Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Making my way downstairs, I pass her door and hear the familiar sound of a hair dryer, and it pleases me that she’s the type of woman to have a healthy respect for herself. Every morning she wakes up and takes a shower before spending twenty minutes blow-drying her hair and putting on just a touch of makeup, even if it’s to spend her day snooping around my home. She always puts in an effort, and while she is absolutely gorgeous with her hair in a messy bun and without a shred of makeup, when she does put in that little bit of extra effort, it never fails to blow me away.
She truly is a sweet angel, so fucking beautiful, it’s blinding.
Stopping by the kitchen, I find Krista busily working away, my coffee waiting for me on the corner of the island counter. “Morning, Sir,” Krista says, wiping over the bench. “You’re up early.”
“Yes, I had a bit of an . . . unexpected wake-up call.”
Krista laughs under her breath as though knowing exactly what kind of unexpected wake-up call I had. “I see,” she says, her cheeks flushing. “Then I take it you’ll be needing a protein-filled breakfast to replenish your energy.”
I roll my eyes and drop down at the counter as I sip my coffee. “Comments like that will see your pay docked,” I warn, knowing she’s only teasing. Over these past twelve years with Krista, she’s become one of my true friends. I care for her more than I care to admit, and she knows it, which is exactly how she knows I’d never dock her pay for making jokes at my expense. She’s like the little sister I never had.
Krista laughs to herself as she goes about making me the protein-filled breakfast she joked about.
“She knows who I am,” I murmur, filling the silence.
“And?” Krista prompts, knowing there’s more here.
I press my lips into a tight line, wondering where the hell I’m going with this. “She doesn’t seem to fear me.”
“Have you given her a reason to?”
“My name alone should be enough to terrify her.”
“And yet, she rises with the sun just for the chance to sneak into your room.”
I let out a heavy breath and raise my gaze to meet Krista’s. “I seem to be very intrigued by her.”
“And so you should,” Krista tells me. “Have you taken the chance to speak with her? While she is dazzling and breathtaking in her beauty, she also has a personality worth getting to know. She’s stronger than I think you know.”
“She talks back to me.”
“Well,” Krista laughs. “I said she had a personality worth getting to know, not that she was overwhelmingly clever. I believe she’s just trying to understand where your boundaries are and just how far she can push them.”
I scoff. “She’s delusional.”
“No, she’s strong.”
“This morning she insisted that she was my equal.”
“Oh, okay. Perhaps she’s a little delusional, but it’s not as though that’s a crime,” she teases before a seriousness creeps into her tone. “I know you weren’t asking for my opinion, but if I dare be so bold. As an outsider looking in, it’s clear that she’s just trying to understand her place here, and I think you should allow her the chance to do that.”
My brows furrow as I stare at my chef, not understanding what she’s getting at. “How do you mean?”
“She’s a young, impressionable woman, Killian. Despite how you claim to not be her savior or her hero, that’s exactly what you are, and I see it every day in the way you interact with her. You treat her like the queen you’ve always deserved to have. You claim that she belongs to you, and I think she’s trying to determine if this is a two-way street where she will be the woman who stands proudly at your side and you will be her man and protector, or if she will simply exist as a dirty secret.”
I shake my head. “I see.”
Krista fixes me with a hard stare. “Do you?” I watch her a moment, waiting for her to continue. “Last night you asked me to steam her gown for the annual DeLorenzo Family Gala, an event that’s been going on for longer than I’ve known you, and not once have you ever taken a date. But tonight, for some reason, you are.”
“And? That doesn’t mean anything.”
“By turning up with her on your arm, you are making a statement. You are telling the members of your family that you have found someone worthy of standing at your side and giving you an heir. Is that your intention?”
I lift my coffee to my lips and take a quick sip, unsure how to respond to that, but there’s no denying that she’s right. Bringing a date tonight is making a statement to my family, and the second I walk in with her on my arm, I am making a formal demand that my family shows respect to this woman, that she is important to me, and yet, I still can’t figure out why.