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I don’t blame her. This transition is probably a lot to adjust to. It must be odd for her, living in a stranger’s home.
Not that I’m a stranger. I’ve seen more of her than probably anyone else…
Well, not seen. Felt.
The image that creeps into my head makes me dizzy. Despite trying not to, I can’t help but picture her naked. I close my eyes and shake my head. I need some coffee. And stricter rules for myself.
I walk toward the kitchen. Robin must still be asleep. Once I prepare our meal, I’ll wake her. We need to head in to work together. I need to keep her under my care at all times until the Abatos nonsense is sorted.
When I step into the kitchen, I expect to be alone. But to my surprise, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee invades my senses. Robin stands by the counter with her back to me as she pours coffee into her mug.
My gaze drifts down the curve of her spine. I can’t help it. She’s wearing the tightest black pencil skirt, and it’s working for her, especially with those heels. Memories of how I explored every inch of her soft skin flood my mind. I want to take herthen and there against that counter. I clench my jaw, cursing the effect she has on me. It had been a mistake to seduce her, no matter how willing she'd been. Now, I can't stop thinking about the taste of her lips and the sounds of her pleasured cries.
I step forward, and a floorboard creaks. She gasps and turns, placing a hand on her chest, taking my eyes with her. That white button-down has come undone from the top, and I can see her cleavage.
I avert my gaze instantly. “Good morning,” I say gruffly.
She faces away to pour me a cup before walking over. "Coffee?"
I accept the mug she offers, our fingers brushing. Sparks shoot up my arm, and I bite back a groan. This is torture. "You should not have bothered. I pay you to handle paperwork, not serve coffee."
Her eyes narrow, a flash of hurt passing over her face before she relaxes her features. "My apologies, Mr. Zolotov. I'll be sure to limit my duties to only what is required in the future. But I thought it was basic civic sense since I am staying in your house.”
I grimace inwardly, regretting my harsh words, but it’s better this way. I can't afford distractions, no matter how tempting. Especially not when things have become so complicated.
I try to change the topic.
"Are you ready for your first day?" I ask, eager to move past the tension.
She lifts her chin, determination etched into her expression. "Yes, of course. And thank you for these," she motions at her outfit and does a little twirl.
“It was no trouble,” I say, forgetting that I had even asked my personal shopper to get her a full wardrobe while she lives here.
I grab a banana from the counter and motion at her to walk out with me when she stops me. “What about breakfast?” she asks.
Breakfast. I’m so not myself around her. I completely forgot.
“Well,” she motions at the table I hadn’t noticed. “I made some.”
She pulls out a chair, and I take it. I can’t believe the spread in front of us: pancakes, smoothies, perfectly cut fruits, eggs, and bacon.
“You did all this?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s no big deal,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.
She hands me a plate and begins to serve me like it’s second nature to her. But I stop her. “I’ve got it,” I say before filling my plate.
She has a bite of the bacon and then stops. She doesn’t eat any more.
“If you weren’t hungry, why did you go to all this effort?” I inquire, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“I just thought I would since it’s our first day at work together,” she says and then looks away. “Plus, I've been cooking breakfast for Adam since he was just a toddler.”
“How old were you when you started caring for Adam?”
“I was fifteen when my mother passed,” her voice falters.
My heart breaks. Fifteen. She was just a child herself.
