into the hall. Without the barrier of my closed study door, the noises were even louder. People talking, hammering, drilling… It was incessant. It was annoying. And it was all her fault.
In the kitchen, Elizabeth was looking over a piece of paper on the kitchen table. A man roughly the size of a small house leaned over her, nodding and laughing. She was laughing too. She looked stunning when she laughed, her reddish hair spilling into her face, cheeks pink. I remember her looking like that as she rode me and I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t tell whether it was from arousal or jealousy.
I decided it was neither.
“Elizabeth!” I bellowed over the noise.
Her attention darted to me. So did that of the hulking monstrosity beside her. He rose up to his full height and crossed his arms, staring at me. I didn’t care. I wasn’t afraid of him, much as he might be trying to intimidate me.
Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, murmured something to the man, and strode toward me. “Yes, Mr. Bentley?”
She looked up at me through her eyelashes. Innocent.
How badly I wanted to change that. Finish the work I’d started.
“Why are there a thousand goddamn contractors in the kitchen?” I asked, gesturing to where men and women seemed to occupy every surface. The old tile had been ripped up and the plywood underneath was covered in dust and debris from their work.
“Uh, it’s kind of my personal Schlieffen Plan,” she replied.
“Schlieffen Plan?”
She grimaced. “It was a tactic the Germans planned to use to win the First World War,” she explained. “Use all resources to finish one area quickly, then divide up to take on the larger work.”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “I think you’ll have to explain that a little further.”
I was familiar with the Schlieffen Plan. Since the Germans calculated that their Western neighbor, France, would mobilize faster than their eastern neighbor, Russia, the plan was to quickly take over France and then move the majority of their forces back east to take on Russia.
I just didn’t see how it applied to my goddamn kitchen.
“I’ve got a pretty standard home reno crew in my employ,” Elizabeth explained. “But if I spread them all out evenly, it’ll take longer to complete each room. So I’m concentrating them on priority rooms first before I spread them to the rest of the manor.”
“So what you’re saying is my kitchen is France?” I deadpanned.
She nodded.
I didn’t hate the idea. It meant that the kitchen would be fully functional again in a matter of a few more days instead of a few more weeks. But it was goddamn noisy.
I scanned the room, taking in the carnage. Then I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “What the hell are they putting on the wall?”
She turned to follow my gaze. “Those are the cabinets, Mr. Bentley.”
I hated when she called me Mr. Bentley, but it was for that same reason that I didn’t correct her. Keep things professional between us, nothing more.
I stepped over to the washed out mess of cabinets. The ones that had been in the kitchen before were a rich cherry. These were almost cream; they were too light.
“They’re awful,” I declared.
Elizabeth followed me, her jaw clenched in unmasked fury. I suppressed a smile.
“They’re part of my design,” she said. “They’ll look good with the rest of the accents I’ve picked out.”
I shook my head, turning toward my study. “No,” I said. “Take them out.” With that, I strode out of there. I’d put on headphones for the rest of t
he day.
But another set of footsteps followed me into the hall. “Mr. Bentley!” Elizabeth called.
I rolled my eyes and kept walking. This woman didn’t give up easily. Under other circumstances, I’d find that very sexy. Hell, I still do.
But also annoying.
She followed me into my study where I could no longer ignore her. “Mr. Bentley!”
I whirled in anger. Now that we were alone, I didn’t have to be as nice as I had been in front of the contractors. She was mistaken if she believed I’d be easy to challenge.
“I think I was perfectly clear in the kitchen,” I snapped.
Her eyes were narrowed, anger matching my own, nostrils flaring, jaw tight. She looked like a warrior queen, ready to defend her people. It was a complete turn on. I wanted her and could not focus on anything else. But that also irritated me, because I couldn’t have her. I was forced to spend almost every day with her in my house and having to ignore the desire that should have long dissipated.
Instead, it just continued to build.
“The reason I chose those cabinets was because they go with the tile,” she said.
I looked at her blankly. “Then send the tile back too. Start over.”
She took a deep breath. “The cabinets are already being installed. I can’t just send them back. And the tile was special order.”
“The cabinets are going to look horrible,” I declared. “I can’t believe Todd brought you in on this project when your design skills are so clearly lacking.”
Elizabeth took another step toward me. It was cute that she thought that would intimidate me any more than it had when the hulk out there had tried it.
“There is nothing wrong with my design skills,” she spat. “And I tried to talk to you about my plans for the kitchen before I started all of this, but you slammed the door in my face.”
She had a point. But like hell I would back down now.
“You can’t demand my attention whenever you feel like it,” I said. “Nobody gets that privilege.”
Billionaire's Bombshell Page 4
