I watch her march away, amusement thrumming through me. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a bossy bitch?” I call after her.
“Annabelle has. Many times,” she throws back at me, and I find myself chuckling. She’s seriously pushy when she’s trying to be in charge, and I can’t say I dislike it.
After a few minutes, she returns with a light sweater and some jeans for me, and she helps me get into them. I feel ridiculous having to lean on her so heavily, but I’m seriously weak.
She straightens, giving me an assessing stare as the elevator dings. “Shall I go greet him?”
“Yeah, thanks. His name’s Charlie, and he’s a pain in the ass.”
She disappears around the corner, and I listen to the sound of hushed voices drifting through the hall toward me.
I feel myself stiffen immediately as he appears. My brother’s eyes are alive with interest as he laughs at something Amelia has said.
Charlie is twenty-nine, much closer to Amelia’s age than me, and has a way with the ladies. Jealousy rises like a cobra, and I have to fight the ridiculous urge to throw him out of the apartment.
“You look beautiful,” he says teasingly to me as he dumps a bag on my kitchen counter. “Except for the fact that your face has the complexion of a ghost.”
“Wow, thanks, Charlie.”
Amelia laughs as she goes back into the kitchen. “You want some food, Charlie?” she asks. “I made too much.”
Charlie grins. “Definitely.” Then he looks at me and lowers his voice. “Uh, who’s the goddess?”
“She’s my executive assistant. Roll your tongue back in.”
His eyes follow Amelia discreetly around the kitchen. “Oh my God, I would getnothingdone.”
“Would you shut your mouth?” I growl, and he jumps up onto the barstool next to me as Amelia places two steaming bowls of soup in front of us with some sourdough bread on the side.
Charlie takes a deep inhale. “Wow. That smells awesome.”
“Thanks,” Amelia says, handing me a spoon. “It’s a recipe I’ve perfected over the years. This kitchen is amazing to cook in.”
I smile, liking that she approves of my home. My eyes linger on her hair as she goes back to the sink.
When I glance at Charlie, he’s watching me curiously, his eyes flicking to Amelia and back to me.
“So, how long have you worked for my brother?” he says, turning to Amelia. “I bet he’s an asshole of a boss, right?”
“Charlie,” I say warningly.
“About three weeks,” Amelia replies, “and he has his moments.”
I stare at her. “Excuse me? I have mymoments?” I exclaim.
“Well, you can be kind of…abruptwhen you need someone to do something for you. I don’t think you’ve said please or thank you to me since I started.”
“That tracks,” Charlie says with a grin. “Lucas thinks everyone was born to do his bidding.”
“I do not,” I say, sounding like a four-year-old, and raise my eyes to the ceiling when my brother throws his head back and belly laughs.
“I can tell he’s not feeling good; he’s usually better at comebacks than this.”
We both taste the soup for the first time, and I glance at him. Charlie and I are used to the best food New York has to offer, not to mention my mother’s excellent cooking, but I can tell by his expression that he’s just as surprised as I am. This is the best soup I’ve ever tasted.
“Holy shit,” Charlie says. “This is incredible. You’re wasting your talents working for my brother. You should own your own restaurant.”
“Thanks,” she says, blushing a little.
