Chapter 1
No one told her what it would be like to have a client with more money than God Himself.
Oh, she knew that the dough would be better. Being retained comes with certain perks. But Old Money isn’t like the typical run-of-the-mill client that Kara has had in the past. Not even in the slightest…and that comes with a price. Her fucking sanity.
Kara inhales as slowly and deeply as she can, gripping her steering wheel reflexively. It’s just past six in the morning and Dietrich Bittinger is being absurd. She’s not even had time to have a coffee yet, considering she rolled straight out of bed for him and drove out to the suburbs to his estate.
The drive is long, even without traffic. She’d gotten out of the city just before it got too congested, even for a Saturday. The city never quite sleeps, after all. He’s far in the northwestern burbs, full of sprawling landscapes and beautiful forest preserves, gated communities for the ultra-private. The ultra-rich.
Old, old money.
Kara would be lying if she said she didn’t like his estate. It’s quiet, peaceful. She’s missed that, living in the big city these past few years.
It’s been four months since she went with him to the dreadful, nightmarish party at the Calais, Vickers, and Yates office. Four long, painful months. Not only is Dietrich completely uncaring of her emotional state on the matter, considering the situation with Nick and the situation with her father, but Dieter is about as demanding as an infant.
Which, it turns out, is very .
While Gale has been down in Arizona intermittently to help cover Kara’s absence with her father and his embezzlement drama, Kara has been putting in more hours than she cares to count with Dietrich. She has more phone calls with Gale than ever before, having to ask for advice surrounding the many situations that continually pop up, scanning documents over to her, and spending long hours studying incessantly.
Legal contracts. Petty litigations. PR representation.
At this point, Kara almost feels like she’s gained three years of hard experience in just a few months. It’s taxing and she’s finding herself mentally exhausted to the point of continual fatigue.
But, think about how marketable you will be in the future. Look at how much you’ve learned. Working for Dieter has taught you more than working for Derrick Benson, and the money-
She dismisses the thought as she pulls up to the extremely long driveway, hidden amongst trees on the road. It’s long, and winding once she gets past the gate, crawling nearly an acre away from the street itself.
When the main estate comes into view, Kara glowers at it. She’s exhausted and without a stitch of caffeine; he better have a good reason for hollering at her to come see him at this time in the morning, driving an hour out.
The house itself isn’t really a house. More of a mansion, all stone and brick on the outside. The architecture is a mix of old elegance and modern style. A massive five-car garage sprawls to the left and a stone path leads around the back, towards the onsite barn hosting Dietrich’s horses. He’s got several acres of land behind the main building, lovely green grass and full of trees.
Shutting her car off, Kara grabs her purse and strolls towards the double-wide front doors, decorated tastefully with elegant stone pedestals on either side. Graceful statues stand nearby, holding out lights for the front at night.
Kara isn’t dressed for work; she simply doesn’t give a hoot at this point. He’s more of a bratty-childish-friend than he is her boss, so she’s not going to get all dressed up for him. Not this effing early.
Using the gigantic brass door knockers with a certain agitation, Kara waits to be let inside. A chill morning breeze catches her, straight through her thin sweater.
The front door swings open quite suddenly, one of the maids allowing her inside. Maria looks anxious, waving Kara in.
“He’s in a mood, I suppose,” Kara says in greeting.
Maria silently nods, not wanting to verbally say anything against her employer.
As she steps into the rich marble entryway, Kara wonders what the fuss is about this time. From the top of the grand bridal stairway, the reason for Kara’s misfortune appears like a bad omen. “ There you are .” He’s waspish, his tone just as bad as it was on the phone. “Took your sweet time-”
“You know I live nearly an hour away!” Kara replies angrily as she watches him descend the stairs, shifting her glasses up so she can rub her tired eyes some more. “I can’t change time and space.”
“Then move closer . I need you to fix this situation, now. I woke up and saw his resignation notice in my inbox and then realized there would be no goddamn breakfast this morning.”
“What are you on about now?” Kara isn’t up to date on the issue at hand. “ Who gave you their resignation?”
His peridot eyes flash, as if the answer is absolutely clear and Kara is a nitwit. There’s no exhaustion in his face, his gaze sharp and alive, pale hair neatly coifed, clothes flawlessly Hampton Social in style. As always, he looks like perfection and it’s vastly annoying. “The chef!”
Kara stares at him, feeling like she’s inside another dimension of craziness. This bastard did not, absolutely did not call her here because another one of his house staff quit.
It’s completely beyond Kara’s wildest imagination as to why a man of his means cannot simply order in breakfast. He’s stubborn and incredibly spoiled, so that probably contributes to it, as she’s come to learn these past few months working for him.
Horribly spoiled. Beyond rotten.
She’s also learned that telling Dieter he’s being a child isn’t going to help anything at all. In fact, against all odds, Kara’s learned a far more interesting technique, one that practically makes her gag. “I understand this is… very trying …for you, Dieter, but-”
She doesn’t understand whatsoever, but she must fake that she does .
The painfully handsome man, even lovelier in the morning light, stops his frantic pacing to give her a scowl that only seems to enhance his attractiveness. “Trying? Trying ? You will fix it, immediately!” He scoffs, eyes viciously green. “If you’d gotten here sooner, you could already be knee deep into making the proper calls and checking candidates.”
Maria wisely scurries away, dusting sparkling surfaces as she evacuates the scene.
Exhale. Slower. Don’t blow up at him. He’s paying Gale’s legal fees to help keep Dad out of the slammer for the time being. Plus, he’s your best paycheck in years. Behave, Kara, behave…
“Dieter, I’m your third-string lawyer, not your servant. It isn’t my job to hire your housing staff. Where is your staff manager? I’ll get this straightened out with her for you .” It’s too early for this madness. Her head begins to ache.
Displeasure continues coloring his features. It seems Dieter is committed to being wretched this morning. “She quit two weeks ago. I sent you a goddamn memo about it, expecting you to fix it. Why is it not fixed?”
Kara feels her face shift in further disbelief. She remembers the email, and she’d darn well thought it was just him complaining. She wants to shake him, but she also wants to walk into the nearby sunroom and go back to sleep on one of those lovely cream couches. He lets her do that sometimes. “I didn’t realize that was part of my job description. Hiring people for you. As I said, I can’t-”
Dietrich’s face reddens faintly. “Gale would do it for me.”
Oh ho …she is not going to play this game. Not with him. Kara turns on her heel, exhausted, grouchy, and angry. Above all, she needs a damn coffee. Her brain is positively screeching for it. “Call Gale. I’m not stopping you.”
You don’t understand, Gale had told her before she left for another trip to Arizona . I’m his therapist, his mother, and his lawyer. He’s one of those nightmare clients that makes you rich, but he’ll test your sanity. He’s high maintenance. He will expect you to take on many roles in his life.
Yeah, that’s clearly no joke.
He makes a noise between a growl and a sigh. In the distance, Maria scurries between two rooms quickly, as if her speed of movement will keep her safe from his displeasure. It’s almost comical. Kara strides towards the front door, intent on going to find herself food when she hears him say, “Where are you going? Who is going to feed me?”
One of the more appalling things Kara has learned about Dieter since she first started working for him isn’t just that he’s a vicious brat of a man. Oh no . It’s the fact that he’s one of those rich men who grew up being waited on hand and foot. His parents had servants that cooked, cleaned, and raised the family in their stead. His mother was barely present for anything family related, as if she didn’t have a family at all.
Dietrich Bittinger has never been responsible for doing anything mundane in his life. Or rather, things he considers mundane. Cooking for himself is apparently one of those things.
“Order in like a normal human being,” Kara says dryly. “Have Maria get you fast food.”
He looks like a petulant boy, mouth twisted in confusion, eyes a terrible mix of indignant and lost. It makes it hard to stay mad at him.
Kara decides to take pity in that moment and sighs like the whole world is sitting on her shoulders. Dropping her purse onto the cream-wood side table, elegantly topped with some form of decorative stone, Kara rasps, “Dear God, Dietrich. Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Turning down the hall, Kara ignores the wall full of trophies from his various equestrian sports, his business accolades, and the austere family portraits. She especially ignores the large sepia portrait of Saoirse Bittinger, international supermodel. Dieter’s icy-eyed mother.
He follows Kara as she makes her way towards the kitchen. “My kitchen? Why, are you going to conjure a goddamn cook and head of house staff for me? Draw a pentagram with some chalk? Need some goddamn candles?”
Trying to not laugh at him, biting her lip to keep a stern expression, Kara replies, “No, I’m going to make breakfast. As it happens, I’m hungry and need some coffee and eggs. You interrupted my sleep with your crisis .”
He rolls his eyes.
It’s a disturbing fact that Kara has spent more time in Dietrich’s company these past few months than she ever did with Nick. There’s a hollow ache in her chest at the thought. She knows why of course; Nick was never really hers to begin with.
…and he never wanted to be.