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‘Mrs. Montoya,’ he snapped.
Of course. I’d only ever heard them call him Mr. Montoya, or Boss. They never used his first name.
‘I’m not Mrs. Montoya,’ I started to say and saw him scowl at me. ‘I mean, it makes me sound like your mom. And it’s too formal.’
‘It’s kind of supposed to be, isn’t it? They’re the staff.’
‘They’re your staff. But to me, they’re the people I spend most of my days and nights with,’ I replied.
I wondered if he was going to reprimand me. He was so bloody serious and had so many rules. But there was no way I was going to insist on Magda, Jacob and Hugo calling me Mrs. Montoya.
He stared at me for a few moments and was about to reply when our waiter brought the wine. When Alejandro had tasted it and confirmed it was to his liking, our waiter poured us each a glass.
I took a sip, expecting it to taste like pretty much any other red wine I had ever had, but I was surprised to find it was the most incredible wine I’d ever tasted. Rich and warm, with hints of chocolate and cherry. It almost justified its eight hundred dollar price tag.
‘So, how was your shopping trip?’ Alejandro asked as I was still savoring the aftertaste of the Rioja.
‘Good,’ I nodded as I put my glass on the table.
It had been a surprise earlier that morning when Jacob had handed me a small white envelope. It had contained a credit card, and a note on Alejandro’s personal stationery instructing me to buy whatever I needed to make his house feel more like my own. I had called him to say thank you and ask how much I was allowed to spend, and he had told me that he didn’t care, as though money meant nothing to him.
It even made me wonder if he had a heart in there after all — if only for a brief moment.
‘You said you got what you needed?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What did you buy?’ he took a sip of his wine and eyed me over the rim of his glass.
‘Just some stuff,’ I blushed. I didn’t want to tell him that I’d bought ketchup and candy.
‘What stuff?’ he pressed. ‘Am I going to come home to twelve new sofas and a new four poster bed?’
‘No. I didn’t buy anything like that,’ I snapped.
‘So, what did you buy?’
‘If you must know, I bought some bubble-bath, ketchup and candy. Oh, and my favorite tea. A new pillow as I don’t like the ones on your bed. A couple of picture frames and some candles.’
‘That’s what you bought to make you feel at home?’ he asked with an arch of one eyebrow.
‘Yes,’ I said suddenly feeling embarrassed by my simple tastes in front of this man who thought nothing of ordering an eight hundred dollar bottle of wine with dinner.
‘Why didn’t you just ask for them to be put on the grocery list?’
‘Because there was nothing wrong with the brands you have in your house. But when I thought about what things would make your house feel more like my home, they were the things that I thought of.’
He frowned at me and I suddenly felt the need to explain myself.
‘That brand of ketchup is what my grandma used to use when I was a kid. It reminds me of her house, and that was always where I was happiest. I love English breakfast tea in the mornings. The tea you have doesn’t taste as tea-like.’
‘Not as tea-like?’ he asked as the corners of his mouth curled into a smile.
I shook my head in frustration and went on. ‘That bubble bath is the one my grandpa used to buy me every Christmas, it always makes me think of him. The candles are jasmine and that’s my favorite smell in the world. I like a nice firm pillow, and the ones in your bed are too soft. The candy was just because I love candy and there is never any in your house. And the picture frames are to put a couple of pictures of my family in. Happy now?’
He stared at me and I couldn’t read what was going through his head at all.
Did he think I was an idiot? Well, I didn’t care if he did. They were the kinds of things that mattered to me — not sofas and four poster beds.
