Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
THE BASTARD: We’re going to the Lake District, not the Atacama Desert. If you forget anything, we can just buy it.
ME: I hope that by ‘we’ you mean that you’ll buy it, especially if I forget it because I’m busy running around after you.
ME: Sir.
THE BASTARD: Stop with the sir.
THE BASTARD: Are you going to call me sir when we’re living together?
ME: It would be highly inappropriate for me to refer to you by name. I could call you something else if you prefer. How about Lord Ruxleigh?
THE BASTARD: I should have accepted that resignation after all.
ME: It’s not too late. Would you like me to email you a copy right now?
THE BASTARD: I was joking. It was a joke.
THE BASTARD: Please do not email me a copy of your resignation, Chloe.
THE BASTARD: You can call me anything but Lord Ruxleigh.
THE BASTARD: You can even call me what you have me saved under on your phone.
I froze.
Did he know what I had his number under?
Surely not. There was no way he could have found out he was literally ‘The Bastard’ in my contacts list.
ME: Mr Black? That’s not very innovative. I call you that all the time. That’s even more formal than sir.
THE BASTARD: Hmm. You’re right.
Phew.
ME: Well, it’s been lovely chatting with you, sir, but if we’re confirmed to leave on Friday and there’s nothing else, I’m going to cook my dinner.
THE BASTARD: All right. That’s all. I’ll see you in the morning.
I put my phone down on my stomach and threw my arm across my eyes. That was the longest conversation we’d ever had outside of work that wasn’t strictly completely about work, and it might have been the first time we’d ever joked with one another.
It was… weird.
Between him thanking me, buying us all lunch, teasing me, and then joking with me tonight, I felt as though I’d woken up in a parallel universe where Theodore Black was not actually a complete and utter bastard.
It was equal parts scary and welcome.
Scary because it wasn’t the man I knew, and welcome because…
Well, I supposed this version of him was the kind of person I wouldn’t mind working for.
No.
I wasn’t going to go down that line of thought. The whole reason I was going on this business trip was to win my month-long battle of resignation. If I had second thoughts now, it rendered this upcoming trip completely pointless.
And Chloe St. James did not do pointless things.
I didn’t have the time for pointless things.
Unless it was lying on my sofa, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how the boss I hated had made me blush.
Ugh.
CHAPTER NINE – CHLOE
Buckley Cottage
“I’ve never stopped so many times for a bathroom break in my life.”
I glared over the top of my car at my boss. “Nobody made you stop with me, sir. And may I point out that two of those stops were because you kept buying coffee?”
“If you didn’t stop three times, I wouldn’t have needed coffee.” He closed his car door and stretched his neck from side to side. “Phew. That was a long trip. Coming on Friday was a great idea.”
My idea.
It was my great idea.
“Yes, I wonder what genius came up with it.” I opened my boot and pulled out my second suitcase, but before I could grab the biggest, heaviest one, Theodore appeared at my side and took hold of it. “Sir, I—”
“I’ve got it,” he said. “It looks heavy.”
It was heavy, but… “It’s my job to help you.”
He put my case on the floor, popped the handle up, and stared at me flatly. “You’re my assistant, not my slave.”
Oh.
He did know that, then.
“Besides, this is heavy. I wouldn’t feel right leaving it to you to cart around. I’ll take it up to your room for you.”
“But I—”
“Stop arguing,” he said sharply. “We’re not on the clock this weekend, so don’t make me pull rank.”
I pressed my lips together. “Yes, sir.”
“And don’t call me—”
“Master Ruxleigh!” The warm but stern voice cut through whatever he was saying, and I turned to see an older woman clad in an apron in the doorway. “Remember your manners when speaking to a young lady.”
Theodore froze. “Auntie Pat, I wasn’t—”
“I heard you.” She stomped out of the cottage, twisting a tea towel into the perfect shape for whipping someone with. “If you want to pull rank, let’s pull rank, child!”
“Auntie Pat, you’re looking younger than ever. That lipstick suits you perfectly,” he said quickly, backing up.
“Don’t you sweettalk me, you little pest.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “You’ve lost weight. Are you eating properly? Don’t tell me you still haven’t learnt to cook. Are you wasting your money on ready meals and take aways?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, he is,” I said.
The older woman turned to me. “You must be the poor assistant who’s been dragged halfway across the country to tend to this punk.”