Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26677 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26677 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
He grins.
“We can eat in the kitchen if you want. Or the drawing room, or the parlor, or even in front of the big screen in the entertainment center if you like.”
I giggle.
“Yeah, but wouldn’t we be a little overdressed for the entertainment center?” I ask archly.
He winks.
“You would be, but I’m always comfortable in a suit,” he grins. “Your choice honey.”
I giggle again.
“I’m fine here, thanks. This is perfect.”
With that, he sits down with a chuckle as well, and a warm feeling rushes over my form.
‘Calm down,’ I remind myself. ‘This isn’t a date so don’t start getting all weird and mushy because you two aren’t getting romantic. It’s just a hook-up, and remember that Mason Richards only wants you for your body.’
Right. That knocks some sense in me, and I force myself to stay calm, even if my heart’s going at a rapid clip still. But before I can speak, a manservant appears from a side door, wheeling a cart of food over to us. My eyes widen as the footman begins to serve us.
“For Mr. Richards, honey roast duck served over creamy polenta, with seasoned spinach, carrots, and asparagus on the side. For Miss Lee, the same, as well as seared scallops to share and a side of creamy mashed potatoes. Bon appetit, Mr. Richards. With the chef’s best wishes!”
My mouth is practically on the floor as the manservant wheels the cart back out, and then the door closes, leaving us in silence. I stare at the steaming food, my mouth already watering.
“Do you eat like this all the time?” I manage in a stammer.
My handsome host grins.
“Yes,” he nods, already stabbing at the duck. “Dig in, honey. The honey glaze on this thing is to die for.”
I nod and take a bite before chewing thoughtfully.
“Goodness, I’m starting to think that I made the right decision because of the food alone,” I murmur. “This is excellent!”
Mason chuckles again.
“Good, I’m glad you like it because my chef trained at the Cordon Bleu. But it’s not just that. Chef Kress has been with me for twenty years now, so he knows what I like and has adjusted all of his recipes to suit my tastes.”
I nod.
“But is it a waste, cooking for one person?”
Mason shrugs.
“Not really. We’re not the only ones eating honey-glazed duck tonight, sweetheart. I always make sure that the staff eats well, and they dine on the same food that I do. So you could say that Chef Kress and his staff are cooking for a group of twenty each night.”
“Twenty?” I gasp, nearly choking on a piece of asparagus. “You have twenty people working for you here?”
Mason nods, totally unconcerned.
“More or less, yes. It takes a lot to keep a place like this running,” he says, gesturing to the walls of the dining room with one hand. “There’s always silver to be polished, or another floor to be scrubbed. Dust really collects if you don’t attack it at least once a week,” he grins.
I roll my eyes with a smile.
“Like you know about dust.”
The CEO merely shrugs, a lock of black hair falling over his forehead in a devilish manner.
“I know a lot more about housekeeping that you think, baby girl,” he teases. “Someone’s got to keep this place running.” But then he lifts my fork to my mouth, tempting me with another piece of duck. “Eat, sweetheart,” he commands and before I realize it, I open my mouth, accepting the morsel of food. It’s so good because the honey glaze hits all the right notes while the duck practically melts in my mouth. A moan escapes before I can even think to stop it, and when I open my eyes, Mason’s looking at me with a smoldering gaze.
“Goddamn baby,” he rasps. “Watching you eat is such a fucking turn-on.”
I shake my head.
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is,” he grinds out. “You’re so beautiful, Chelsea, and I love it when a woman enjoys her food. Fuck,” he bites out. The air between us shivers with awareness for a moment, laden with expectations. But then the CEO takes a deep breath before running a hand through his dark hair so that it flops over his forehead attractively.
“So,” he manages in a low voice. “Did you move in okay?”
I almost laugh because the shift in conversation is so abrupt. But I nod while playing with my potatoes.
“Yes, thank you. I don’t have that much stuff and it wasn’t hard, since it was basically just crossing the yard. Your butler, Keynes, helped me a lot.”
“Good,” Mason growls before taking another bite of duck. “Keynes is a great guy, and he’s been with me for a long time now. If you need anything, feel free to reach out to him because he’s the real boss around this place. In fact, he’s the one who suggested your room for you. Do you like it? Have you settled in?”