AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ugh.
Even referring to him as The Bastard was becoming problematic these days.
He really wasn’t half as much of a bastard as he was two or three weeks ago. A part of me was beginning to feel guilty for referring to him such a way, but I was sure that wouldn’t last long.
After all, it was only Friday afternoon. There were two and half days until we were officially working. What were the chances he would be able to go that long without asking me to do something secretarial?
It was lower given that we were living together, but I didn’t have the most hope for a quiet weekend.
Auntie Pat left us with a bright smile, an enthusiastic wave, and a reminder of the magnetic notepad on the front of the fridge for us to communicate with her. She said it was for anything from a shopping list to a request for cleaning to be done. I’d smiled and nodded at the time, but I think she knew it wasn’t something I was comfortable with.
It was crazy. I was no stranger to the aristocracy—I’d worked for Black Ink Corporation since I was eighteen and gone full-time right out of university at twenty-one. From that point until I’d become Theodore’s assistant, my boss had been his grandfather.
The Duke of Ruxleigh.
I’d attended endless events, handled bottomless media requests, and learnt the etiquette of the upper class as if I were in training to become a duchess myself, but it’d never come to this. I’d never visited an aristocratic estate for longer than an evening, and I’d certainly never found myself in this situation where there was someone happy and willing to serve me.
It was like hotel housekeeping on steroids.
And I…
Well, I wasn’t exactly comfortable about relying on other people to do things for me. My parents’ car accident when I was thirteen had done a number on my ability to depend on other people, and even though Aunt Fizz, Uncle Jay, and Harvey had fully embraced me as a member of their family, I’d never truly been able to open up.
I’d done my own laundry since the day I moved in with them, and the moment I’d gotten a part-time job at fifteen, I’d tried to pay rent. They’d never taken a penny, but that hadn’t stopped me trying to pay back the debt my younger self had felt I owed them.
The feelings had persisted even after I’d graduated from university and started at Black Ink Corporation full-time with Harvey. Aunt Fizz and Uncle Jay had covered almost all our shared rent—that was what happened when your paternal aunt became your guardian and married a richy-rich man. Unfortunately for me, all that’d done to my young mind was indebt me towards them.
Either way, the last time anyone had bought me any groceries was the very day me and Harvey had moved into our two-bed flat after I’d graduated. After that, I’d taken control of our meals and groceries to make his life easier. He was older than me, and it was no big deal to look after him in that way.
Maybe that was why I hadn’t batted an eyelid when Theodore had told me he couldn’t cook.
I was far better at serving people than I was being served.
Would it be nice to have someone cook my meals and do my laundry? Sure. Was it realistically something I would be comfortable with? No, probably not.
Also, I really, really didn’t want other people washing my panties. Or bras. Nobody needed to see those greying monstrosities.
That said, once in a while was no bad thing, and I was extremely grateful for Auntie Pat’s foresight today. Although I did drive a lot, I wasn’t used to driving such long distances, and I was nothing short of exhausted right now.
I saved Auntie Pat’s number to my phone and stared at the kitchen. It had every amenity one could possibly dream of, but the only thing I cared about right now was that monstrous coffee machine in the corner by the fridge.
I had to figure out how to use it and fix the settings so Theodore wouldn’t lose his mind over crappy coffee every morning.
“You’re staring at that coffee machine like it’s a riddle you must crack.”
I jolted, twisting around to look at him. “Ah, I’m just wondering if there’s a manual in the drawers anywhere.”
“For the coffee machine?”
No.
For the oven.
Obviously, I wanted one for the coffee machine.
“You’re quite fussy with your morning coffee, sir,” I said, turning my attention back to the machine. “Rest assured that spending an hour figuring out how to use this machine today is for my benefit rather than yours.”
“You make it sound like I’m a demon without my morning caffeine.”
