Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Ella turns quickly to look at me, her blue eyes shining.
“That’s so kind of you, Nick,” she says in a quiet voice. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
I smirk although internally, my heart’s turning over.
“Yeah, I cultivate the image of a ruthless billionaire because it is, in fact, what I am. But it’s important to be charitable and when you have so much,” I say, gesturing to the professional chef’s kitchen. “It’s a waste not to use this space, or at least let someone else use it. I come from nothing,” I add in a slow tone. “Our fridge wasn’t empty, but my parents barely scraped by. College wasn’t in the works for me, obviously, so I worked some and saved like crazy. Then, I took out a shit ton of loans and managed to graduate by the skin my teeth. Fortunately, Rocket X was profitable within the first few years, but it was fucking rough. There was a period when I lived on food stamps, and was barely able to make payroll each week. Those were dark times.”
Ella’s eyes are empathetic.
“But it’s important that you remember how it used to be,” she says quietly, “when you had nothing. Now, you’re paying it forward.”
“I do remember,” I acknowledge in a grim voice. “All too well, unfortunately, and that’s why the trappings of wealth are just that to me – trappings. They have no real meaning because they’re nice to have, sure, but it’s nothing concrete. The important stuff goes on in here,” I say, pointing to my head. “That’s where the real money’s made.”
Ella plush pout parts a bit, and it looks like she’s going to say something, but then her lips close and she nods.
“I see,” she murmurs. “Got it.”
There’s obviously something hidden within her manner, but I turn and continue the tour. Ella’s under my care now, and there will be more than enough time to tease out her thoughts on my past. But for the moment, I want to get the young woman situated and comfortable because she’s pregnant. Ella looks a bit peaked, and my strides grow faster as we move down the hallway. Finally, I stop before a door and open it to reveal a lovely suite done up in cream and beige. There are windows along one wall, as well as a four poster bed with a fluffy duvet that resembles a cloud, as well as deep pile carpet that bounces back when stepped on. Another door leads to a small sitting room done up in florals, and a second door leads to a marble en suite with a separate bath and shower.
“This is yours,” I say in a deep tone. “Harris has already unpacked your belongings and stowed them away.” But then, realization hits when I see a lone small suitcase in the corner. “Is that all you came with?” I ask, gesturing to the puny roller board. “That’s all?”
Ella laughs gently.
“Yes, that’s all I have,” she says with a smile. “Housekeepers don’t need much because we wear uniforms on the job. And I wasn’t exactly going out and partying in my state,” she says in a rueful tone while one hand rests on her burgeoning belly. I frown.
“Well, that’s not going to work.”
She tilts her head at me in the cutest way, her blonde bun gleaming neatly in the afternoon sun from the window. She looks haloed and angelic, actually, with the way the light picks up from behind her.
“Why not?” she queries.
I frown again, my dark mood intensifying.
“Because you’re accompanying me to functions while we’re here in New York,” I bark. “Whatever clothes you have aren’t going to work. We’ll need to go shopping. And you’re not serving as a housekeeper while you’re here, Ella. I have staff for that. It’s your job to sit back, kick your feet up, and focus on taking care of yourself because you’re pregnant.”
Red spots begin to burn on her cheeks again.
“I am taking care of myself, and my clothes are fine,” Ella states in a slightly stilted tone, although she’s attempting to sound civil. “I don’t need you to buy me anything, much less clothing. I have plenty, and the baby just needs some basics—”
I cut her off.
“You’re accompanying me to social events while you’re here,” I say in a tone that brooks no dissent. “For that, new clothes will be necessary.”
Ella’s stubborn though, her pointed chin set.
“I appreciate the invitation, but there’s no need for me to mix with your crowd, Nick. You’re a billionaire and a fixture in New York high society. Meanwhile, I’m a housekeeper. A maid, even. I know I’m pregnant with your child, but there’s no need to make things awkward in front of your friends and business associates. I’ll stay out of sight while you go out.”
Those words make my hackles raise. Does she think that I’m embarrassed to introduce her to the jet set crowd? Yes, the women can be catty and nasty, but they won’t dare to say a word if they know that Ella’s with me.