Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I wondered how much she knew about the family. If she’d been with them since Angelo and Lucien were children, then she had to know a lot, probably more than she let on. “How many family members live here?”
“Four. Mr. Lucien’s father, Franco Marchesi, isn’t here now, though. He’s spending several months in the Bahamas, but Mr. Franco’s sister, Sabrina, has lived here since she left her husband, and Mr. Lucien’s brother, Angelo, and their cousin Devil are part of the household. The three of them are on this floor, but I put you in the guest room next to Mr. Lucien. I assumed he’d prefer that.” We continued on to the third floor.
I’d assumed Lucien would prefer me to be waiting in his bed, but I was glad I’d have my own space, not that I had any illusions he wouldn’t burst in whenever he chose.
Lola opened the door and gestured for me to enter. I stared in awe. The room was much larger than the closet-like bedroom in my apartment. The color palette included varying shades of blue and white. There was a queen-sized bed with a beautifully carved pine frame. The bed itself would have filled the entire bedroom in my apartment, but here, there was room for a chaise as well as a desk matching the style of the bed. The floor was hardwood, but a pale blue rug lay under the bed, and it looked like it would feel heavenly under my feet. In front of the low-backed, cream-colored sofa lay another rug in a darker blue.
“I’ve placed the things from your apartment here.” She pointed to some matching suitcases that were against the wall by a door I guessed led to a closet.
“That’s not my luggage.”
“Carla selected it for you, but if it’s not to your liking, let me know.”
“Oh, it’s not that. It’s just that I…”
“Mr. Lucien likes buying nice things. You’ll get used to it.”
I didn’t think I would, nor would it be good for me to.
“This is your bathroom.” She indicated a different door. It was twice the size of the one in my apartment. There was a tub as well as a shower. The tile, towels, and bathmat were dark blue, and the rest was bright white and so clean it sparkled.
“Is everything satisfactory?” Lola asked.
I realized I’d been gawking and not really paying attention. “It’s lovely. I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”
“Wait until you see the closet.”
I wasn’t sure I could handle that. She opened the door next to the suitcases, and as I suspected, the closet was huge—at least by city standards—and it was filled with clothes. Not my own clothes, which would hardly have taken up a tenth of the space, but clothes so far out of my price range I was afraid to touch them. There were shoe boxes on the floor and several bags that seemed to be filled with bottles of shampoo, body wash, and who knew what other products.
“All this is for me?”
Lola smiled. “Yes. I considered taking these into the bathroom”—she gestured toward the bags filled with all manner of toiletries—“but I thought you might want to arrange them yourself.”
I thought about my shower at home. The only things in there were a bar of soap and bottles of shampoo and conditioner. “I’m sure I don’t need all of this.”
“Mr. Lucien wants you to be comfortable here. Use whatever you need, and if there’s anything else you’d like, just let me know.”
Would he really buy anything for me? “I can’t accept all this.”
“You’ll have to discuss that with Mr. Lucien.”
I could imagine how that conversation would go. Lucien did whatever he wanted, and I was expected to accept it. I got up the nerve to reach out and touch one of the shirts. The fabric was so soft and would feel amazing sliding against my skin. I should refuse all of this and try to figure out how to convince Lucien to let me go, but I couldn’t help but fantasize about how wonderful it would be to be his pampered princess. What would he expect of me in return?
More than I was willing to give? Maybe not. I definitely didn’t mind working as a receptionist, and I’d been given far less work to do than in the offices where I’d temped. I was still a little afraid of Carla, but she never demeaned me or expected too much, and she was incredibly competent, which was more than I could say for most of the people I’d worked with.
“Do you have any other questions?” Lola asked.
I had so many questions, but none of them were for Lola, and most of them would likely go unanswered. “No. Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you here then. As I said before, dinner is at eight. I’m sure Mr. Lucien will let you know if he has other plans once he arrives.” Before she reached the door, she turned back. “I almost forgot. There’s a phone for you on the nightstand. Mr. Lucien will contact you on it if he has a message for you.”