Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“How are you feeling?” Harper asked, coming close to him.
He looked at his near-empty glass of whiskey and shrugged. “Fucked over.”
She let out a wince, and he laughed.
“You don’t like me cussing?”
“It’s not that, I’m guessing it hurts really bad. I’ve never been shot, but I can imagine it’s not like being tickled.” Her hands were clenched at her sides, and he couldn’t stop looking at her.
She wore the maid’s uniform he’d provided her, and this one was a little oversized, as it kept falling from her shoulder. It also didn’t show off the body he knew she possessed. Harper was a hardworking woman.
“This has nothing to do with the bullet wound,” he said. “Murphy attempted to kill me today.”
Her mouth fell open, and it was kind of funny to watch. She was clearly surprised.
“Murphy? As in our Murphy? The cook?”
“You’re going to need to take care of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Also, you’re the only person working here from now on.” He finished off his whiskey, and his stomach started to rumble. He was starving.
“Wait, what? I’m the only one working here?”
“You’re the only one who is reliable and has proven herself. Your job is to take care of everything in the house.”
“There’s no way I can do that. You had hundreds of staff!”
“I had five, six, if I include you.”
Harper frowned. “Only five?”
“There are not a lot of people I trust.”
“I seriously thought it was more than that.” She had a hand on her hip, and with the other she rubbed at her temple. “I can’t believe he would do this. Murphy adored you.”
Enzo snorted. “Not enough to not betray me.”
“Are you saying Murphy is dead?” Harper asked.
“Why? Was he your lover?” He knew he wasn’t.
She frowned. “What? No. Your stomach is rumbling, and even though I can cook to feed myself, I’m not exactly an award-winning chef!”
“Neither was Murphy. He was just damn good at what he did.”
“I don’t know what you like or dislike. Are you allergic to anything?”
“Go and cook me breakfast. I’m not a fussy eater.”
He loved the cute look of defiance she shot his way. That look on anyone else, he’d question, but on Harper, it was just cute. She’d proven time and again that he could trust her.
She spun away, and he watched her leave and couldn’t help admire the roundness of her ass. When her father, Bradley, offered her services, he’d not been interested. However, Bradley was the kind of pest you needed to swat down to get rid of. The moment he saw Harper’s picture he’d been intrigued, mainly to see if the daughter was anything like her father. Also, he wanted a reason to kill Bradley.
Harper hadn’t given him a damn thing. He wondered if Harper even knew her father offered her up on a plate. There was no mistaking the father’s intention.
“My daughter is a good girl. She will do exactly what you want, if you need her to cook and clean, or just stand there. You can beat her as well, and you can fuck her. Use her to your heart’s content.”
She’d been eighteen years old. Enzo was no fool and knew women could be monsters and evil at eighteen, at any age. He’d witnessed it with his own eyes. There was something in the photograph Bradley showed him. He needed to know if he was right.
Of course, he’d been right. Staring back at him had been a vulnerable and somewhat terrified woman. Harper needed to get away from her parents. It’s why he paid a fortune for her, certainly over the limit of any maid that was paid for a live-in service. She should have a lot saved up, seeing as he knew she didn’t spend a single cent.
The pain in his arm was starting to bother him. Kent offered him some pain relief, but he refused to take it. Too many good men had gotten lost by attempting to find their relief from pain. He always just handled it. Besides, it would fade. Most pain faded. The true pain that stayed never went away.
He made his way into the kitchen to keep an eye on Harper. She’d proven herself, but he’d yet to see her cook. She already had a couple of frying pans on top of the stove, and bacon was in one. He loved his bacon extra crispy. In the other pan, she melted some butter. He hated runny eggs. She whisked the eggs in another bowl, in between swirling butter in the pan.
He took a seat at the kitchen counter and saw her hesitate for a second before pouring the beaten eggs into the pan. She immediately grabbed a spatula, started to move the eggs around, and he watched them start to set and wiggle as she moved them. With her other hand, she grabbed a pair of tongs and flipped the bacon over so it would crisp on the other side. The color looked exactly how he liked it.