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“So they say.” He stared at me for a second, a small smile curving his lips as he reached over, running a finger over the crest of my cheek where a particularly gnarly bruise was still blossoming. That felt way too good for a little whisper of a touch. “You’re looking better,” he rasped, making me wonder if that touch affected him just as much as it did me.
“Few more days,” I confirmed huskily, “and they’ll be gone.”
“A distant memory.” His eyes darkened for a moment, like he was thinking of my father, then they cleared as the sound of pots clanking in the kitchen echoed into the living room. “Oh, shit. Winnie’s here.”
Before I had a chance to say a word, he grabbed my hand and tugged me into the kitchen.
“Winnie? I’d like you to meet Inessa.”
“Why, what a pleasure it is to meet you, Inessa!”
The sweet tone stunned me, but the calculating gleam in the bitch’s eyes told me that I’d lost this round. Fuck, I’d overplayed my hand.
“A pleasure, yeah,” I said gruffly, even as I wanted to kick myself for being so myopic as to warn her about tattling on her to Eoghan if she treated me badly. Of course, she was going to be kind in front of him so that if I did snitch on her, Eoghan would think I was making it up.
Old bitch.
“Winnie handles everything in the apartment, Inessa. From the food to the chores, so whatever you need, just tell her, and she deals with it. If things get to be too much for you, Winnie, with the extra work, tell Inessa, and she’ll see about hiring someone else.” His smile was kind. “Inessa needs some berries for our morning shake—”
“Raspberries, blueberries, and strawberries.” I tipped my chin up as I shot the housekeeper a false smile. “I’ll make you a list.”
And whatever the hell she bought, I’d wash it.
Twice.
