Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
He kissed the moist skin below her ear. “Me neither.”
“What an odd pair we are . . .”
“Not odd,” he said introspectively. “Just finding our way. It’ll be easier now that we have each other’s company.”
Chapter 19
Hunger
The satin sheets made a hushing whisper as Lucian rolled onto his back. “Where’re you going?”
Scout stood from wedging her foot into her shoe. “Work.”
He grimaced and leaned up on his elbow. The deep amber sheet slid from his chest. Rather than tell her all his reasons why she shouldn’t work as a housekeeper at Patras, he said, “Don’t go.”
Her heart expanded and she walked over to the bed and kissed his cheek. “I have to. People are depending on me.”
“Do you like cleaning?”
“Not particularly, but it’s a good job.”
He watched her for a moment, his fingers running over her apron. “I’ll be waiting for you here as soon as your shift’s over.”
“I’ll be here,” she said confidently.
His lips kissed the corner of her mouth. “I have to run into town for a business brunch. Other than that I’ll be here if you need anything.”
When he kissed her like that, courteously, with a trace of intimate affection, emotions stirred that were better left dormant. Scout wasn’t used to such gestures, and the tiny thrill of joy little kisses from Lucian provoked in her. Each one was like a sifted grain of sand that could eventually lead to an avalanche. She didn’t want to be swept away and eventually fall in.
Work was a repeat of the day before. Scout’s schedule was impossibly light and this time she noticed everyone else seemed a bit burdened with larger than usual assignments. Rather than dusting the common areas over and over again, she finished her rooms and went down to Tamara’s office.
Her knuckles knocked on the door lightly.
“Come in.”
“Hi, Tamara. Are you busy?”
Her GM pushed aside a salad she was mixing at her desk. “Of course not. What’s up?”
Scout stepped into the plain office and fidgeted with the slip of paper her schedule had been printed on. “I wanted to talk to you about my workload.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Is ten hours too much?”
“Oh, no. I . . . the hours are fine. If you needed me more I could do more. I was actually wondering why my roster’s been so light.”
She had the grace to blush. “Um, Mr. Patras said that you . . . I mean . . .” She sighed. “I’m kind of in a weird position here, Scout. Mr. Patras is my boss’s boss’s boss. What he says goes.”
“And he told you I wasn’t supposed to have more than a certain amount of assignments in a day?”
Her expression validated her assumption. “I’m sorry.”
Scout pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not your fault. I’ll talk to him.”
When she returned to the penthouse, she was exhausted. Her stomach felt like it was slowly imploding it was so empty. Starvation was something she’d always tolerated, but since she’d been eating better, when it did hit, it hit with a vengeance. She was so hungry the thought of food made her frustrated and ill. She just wanted to sleep.
Lucian was at his desk when she came in. He tucked away what he was working on and stood.
“Hey, I need to talk to you,” he said with a smile.
Scout put her bag on the floor and met him at the seating area. He kissed her cheek with restrained affection and she sat. “I need to talk to you too.”
Her body sunk into the plush sofa, and her spine seemed to melt. She eased her head back and shut her eyes. Wearily she said, “Lucian, you can’t tell my boss I can only clean so many rooms. Do you realize that maids make tips? The less rooms I clean the less tip money I earn.”
“I hadn’t thought about that. It doesn’t matter anyway.” She peeked through one eye at him. He wore a satisfied grin.
Dryly, she asked, “Why doesn’t it matter, Lucian?”
“Because you’ve been promoted.” He seemed quite pleased with himself.
She sat up. It took a lot of effort.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but she had to ask anyway. “What do you mean ‘promoted’?”
“Next Wednesday you start your new job at the front desk. You won’t have to clean, the pay is better, and I’ll know where you are in case I need to find you for some reason.”
“Oh, Lucian, no . . .” All she saw in her mind were the computers that lined the counter and the pages printing from the machines and the receipts sliding back and forth. All things she didn’t know how to use, all things that required a person to be literate. “I can’t do that job.”
“Why not? It’s easy.”
“For you maybe. Lucian, I don’t know how to use computers. I’d have to answer phones and . . . I’m sorry. I know you meant well, but I can’t accept the offer.”