Chapter Six
The moment I realize exactly whose room I am in, I freeze. Part of me wants to tuck my tail between my legs and hightail it out of here but then…
This is his space.
We’re not going to address his comment about my things being where they belong, he can shove that up his ass if he thinks I’ll be spending time anywhere near him and his bedroom.
But this room tells a whole story.
It’s so tidy.
There isn’t a single item out of place, no dress shirts hanging over the back of the chaise lounge, no old water glasses on the side or cufflinks on the dresser. My feet pad over the plush grey carpet, sinking into the soft warm fabric. It smells like him in here, warm and almost comforting which is a surprise since there isn’t a single inch of that man that’s inviting. White walls with black accents, it’s modern in comparison to the rest of the house.
There is only one painting in this room, hanging above the bed which is more abstract than the rest of the ones I’ve seen dotted through the house, the colors a mix of greys and whites and blacks. His huge bed sits in the center of the room, king size with a leather black headboard and monotone sheets that are tucked in and straightened to within an inch of their life.
The bedside units hold a single lamp each, but nothing else, I can’t even see a cellphone charger plugged in. It’s like no one lives here. I might have questioned if I was in the right place if I hadn’t headed to the walk-in closet to find shelves and shelves of his clothes and shoes. They dominate one wall of the closet, which is huge in its own right. All his clothes are color coordinated and then hung by designer.
I nearly laugh at how meticulous it is, with the shirts and the jackets all hanging without a single crease. His shoes are lined neatly in little cubbies and next to that is a large cabinet which showcases his array of designer watches, cufflinks and rings. There’s a drawer full of ties, folded neatly.
“Surely not,” I open the first drawer and find that even all his socks are folded and sorted by color. Only black and white of course because clearly the man can’t have any other color.
Shock runs through me, this is not what I had expected but then I think back to the short time I spent with him at the dining table, how he had fiddled with his cutlery until they all sat in a line and how he spun his glass around every time he picked it up before he set it back down.
Someone likes a little order in their life.
A smile works up my mouth.
Order can so easily be interrupted.
Closing the drawer, I head down the line of hanging clothes, running the tips of my fingers over the softness of them. Money oozes from the fabrics, luxury soaked into the very walls, and I just grab the first shirt I find.
It’s huge which is hardly surprising when the man towers over me but then I walk back down the line, tucking the shirt between two suit jackets. Petty? Definitely. But do I feel better about it? Yes. Yes, I do.
I turn and find all my things put away opposite his. It’s the same set up, my clothes organized and put away based on color and what they are. Even my underwear has been folded into the drawers and my jewelry placed delicately in the cabinet. My shoes are all lined up and cleaned and the only reason I know that, is because the nude pair of Prada heels I wore a few days ago had a scuff on the toe from where I tripped in them, and now that scuff has been buffed out.
Rolling my eyes, I find the drawer with my pajamas, grabbing the first set on top, and then pick out an outfit for tomorrow, with a pair of shoes to match. I don’t want to have to come back here tomorrow. I locate my makeup in a box on one of the shelves and grab everything else I might need before I walk out of the closet, purposely leaving on the light as I cross the room to the bed. Grabbing the corner, I rip the sheets down and then I leave.
The satisfaction it’s given me, just to fuck with his system a little, is well worth it.
Shutting myself in the bedroom next to his, I strip out of my robe and get into the comfy pajamas I grabbed before I sink into the bed. Warmth envelops me as I tug the blankets up to my chin and pluck up my phone, playing the film I’d started before I was forced to dinner.
But it’s not long before fatigue works through me and I fall asleep barely half way into the movie.
A heavy, irritated knock wakes me the following morning, my phone buried under the sheets and my arm numb since I slept with it above my head the whole night.
“Miss Lauder.” A stern female voice I now recognize as Miranda’s, filters into the room. “Miss Lauder.”
Her impatience stresses me out.
Grumbling, I trudge to the door, “Yes, Miranda?”
“Breakfast.” Is all she comes out with before she spins on her polished black shoes and heads back down the hall.
She reminds me of my old etiquette teacher. So grumpy all the time.
With a yawn, I head back into the room and get ready for the day. I dress in a pair of blue denim jeans and a turtleneck sweater before I tie my hair back and apply a small amount of makeup.
When I head downstairs, memorizing the way from the night before, I go to the kitchen where I can smell fresh food being cooked. Miranda is nowhere to be found but there is a man in a chefs uniform whizzing through the kitchen.
“Well good morning, sunshine,” He beams at me when he spots me in the doorway staring at him. He has an accent, French maybe and age lines his face, the smile lines around his eyes and mouth instantly putting me at ease. “You must be Olivia.”
“Um hi,” I give him a little wave which makes me feel ridiculous.
“Mr. Farrow made me aware of your stay here at the estate,” He smiles, “I’m Louis, but you can call me Lou if you like.”
He goes back to whatever he is doing on the counter.
“You work here?” I ask, wandering further into the kitchen.
“All my life,” He says with enthusiasm, “Here. Sit. Sit.” He ushers me to one of the stools around the island. “I hope you like salmon.”
Before I can even open my mouth, a plate is placed in front of me, sour dough bread with crushed avocado, water cress and smoked salmon sits in the center, while two steaming, freshly poached eggs rest on top.
“I – uh, thank you.”
“Dig in!” He claps his hands with a grin.
I pick up my cutlery and cut into the bread, making sure to get a bit of everything on my fork and shove it in my mouth. He watches the whole time which is a little unnerving. But then flavor hits my tongue, the sour lemon with a kick of pepper on the smokiness of the salmon, and I have to stifle a groan.
“Nothing like a classic,” he says, clearly satisfied with my reaction despite not using any words, and goes back to cooking.
I take another bite before I start talking again. “You made dinner last night too?” I ask.
“Yes, Ma’am,” He tells me, nodding, “I hope it was to your liking. You will need to let me know of any dislikes so I can make sure not to give you them. And any allergies.”
“No allergies,” I say before I ask, “Do you always cook for Malakai?”
“Five out of the seven days, yes.” He places a fresh glass of orange juice on the counter, “Coffee?”
With a nod, he starts making coffee while something continues to cook on the stove. I won’t lie, he stands out in a place like this and after dealing with Malakai and Miranda, I don’t know what to make of him.
He’s too…nice.
“Eat up, sunshine!” He places my coffee down, “I hear you have a big day!”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, “Apparently so.”
“The caterers will be coming today to set up ahead of tomorrow,” He goes on, “I love weddings.”
“I love them even more when they’re not my own.”
“Now, now, kitten,” I jump at the sound of Malakai’s voice, “No need to have your claws out so early in the day.”
My teeth sink into my lip so hard I taste the metallic tinge of blood touch my tongue. He prowls across the room, heading right for me.
“Your breakfast, sir,” Louis passes over a plate as Malakai takes the stool right next to mine. He immediately digs in while I still gnaw relentlessly on my lip, making it sore within minutes.
Finally, he drags his eyes from his food, flicking them to me before they drop to my mouth. And I freeze when his hand raises and his thump gently presses against my bottom lip, forcing me to let go of it with my teeth. He rolls his thumb across the bottom lip, all the time I’m sitting there silent and frozen.
When he pulls his thumb away, I see the smear of red on the pad, but it’s gone a moment later when he sucks it into his mouth and then continues on with his breakfast like nothing happened.
What the actual…
Shaking my head, I focus back on my food, cutting around the crusts on the bread to get the rest of the food as I finish it up, leaving the crusts on the side. I don’t care what anyone says, the crusts on the bread are the worst!
“Thank you, Louis,” I say, climbing off the stool and picking up my plate, “That was delicious.”
“What are you–”
I drop the plate in the sink and turn on the tap, grabbing the dish soap before I squirt it onto the sponge I pluck from the side.
“You’ll have to teach me how to mash the avocados like you do,” I tell him, “I can never get it smooth like that.”
“Olivia, we have staff for that.” Malakai interrupts me.
“I can do it,” I grumble to him, focusing back on Louis, “Will you teach me?”
“I mean, sure, of course.”
“Thanks!” I beam.
I finish washing up my plate and pop it in the drainer before I head back to the coffee waiting on the counter next to Malakai’s plate.
His eyes are on me, the neon blue somewhat dulled in the morning light.
“Dennis will be picking you up in five minutes,” he tells me, narrowing his eyes.
“Yay for me,” I take a sip of my coffee, staring at him over the rim.
His mouth kicks up, but it isn’t a kind smile or one that has any warmth to it, “Did you sleep well, kitten?” He asks.
I bristle at the nickname, “Fine after I barricaded the door.” I lie.
He chuckles low, taking a mouthful of food, “You didn’t barricade the door.”
“And how would you know?”
My only answer is a flick of his eyes.
I go to demand a response when the same man that brought me to the estate the day before enters the kitchen.
“Ah, Dennis,” Malakai wipes his mouth with a napkin and climbs from the stool, “Olivia is ready for you now.”
Fuck no I’m not, but I don’t fight him as he guides me toward the foyer and ultimately the front door. With no other choice, I start to follow Dennis but a hand around my waist snags me to a stop.
“Next time kitten,” Malakai rasps in my ear, “When you turn down my sheets, make sure to strip off and climb beneath them. It was disappointing to find you not in my bed.”
For all of two seconds I am stumped and then I am furious.
“Fu–”
My words stop when he presses his lips to my forehead and walks away.