My jaw drops. What the hell was that?
I watch him swiftly wipe his lips with the napkin provided. Is it something I said? Something I did? Is it the food? I take a bite of the brioche, then pop it in my mouth. No, of course, it’s not the food. It’s delicious.
He stands up and takes several steps away from me, but my feet seem to have a mind of their own. I follow him in a flash, just in time to stop him from opening the door.
“Wait!” I yell as I grab his arm.
“Don’t touch me!” he shouts, pulling his arm back. His voice is like the Beast’s—Belle’s Beast. My heart skips a beat.
His masked face looks down on me; he is glaring and breathing heavily. I stagger back.
“Rule number two. I hate being touched.”
I shudder at the sound of his voice. I feel ashamed for only grabbing his arm. Is this another reason he hates going out of his room other than his hiding-from-the-whole-world game? He hates being touched?
I back away, feeling embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I was wrong. It won’t happen again.” I breathe a sigh of sadness, realizing that I crossed the line. I shouldn’t have asked him to come out.
He says through gritted teeth, “If hating you can be a rule, I’d be happy putting it as number one. You are very brazen and presumptuous. You need to behave.” He steps forward and lowers himself to my height. He is too tall compared to my five-foot-three. He leans over to my ear, then breathes on my neck. I’m not able to answer. I almost stumble. “Someone should teach you, Miss Hart. It’s a shame I can’t.”
Electricity flares all over my body through his words alone. I gasp at how my body reacts to him. He didn’t even touch me. I didn’t know such a feeling was possible. Unless, of course, he is using a black-magic spell on me.
My inner self chuckles at my thoughts. What’s up with me, thinking that a billionaire would use black magic to make my knees tremble if he can do it effortlessly?
He pulls back, then turns around. “Don’t forget the address. Bring it to me at dinner.”
He walks away, leaving me breathless and unsettled.
It is afternoon when Ms. Lennie comes to my kitchen while I’m preparing dinner for the almighty Master.
I have been ill at ease for the last few hours. I’m bothered by his earlier actions. He was too dark. He’s unfathomable. And he was wearing a mask. Yet I’m still enthralled.
“You seem troubled,” Ms. Lennie observes.
“I just spoke with a person who has hidden from the world all his life. Maybe I just can’t get over it,” I answer while stirring the corn and kernel cheese soup I’m making.
“How did it go?” she asks icily.
“He signed the contract and we spoke of a few things before breakfast, but his mood changed so suddenly. He walked out on me.”
“Is that all?” she asks. “Did you do something odd again that angered him?”
“Nothing, believe me.”
“Well, your talent in cooking is unquestionable, but you are rather clumsy at times,” she remarks in a flat tone.
Is she scolding me now or something?
“This time, I don’t think I did anything.” I stop and turn off the stove. I pick up the pot and transfer the soup to the bowl.
“That smells nice,” she says.
“Thank you.” I lift the bowl and move it to the island to prepare it with the rest of the dish. “You know... I didn’t like how he didn’t even eat his breakfast,” I continue, unsure why I’m suddenly talking to her. “I dressed up for it, and I felt insulted. I couldn’t help but get mad. I had a reason, then he told me I needed to behave? I think that applies best to him.”
She tenses. “It’s been a long time since the Master locked himself away from the world. You are the first person who made him come out after a decade. What does he look like?”
“He’s tall and—” I pause. Oh, no! I remembered I wasn’t supposed to say anything to Ms. Lennie. I promised to keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately, I just told her half of everything. What’s holding you back?“He’s fine,” I add.
“He’s fine? Are you blind, young lady? He is good-looking, isn’t he?”
I glance at her in surprise. I didn’t expect those words from her.
But yes, he is. I thought the unmasked side half of his face was beautiful, but I decide not to tell her our boss was wearing a mask.
“Don’t say that aloud,” I hiss. “He might hear you. It might get into his head.” I shake my head in disbelief. Besides, I shouldn’t care what he looks like.
“Your reaction showed enough attraction,” she points, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I don’t feel it. His character doesn’t even allow me to consider his physical traits.”
“But I hope this will make you realize that our master isn’t cruel. He won’t bother himself this much just for a piece of information.”
“I understand.” I slip my hand in my pocket and feel the paper in my palm—the piece of paper he needs. I wrote Lucia’s whereabouts on it.
“I should go now, Miss Hart. I still have things to do. Hurry with that soup.”
“Yes, Ms. Lennie.”
I go to the boss’s room at precisely seven in the evening. It is his usual dinner time. Tonight, I cooked Greek tangerine beef and a bowl of soup. I bring the signed documents of our contract with me as well.
I knock three times. “Master, your dinner is here,” I call loudly.
I don’t bother waiting for an answer. I push the door open and drag the food trolley in. The room is surprisingly bright when I enter. I didn’t notice that his private space was so vast and spotless before. It looks like a house inside another house. He even has his own living room.
“Hello?” I call, but he doesn’t answer. The silence is deafening. “The soup will get cold.” I stroll toward the bedroom, but there’s just an empty bed. My shoulders fall. “Ugh, God. I really need a massage. My shoulders are killing me,” I complain as I knead my shoulder.
“You should get one.” I jump in surprise upon hearing his husky voice behind me. When did he come in? I spin around to see him. He is wiping his wet hair with a white towel wrapped around his waist, but I still can’t see his face because he covers it with another towel.
But what startles me the most is...
Is that a scar on his right chest? Man, of course, I notice how sexy he is. I always have, but I just can’t seem to ignore it. I immediately look away, but the image of it has already been imprinted in my mind.
It’s a keloid scar, slightly pink, thick, spread across his shoulder blade.
What happened to him? It doesn’t look like a scar you get from an accident. It seems somewhat like burn scars that were made... on purpose.
“I’ll give you a pass to the spa I own near my office building. Do you know where my company is?”
“Yes, I know where it is.”
“I’ll give you gift cards.”
Carefully, I lift my head but avoid looking at his face. “Thank you for your generosity.” I force a smile.
“Is that how you thank people? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“By nothing,I wonder what it’s like to see him nude all over again. Now, it won’t be just his sexy back. I’d love to run my fingers over his stomach...
Stop, Alayna!Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to get out of his room. He sits on the couch in front of me. He looks normal, but not too normal—just a barefoot man in his black shirt, gray sweatpants, and a mask.
Does he possibly have a scar on his face too? Is that why he keeps on wearing a mask?
“Here.” He hands me gold cards with the logo of Grethe and Elga Enterprises on it.
“Thank you.” I look up and smile. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Just do your usual.” He walks to the couch and sits, then he grabs the book from the side table. I follow him and slump in the lounge next to him.
“What are Grethe and Elga?”
“It’s not what. It’s who,” he corrects.
“Who are they then?”
“Hungry for information, Miss Hart?”
“No. It’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”
“They are my mother’s and my sister’s names. Well, they were.”“Oh, no. What happened?”
“They died ten years ago,” he says curtly.
Ten years.I feel all the blood rush to my face. I know how hard it is to lose someone. When my father died, I felt like my world fell apart. I thought I wasn’t going to survive. “I’m so sorry. Really. It must be so hard for you. But how about your father?”
His brows furrow. “I don’t talk about him.”
“My father died too,” I mumble against my will.
But surprisingly, he sounds apologetic. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I have twelve siblings to take care of at home.”
He nods. “And you’re the breadwinner.”
“Since my father died.” I shut my eyes; my breath quickens. “I’m sorry I’m talking too much.” I don’t know why I’ve suddenly opened up. Maybe it’s because I can see the sadness in his eyes. We aren’t too different in this, after all.
His gaze softens. “It’s all right.”
“Oh, before I forget...” I slip my hand in my pocket, then grab the folded piece of paper. “I have Lucia’s information.” He hasn’t explained why he’s looking for her, yet I’m willing to give the information away. Well, he wouldn’t bother if it’s not important to him.
“Wait.”
My hand automatically pushes the paper back into my pocket. “Yes?”
“Keep it, or maybe give it to Oliver instead. I don’t think I’m ready. YetI don’t completely understand what he meant. He even offered a price for this and signed a contract. “I thought you needed this?”
“Ollie will take a look at it. Where’s the contract?”
I guess that’s when I should stop any further questions, though I’m inquisitive.
“OhHe nods, doesn’t bother to check the content, and puts the folder on the side table.
I hold the handlebar of the trolley in an attempt to leave him alone, but he stops me again.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t mind, right? Joining me for dinner?” he asks, his tone holding a doubt.
I smile but am slightly astonished. “Not if you’re going to walk out on me.” I shrug.
“I won’t. I promise.”