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Might as well make an effort with Eileen to please my mother. Even if I felt like dying before doing it.
“That’s fine. Let her in when she arrives. I’ll take care of it.”
“Really? You never accept anyone unannounced.”
I did not answer Natalie.
She shook her head, huffing. “Every woman in this zip code would die to have your attention, and you only have eyes for your mother. What a travesty.”
“Watch your mouth, Miss Mikaylov, unless you’re eager to lose your job.”
Natalie remained standing in the middle of the room like an out-of-place piece of furniture you had to keep because a close relative had gifted it to you.
There seemed to be more she wanted to say, but the idea that I was paying her an hourly rate to try to convince me to marry her instead of spending the money on something more useful—like dry cleaning or getting Oliver’s Cane Corso’s anal glands expressed—rubbed me the wrong way.
I plucked a translucent sliver of budo ebi from the sashimi plate, bringing it to my lips.
Too warm.
“Will that be all, Miss Mikaylov?”
For a reason unfathomable to me, I nursed the foolish hope that she’d tell me Farrow had tried to set the house on fire, auction my entire art collection, or otherwise commit a heinous crime on my property.
Something to give me an excuse to seek Miss Ballantine out and breathe fire at her blizzard existence.
But Natalie merely exhaled again, head bowed.
“No, sir, that will be all.”
She retreated with the cart, leaving me with a surprise date I did not want and a low-security dating agency server to hack into.
Ollie vB:
Dinner tonight?
Zach Sun:
Busy. Pass.
Zach Sun:
Especially if you plan on showing up in the same shirt as last time…
Ollie vB:
What? Ashamed to walk beside me as I rock my wife pleaser?
Romeo Costa:
Wife pleaser?
Ollie vB:
It’s a wife beater but rebranded with better PR.
Zach Sun:
It should be burned.
