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It’s very masculine. There’s a larger master bedroom with an ensuite, a small den with a comfortable-looking leather sofa, and a large flat-screen TV. The fourth room has a small gym with a treadmill, a weights machine, and a boxing bag.
“You’ll only come up here to clean, and only when Connor says it’s okay.” Paddy’s tone makes me shiver, and I start nodding quickly.
“Call me! I want to hear how you’re getting on!” Low exclaims, wrapping me into a tight hug. Paddy glowers at me over her shoulder.
“You’ll not be talking about any of Connor’s personal business, lass. Even to us.”
“Of course not!” I squeak, my eyes wide as I swallow painfully. “I’ll talk to Low about chores and stuff. Cleaning. Baking. That stuff.”
Paddy nods slowly, sliding his hand into Low’s, squeezing her fingers as they leave. Blowing out a slow breath, I turn with wide eyes, drinking in the sight again.
Slowly walking back up to the second story, my eyes sweep over my new digs to unpack my suitcases. The bathroom across the hall from me has a huge shower/bathtub combo, which I amsotrying out some time.
Once I’ve unpacked and stowed my suitcases under the bed, I wander back down to the kitchen to check out what’s in the fridge and cupboards.
The whole place looks like it was deep cleaned yesterday. It’s very tidy for a mobster. Apart from Paddy, I’ve never spent much time with any mobsters. I only met a few of the briefly at Low’s wedding. I may have encountered this “Connor,” who is my new boss, but I can’t put a face to the name, so it was very brief if I did.
As I close the stainless steel refrigerator door and turn around, I jump and give a small scream, pressing my hands to my heart. A man is standing in the doorway of the hall.
He is leaning against the doorjamb with his hands shoved into his pockets while silently staring at me. Oh, I hope this is Connor because otherwise, that’s justcreepy.
He has thick ashy blonde hair, a strong jaw, and smoldering gray bedroom eyes. He’s wearing a dark gray suit with a crisp white button-down shirt, open at the neck, and his black dress shoes are shined to the max.
Even though he’s dressed all slick, his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful build screamdanger. He’s plain yummy.
“I-I’m Andie Halpern,” I stammer, still clasping my hands over my heart.
“Connor Fitzpatrick,” he rumbles back in a deep, gravelly voice that has my stomach clenching.
Of course, I’ve gone and gotten a live-in job with the world’s most gorgeous man. It’s exactly my freaking luck.
