PRINCESS AND THE BILLIONAIRE
1
Gray sweatpants clinging to my thighs, I run up the steps and enter my house, my butler, Gerald, quietly closing the door behind me. I head straight for the kitchen, where my housekeeper is pouring milk into my coffee cup. She places it on the table and pulls out a chair for me, her unruly hair tucked neatly under an elaborate wrap.
A strand escaped, and I tuck it under the scarf, then kiss her forehead. “You taking off?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Anytime.”
Mika’s husband’s cancer advanced rapidly, and she’s worked all through the year of it, never once mentioning she’s dealing with personal stuff. The second I found out, I placed her on leave until she’s ready to return. Unfortunately, it won’t be long before she returns.
“Call me,” I say, then hydrate after my run before sitting down for my morning coffee.
Mika’s already gone out the door, and I didn’t hear a response. I open the window. “Mika!”
She startles and turns.
I smile. “I said call me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’tyes sirme and then not call.”
She salutes. I shake my head. Mika has a penchant for taking on everyone’s problems, including her son’s, daughter’s, and her niece’s daughter. Case in point, she took custody of her niece’s five-year-old a few months ago. I’ve taken it upon myself to take care of Mika. It’s only natural. I’m her boss, and she’s worked for me for over a decade.
“She won’t call,” Gerald says from the counter as I sit at the table.
I eye him over my coffee cup and sip. Mmmm. Hazelnut creamer this morning.
“Do you want to cover the lawyer fees from the child custody mess?” he asks.
“Have I not offered to cover them?”
“Not yet.”
He takes care of the house and the people in it, making me look good and charitable. Which I am for the right people, just not all the people. I don’t have time for all the people requiring my time, and if it’s not related to business, I’ll likely forget and regret it later. I don’t want to regret, and Gerald knows that. “Thank you, Gerald.”
He nods. “Anytime, sir.”
Opening my laptop, I sip my coffee.
Gerald clears his throat, folding his wrinkled hands in front of him.
“Is there something else?” I ask while checking my email.
“Ms. Hellway is well.”
I lean back, put the cup down, and cross my arms over my chest. “And?”
“And nothing, sir.” Gerald exits the kitchen.
“When does she normally come down?” I ask.
“Around eight.”
Good. I’ll get some work done before my wife of three weeks joins me. A day after our wedding, I left for Japan for a business trip I scheduled over a year ago, which gave her the house for herself so that she could enjoy it in solitude and get to know everyone.
