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It was huge, fancier even than La Vigneta, and I had no idea whatsoever what to do when the doorman left me alone there.
“Well, you’ve got the whole week to figure it out,” I murmured, feeling a little stupid for talking out loud to myself but also a little less overwhelmed and alone. Then I remembered what the driver had said, and—grateful to have something simple to do—I looked around for an outlet to plug my new charger in, then remembered that I should probably put away the bag of sandwiches, so cautiously wandered deeper into the apartment, looking for the kitchen.
I found it, and… wow. It took me a minute to find the refrigerator since it didn’t look like a normal one, it just looked like part of the wall, but I finally did and tucked the bag of sandwiches inside, figuring Callum wouldn’t mind me finishing them later since they’d go bad by the time he got back to town. There was a bunch of other food in the fridge, too, but he hadn’t said I could eat anything—he hadn’t given me any instructions at all, really—so I figured I’d better not touch it.
Which reminded me, so far, I’d managed to keep showing up for my shifts at the restaurant, and I had another one later today. I knew my uniform was getting pretty bad though, since it was the only clothes I had now, and the last time I’d worked a couple of days ago, my boss had told me in no uncertain terms that he expected me to look more presentable next time.
Maybe now I could, if there was a washer and dryer here. Or if not, I could maybe figure out how to hand-wash my clothes? And, um, huh. Could clothes be dried in a microwave? Because Callum had one of those. Maybe once my phone was charged again, I could google that.
Which reminded me, I needed to plug in my phone.
My hands trembled as I opened the package for the new charger. Dumb, I know, but every day since I’d run out of my mom’s boyfriend’s apartment last week had felt like I was falling down a deeper and deeper hole, and I hadn’t known how to get out of it. Having my phone die on me had felt like being cut off from any chance of ever figuring it out, and once I managed to finally open the dang thing and saw the little lightning bolt symbol appear on my phone’s screen, my knees wobbled, and I sat right down on the floor, my eyes tearing up.
“Okay,” I said, hugging my arms around myself. “It will be okay now. Callum said so.”
It had been the last thing he’d said to me as he’d gotten out at the airport. He’d cupped my face and stared into my eyes, making me feel like I was actually precious to him even though that was ridiculous, since we’d just met. And he’d called me sweetheart again, promising that everything would work out, right before he’d—
A sharp knock on the door startled me, and I scrambled to my feet, my heart racing.
I had no idea if I was supposed to answer it or not, I had no idea what I was supposed to do at all, but then I heard the sound of a key turning in a lock, followed by the sharp click of heels.
“Mr. Davis?” a woman’s voice called out, a moment before a supermodel walked into the kitchen.
My heart sank. She was really, really beautiful, and she had a key to Callum’s apartment.
I guess I’d thought, what with all the things that had been said at the restaurant and the way I felt when he looked at me, not to mention the kiss he’d pressed to my forehead before he’d left to catch his plane, I’d thought he was gay, even if it was still a stretch of my imagination to think all those different moments might add up to someone like him actually being into me.
“Hi,” I said, not sure how else to greet Callum’s girlfriend.
She looked me up and down, cocking her head to the side, then grinned, making a dimple pop out in her cheek and turning her about a thousand times less scary. “Hi there. I have to say, you’re not at all what I expected when I received Mr. Moore’s instructions.”
“Mr. Moore?” I repeated, confused. “That’s what you call him?”
She lifted one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Of course. It’s his name. What do you call him?”
“Oh, um… just Callum, I guess. Or sir.”
I definitely wasn’t going to admit that I’d called him Hot Daddy in my head when I’d first seen him. And, well, even after that, because he was.
“Well, you can call me Andrea,” she said, her eyes sharpening with interest. “And you can also offer me a cup of coffee, since we’ve got a lot to do today.”
“I… what?” I looked around the intimidating kitchen. “Don’t you know where it is?”
She grinned again, the appearance of her dimple acting like some kind of magic that took away some of my nerves. “Of course I do, Mr. Davis. I know where everything is. It’s one of the things Mr. Moore pays me for. But since you’re his special guest...”
I shook my head, more confused than ever. “No, I’m just his house sitter. Um, and it’s Dash? You don’t have to call me Mr. Davis. Also, he pays you?”
“I’m one of his personal assistants, Dash,” she said, setting down the stylish bag she’d walked in with and stepping around me to pull a box of little coffee pods out of one of the cupboards. “He asked me to come by and make sure you have everything you need, get your employment paperwork started, and ‘take care of you,’ which is a direct quote.”
I blinked. “You’re not his girlfriend?”
She popped a coffee pod into a shiny black machine, then turned to face me, her eyes sparkling. “Not in the slightest.”
“Oh,” I said, looking down quick so that she’d hopefully miss the big smile that gave me.
Still dumb, since it was a crazy fantasy to think he might want me the way I’d been imagining just because he’d been so nice to me, but I couldn’t help being at least a little bit happy that he wasn’t already taken. Or at least, not by her.
But maybe she’d know if he had a girlfriend? Or… or a boyfriend?
