Chapter 5 First Day at Work

I woke up before my alarm.

First days demanded that kind of discipline-especially when the job came with a mansion and a billionaire I hadn't met yet.

Mr. Ford had mentioned the boss left early and returned late, so if I wanted to make a good impression, breakfast was my best shot.

I showered quickly...the last one I'd take in this apartment-then dressed in the clothes I'd laid out the night before. My bags were already packed. I grabbed the smaller one first. The important one.

My violin.

A few personal things no one was allowed to touch and then without looking back I left. Not like I was going to miss this horrible place.

By 6:54 a.m., I was standing inside the mansion.

After dropping my things in my new room, I headed straight for the kitchen.

Black coffee. No milk.

Pancakes-golden, neat, perfect.

I arranged everything carefully on a tray and made my way upstairs.

At the boss's door, I knocked.

No response.

"Sir, your breakfast," I called.

"Leave it by the bedside table."

His voice was deep. Calm. Powerful.

It carried authority like it was breathing.

I swallowed and did exactly that.

Back downstairs, I cleaned the kitchen, then took advantage of the quiet to explore. The place was massive-too massive. A pool. A table tennis court. A field big enough to host a football match.

Then I found the garden.

Beautiful-but abandoned. Flowers fighting weeds. Roses growing wild like they'd stopped asking permission to exist.

I picked one and added revive the garden to my mental to-do list.

By the time I returned to my room, my things had arrived. I unpacked quickly-clothes, shoes, books hidden carefully where no one could accidentally discover my embarrassing taste in novels.

Three hours later, I was done.

The boss had left.

Time to clean his room.

I knocked. Once. Then twice.

Nothing.

Inside, the breakfast tray sat empty by the bed. I took it to the kitchen, washed it, then returned with cleaning supplies.

The bed sheets were a mess-rumpled, stained, unmistakably used.

I refused to think too hard about that.

Fresh sheets. Vacuum. Windows.

One window faced the garden.

Interesting.

Laundry basket in hand, I stepped back into the hallway-and promptly got lost.

I was scanning doors when a firm hand stopped me.

"What are you doing?"

I turned to find an elderly woman eyeing me suspiciously.

"I'm the new maid," I said quickly. "I'm looking for the laundry room."

Her expression softened instantly.

"Ah. Come."

As we walked, she explained the emptiness of the house-the staff were busy preparing for the arrival of the boss's sister.

That explained a lot.

I thanked her once we reached the laundry room and finished up quickly.

By lunchtime, I was starving. I made something simple, then started dinner.

Spaghetti.

If the boss came home.

If he didn't... well, rich people were unpredictable.

Before heading back down, I made a few calls.

Jordan. Anna. Debbie.

Life updates. Mild scolding. Familiar voices grounding me.

By 10:13 p.m., dinner sat untouched.

At 10:45, the front door opened.

Lights flicked on.

I stood.

And forgot how to breathe.

Fucking hell.

Tall. Broad. Sharp jaw. Dangerous eyes that took in everything and gave nothing back.

No man should look that good at night.

"Welcome, Mr-"

"Vincenzo."

Of course it was.

"I made dinn-"

He raised a hand.

"If I want food, I'll call you. Go to bed."

The words were flat. Final.

Rude.

"Yes, sir."

He walked away without another glance.

I let out a breath-and accidentally laughed.

"Did I say something funny?"

I froze.

His glare could kill.

"No, sir," I said quickly.

He stared at me a second longer than necessary, then took a step towards me, for some reason I wasn't scared I just stood there watching him.

"What's your name again?" He asked coldly.

"Katherine...Katherine Westbrook." I said, trying not to melt under his icy glare.

"One thing I do not tolerate is insolence...you're here to work...do that and know your place."

Oh wow just because I laughed. I wanted to say but I swallowed the words down.

"Yes...yes sir."

Without another word, he turned and disappeared down the hall.

Well.

That went... terribly.

I ate the spaghetti on the kitchen floor. It was amazing. Anyone who missed out-that was their loss.

Footsteps approached.

"Miss Westbrook?"

Mr. Ford.

I jumped up, suddenly aware of how ridiculous I must have looked. He only chuckled, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and left without comment.

I cleaned up and finally collapsed into bed.

First day survived.

Handsome. Grumpy. Powerful boss.

What could possibly go wrong?

I was here to work, to save money, to stay invisible.

Romance with the employer? Career suicide. Life suicide.

I'd never be that stupid.

Never.