Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 53764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
His eyes penetrated hers. "What do you need?"
"My clothes," she said simply.
"You'll have them in the morning."
****
Two weeks later, Natalie had a routine established. Her nerves still fluttered whenever Marco was around, but he wasn't around often. He rarely ate in, and he came home from work late at night, and looked at her only briefly with hooded eyes before he locked himself in his study. She had only been asked to cook for him twice, and both times, she had retreated to her bedroom after putting his meal on the table. He was unstintingly polite to her at all times and she attempted her best to remain the same.
The bedroom that he had placed her in on that very first night became hers. She silently wished for the room farthest away from his, but was too afraid to rock the proverbial boat by asking him if she could make the move and she wasn't brave enough to do it without asking. Except for its location near him, the bedroom she was using was extremely comfortable. It came equipped with a flat screen television, a writing desk, a small sitting area, as well as an en-suite bathroom.
The day her clothes had shown up, so had a sleek, thin, state of the art laptop. After she'd finished in the kitchen, she found it on her writing desk, out of the box and ready to go. She'd had the opportunity to ask him about it that very same evening. "I think there's been a mistake. There's a laptop in my room."
"Do you have a computer already?" He had to know she didn't.
"No."
"Then it's for your use. There's wifi in the building."
"Thank you. And thank you for the cell phone as well."
He nodded his head once and then looked back to his own computer screen, dismissing her altogether.
And that had been that. He hadn't bothered to ask if she had a dedicated phone number--so she sent out a mass text message to her contacts informing them of the new number.
Natalie had also spoken to her mother and assured her of her welfare. She hadn't told her the complete truth, only that she'd gotten a temporary job as a cleaner. She'd learned from the conversation that her mom still had the live-in boyfriend. Someday, she reminded herself, her mother would see that he was no good. Until that day came, Natalie consoled herself with the thought that he was very likely only a cheater and a loser; he didn't seem to be a drug user or an abuser of alcohol. He'd never shown any violent tendencies. Hopefully, her mom would come to her senses and Natalie could move back to the small town she loved and the job she knew she'd be welcomed back to at the title company, where she'd worked for the last four years.
As far as work sentences were concerned, so far, hers had been a breeze. She almost felt guilty, and it occurred to her with a flare of conscience that crashing into him had possibly been the best thing she'd ever done. She was so used to long work hours, that taking care of his home, so far, had been the easiest job she'd ever had. Granted, she wasn't earning any money, and she didn't have a car at her disposal, but after a few easy hours in the morning of wiping the counters, running the vacuum and straightening up, the days were hers.
So far, she'd spent them catching up on her sleep, taking long hot baths, and watching scads and scads of cable television--something she'd never had access to before on a regular basis.
Of course, she'd used the computer to Google him. His name was the first thing she'd put into the search engine. She hadn't found out as much as she'd expected, mostly information about his bank. It was a family entity, started by his grandfather in the early days after the Second World War. Its home base was in New York, making her wonder why he made his home in Houston. The major stockholder was Marco, who inherited the majority holding when his paternal grandfather had died. His own father had been killed, in a plane crash alongside his mother, when Marco was a boy of nine. Natalie silently winced for him when she had read that he had been orphaned at such an early age. He seemed to be basically alone now, although he had numerous cousins and a few aunts and uncles spread around the world. He was thirty-two years old, his middle name was Rafaele, but she couldn't find any information on his private life.
She'd given up that endeavor when she'd become frustrated from lack of information and from the sorrow his childhood circumstances caused her. She'd pushed it from her mind and gone back to exploring.