Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
She tilts her head like she’s really thinking about the question. “Yes.”
I hold her gaze and after a beat she looks away.
“Well, I hope I’ll do until you can get back home to…”
She lets out a dull laugh. “My flatmate. She’ll eat anything, which is great. Oh, I forgot the bread.” She comes back with two side plates with half a slice of doorstop-thick bread that I might actually want to marry. I take the plate from her and tear off a chunk. It’s still warm and I can’t help but groan as I chew.
I open my eyes and catch her watching me, her teeth sunken into her lip. I shift in my seat and unfold my legs, not pulling away as I slide mine against hers. The electricity sparks between us, just like it always does when we touch. I leave my leg against hers and she doesn’t pull away.
We lock eyes and an understanding passes between us—a threshold has been crossed.
She looks away. “I hope you like it.”
“I will,” I say and start to eat.
“Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”
Maybe she’s just chitchatting.
Maybe she’s trying to figure out more about the “research” I’m doing.
Maybe she’s trying to rebalance the dynamic between us to work colleagues.
But that ship has sailed.
“For today.” I take a bite of the chicken and it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. “Jesus, Ellie. This is delicious. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
She blushes slightly and my dick stirs. She’s gorgeous. If she’s wearing makeup, I can’t tell. Her skin is glowing, her eyes are bright and wide and her dark hair is piled on her head like she’s completely comfortable. She looks happier than I think I’ve ever seen her. I guess this is at-home Ellie as opposed to work Ellie. I like it. A lot.
“I’m self-taught—” She stops herself even though she was clearly going to say more.
“But…” I prompt.
“I’d like to…learn more.”
She’s hiding something and she’s terrible at it. It’s both hilarious and utterly charming. “So, what’s your plan, because I can tell you have one.”
She sighs. “I do, but…you’re my boss.”
I shake my head because thoughts like that are entirely unacceptable. If I start thinking about her as an employee? My brain can’t reconcile the soft press of her leg against mine with the idea that I have any kind of power over her career. “Not tonight. Not while you’re here.”
She narrows her eyes as she considers what I’ve said. “Promise? Can you wipe clean your mind if I tell you?”
“I promise.”
“I want to go to Le Cordon Bleu. I’m saving. It’s why I need this job so badly.”
Guilt stabs me in the gut at hearing how much she wants the job. I’ve practically ignored her since she started. I’ve not even considered that she’s worried she’s going to be fired. “Okay,” I manage to choke out.
“I don’t mean to be disloyal. It’s going to take me a while to save. I won’t leave you high and dry, when the time comes.”
Here she is worried about being disloyal to me, when if my plans come off, I’m not going to need an assistant. “You don’t need to worry about being disloyal. No one commits to a job for life anymore.”
“Right,” she says and sadness flickers across her eyes. “Wish I’d figured that out a little bit sooner.”
I try to think back to what her CV said about her previous job, but I barely took much notice. I just needed an assistant and she’d seemed more enthusiastic than I was over the phone, so I hired her. “Were you cooking before this job?”
She shakes her head. “No, I was managing my boyfriend—my ex-boyfriend’s Speedway career.”
“Speedway? What’s that?”
She groans like she wishes we weren’t having this conversation, or maybe at the thought of her ex-boyfriend. “A bunch of men who never grew up racing around dirt tracks on motorcycles that don’t have any brakes.”
“I’ve never heard of it. Didn’t realize it was a thing. And you were his manager?”
She shrugs. “The sport isn’t as popular as it was, but they have hardcore fans and the riders are celebrities in their own corner of the world.”
I can’t help but laugh. The picture she paints isn’t flattering. “I get that. Being famous in your corner of the world. It can be…a pain in the neck for people around them.”
She swallows and holds my gaze. “You’re not getting away with stopping there. Please elaborate.” She says it with a smile, but in a tone like she fully expects me to comply.
I laugh—she’s so completely transparent and that’s so refreshing. “My parents. Both are phenomenal in their fields. Everyone in medicine knows about the Coves. And despite it being my name, when people talk about ‘the Coves,’ they mean my mum and dad.” A couple of times, I’d overheard people talking about “the Cove brothers.” But I got the distinct impression it had little to do with our medical expertise. “I’m proud of them. Don’t get me wrong. But it’s weird.”