Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
To my surprise, he answered. He just didn’t make eye contact as he did. “Within the first few weeks after I started working for him.”
“That was four years ago.”
He gave a slight smile that was packed with his sadness. “Yes…it’s been a long time.”
“That must be hard.” I couldn’t imagine working for someone you felt that strongly for every single day for years, knowing they would never feel the same way.
He dunked his cookie into the tea before he took a bite. “It was never really hard…until you.”
I gave a slight nod. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said quickly before he brought his cup to his lips to take a drink. “It was bound to happen sometime.” He set the teacup back on the saucer then met my look, hostility gone from his gaze. “You’re a very lucky woman. He’s a good man.”
“You think so?”
He studied me for a while, inhaling a deep breath as he considered his response. “I know how he earns his money. I know he’s a criminal…and what kind of criminal he is. But I believe someone’s goodness is determined by more than just their sins. Every day I’ve worked for Fender, he’s been generous and kind, and even in his coldness, his loyalty is unquestionable. I’ve seen the softness beneath the hardness, seen the way he cares when no one else would. And with the kind of life he’s had, the kind of suffering he’s endured, the kind of revenge he possesses…I understand it. Whether it’s right or wrong, I understand it.”
“What…what kind of life has he had?”
He looked into his teacup and gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m sorry, Melanie. A butler always keeps his master’s secrets. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”
Gilbert visited me every day.
Sometimes, he joined me for lunch. Sometimes, it was dinner. There was always this tension between us, because while Gilbert had dropped his hostility, he would never truly overcome his pain.
I had the man he wanted—and that would always hurt.
His love seemed so genuine that I actually felt guilty for being the one in Fender’s bed.
Gilbert came into my room one night after dinner with a notebook and a book. He sat on the couch beside me, wearing a pajama set instead of his usual tuxedo.
I’d never seen him in anything other than his butler’s uniform, so it made me stare at him longer than I usually would. He was lean and toned, a really handsome guy, probably Raven’s age. The V in the front of his shirt showed his hard chest and some hair.
He opened the notebook and clicked his pen, crossing one leg and resting his ankle on the opposite knee. “Yes?”
“Sorry. I’ve just never seen you dressed like that.”
“I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem.” He lifted his chin and looked at me for confirmation.
“No, not at all. Kinda nice, actually. Feels like we’re friends…”
He looked back at his notebook—like we would never be friends. “Fender mentioned that you’d like to learn French.”
“Yes, but you don’t have to teach me—”
“It’s no problem.” He opened the book he’d brought with him, which held translations for words from French to English.
“Thanks. Sometimes Fender speaks to me in French, and I have no idea what he’s saying.” When he spoke to me in bed, it turned me on even though I didn’t know what a single word meant. If I did know, it would probably be even sexier. “And when he talks to people, it’d be nice to know what’s going on.”
“What does he say?”
I looked away, feeling too guilty to say it out loud.
“It’s okay,” he said with a strong voice. “You don’t have to hide your relationship for my sake.”
So, he’d already deduced why Fender was speaking to me in French. “Are you seeing anybody?”
He turned to look at me, his pen in his hand.
“I mean, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
His gaze remained stoic as he turned back to his notebook. “This moment? No. But I’ve had relationships on and off for the last few years. Sometimes serious. Sometimes not. When things are good, it does help my situation with Fender, but there’s nothing that will ever truly make those feelings go away.” He cleared his throat. “I trust that you won’t share these things with him.”
“Never.”
He made some notes with his pen, writing out some common words. “Were you the one who figured it out…or was it him?”
I wanted to lie and spare his feelings, but I didn’t. “I told him when I noticed, but he said he’s known for years.”
He inhaled a deep breath, and his pen steadied. After he recovered from the embarrassment, he continued to write.
“Have you considered leaving?”
He finished his notes then clicked the top of the pen. “I could never leave him. No one could ever run his life the way I do.”