A Millionaire's Maid

 

Author’s note:

I have changed my pen name to Dream_Jewel, and this is going to be my pen name forever.



@Lisa: Delighted to hear your comments dear. My tummy growled when I was writing the pancake scene. Glad you liked the kiss scene. Thanks allot for the review!



@river girl: Delighted to hear that you’re liking my story. Thanks allot for the review!



Thank you note to those who voted, and readers.



This chapter is beta’d by Lovely Lisa.



Shane’s P.O.V:



“Dinner is ready.” The familiar voice makes me break away from the kiss.



“Who is this boy?” Clarissa asks, as I push her away as if her kiss burns my lips.



“ Kian, my new live-in maid,” I answer trying to catch my breath, she is a damn good kisser.



I don’t know how I ended up kissing her. All I remember is staring at her lips, then my instinct taking over me when she kissed me. But for some odd reason, Kian kept flashing through my mind. When I closed my eyes continuing to kiss her, I felt as if I was kissing him. When I heard his voice, that’s when I realized it wasn’t him who I was kissing. I don’t know why but I feel guilty. Damn, I think I need a good lay to get him out of my mind. I am sure she will be more than willing to cooperate with me.



“Doesn’t he have any manners? Didn’t he see that we were busy? A servant should know when to speak, and when to keep quiet,” Clarissa says, and grunts.



The plan I had for her after dinner just got erased when I hear her say that. I just want to haul her ass out of my home right now, but that will be inept for me to do that.



“ Clarissa darling! He is an amateur; he is yet to learn the ways of a servant. Forgive him, won’t you do that for me darling?” I feel the bitter taste on my tongue when I call her darling, an even more bitter taste when I said the word servant.



“If it’s for you sweetheart, then I would definitely forgive him.” Clarissa states.



“Come on, let’s have a dinner,” I say as I stand up. I am in no mood to touch her now.



She looks bemused, and blinks several times. I bend down, and whisper into her ears, “For good things we have to wait; Come on! Let’s have dinner!”



I take her hand and head to dining room.



I take the seat facing Kian. Not exactly facing him I slightly drag only a few inches of my chair, and sit on the right side so that my view of him isn’t blocked. To be precise, to make sure it isn’t pretty obvious to the block-head before me. When I see her smile, I remember the glossy stuff on my lips, and wipe it away slowly in a way which won’t insult her.



I am gonna have a headache if she continues to talk. Instead of looking at her, I concentrate on the person behind her. It’s fascinating to watch him cook, before he arrived here, I never ever watched a person cook. My parents never cooked; we had some celebrity chef cook for us. I was never a huge fan of restaurant cuisines. I have spent most of the days eating exotic cuisines. I long to eat normal and simple food.



I watch him as he brings two bowls of soup on a tray, and places each before us.



“I am allergic to peas; take it away,” says the bitch, shooing him with a nonchalant wave of her wrist.



How dare she treat him like that? Why the hell did he apologize to her? She is acting all high and mighty. I know for sure that she loves pea soup; that’s why I asked him to prepare it. I take a small amount of soup and sip it. It’s creamy and yummy. Well, it’s her tough luck for not being able to taste it.



I don’t know why Kian offered to make pasta salad; he should just leave her like that. Who is bothering about her? I know for sure that she won’t like anything he’s gonna make. I know for sure Kian is sweet enough to make salad just for her.



Truer words are rarely spoken; I realized it a long time ago. I was once naive to believe everyone only tells the truth. Thanks to Randy, I am no longer naive. If it wasn’t for her, then I wouldn’t be dating. I mentally scold myself for remembering the name of the person who screwed up my life. It’s been eight years, and she stills pop into my thoughts.



The chopping sound breaks through my thoughts, and I look at him. He cooks so thoughtfully; it looks like he is expressing himself through the food he cooks. Honestly, there are a lot of differences between restaurant food, and home cooked food.



Once I am done with the soup, he places a roasted white fish dish before me. It’s a colourful presentation,(black pepper drizzled over white roasted fish, wrapped in a nice layer of red meat, next to it asparagus, and mayonnaise poured on top of both.), and the aroma makes my stomach grumble. I nod my head, as once again Clarissa refuses the dish. I concentrate on the food, turning deaf ears to her constant whining. Why is the red meat wrapped around the fish? I hold the meat with my fork and I cut it with my knife. I then eat the smallest bit. The fish really melts in my mouth. Mayonnaise sauce is absolutely the epitome of creaminess and loveliness. The flavour is  zingy. Honestly, I am surprised I didn’t know bacon was an asparagus lover. Good job Kian!



This bitch doesn’t even allow me to enjoy my dinner. She keeps bitching about the pasta salad Kian made. I want to stand up and shout shut the fuck up, but as you can see, I have been trained to be a good host. If it was Kian I bet he would have shoved the food down her throat. To be honest, I am waiting for him to do that, so that I can chuck her out.



My ears twinge listening to her, and then my ears perk up when she asks, “What’s one of your most embarrassing moment?”



This whole time I notice that he hasn’t even looked in my direction or at me. This somehow is bothering me. I want him to look at me, and when she asks me this question I smile. I know what to say that will make him look at me.



I place the knife and fork on my plate and look at her. “Well, I don’t know if I can call it  memorable or embarrassing, but I don’t think I will ever forget it,”  I say, sounding a little thoughtful, and only reply when she pleads.



“Well you see, a thief broke into my apartment. I caught him stealing. He was not only stealing my clothes, but also stealing glances at me,” and I laugh.



The girl in front of me gasps, but I don’t hear her say anything, because when I hear Kian coughing, my body moves of its own accord. Before I know it, I hug him from behind, and I run my fingers across his throat.



When his cough stops I realize what I just did. I don’t know why my body moves on its own when I am around him. My eyes caught sight of two wine glasses, and I take them out immediately.



I go to the fridge and take out the wine bottle. I can feel her eyes on me. I place one wine glass before her, and the other on my side, and pour the wine. I see her frown; I think I know the reason.



I sit down and say, “ Baby! Frowning doesn’t sit well with your angelic face; will you please smile? I am already missing your smile.” Yuck!



She smiles, and I raise the glass “ Exotic wine for those exotic lips,”



I just want this dinner to be over, and I want to drink myself to sleep. I swirl the glass in my hand for few seconds, and then take a sip. The sweet acidic taste slowly lulls me, and I see him. Our eyes meet, and we hold our gaze. I don’t know long I keep looking in those black, smoky eyes, because a cough breaks our eye contact.  



“I am so sorry dear; I was lost in thought.” I didn’t understand why, but when we held our gaze my mind was blank. I couldn’t think of anything at all but one word, ‘black hole’. Scientifically speaking, a black hole is so strong that even light can’t escape, and anything lost in a black hole is lost forever. It literally devours the universe. His eyes literally devoured all my thoughts, and I found myself lost in them.



When I feel her toes sliding against my pants, my patience runs thin. I am not so desperate nor do I want a desperate woman. I think for awhile of the various ways to end this date, while still smiling at her. I smirk when an idea kicks in. I take out my mobile from my pants pocket, and type a message, and send it.



“Oh my God, no way!” I hear, and hide my smile by sipping a bit of wine. Nice message tone by the way. I see him taking out his cell from his pocket, and see his shocked expression when he reads my message. He looks up from his cell, his eyebrows are raised while he continues to stare at me. Finally someone decided to look at me, even though it’s a stare. I see him type a message.



I place my chin upon my intertwined fingers, and wait for his answer.



My phone vibrates, and I read his reply. “How do you know I am staring at you, unless you’re staring at me? I suggest that you first quit staring at me, and concentrate on your date.” Something I expected he will say; I quickly reply back, and wait for his answer.



I read his reply, “It isn’t my problem if you can’t concentrate on your date. If it’s a crime to be beautiful, then my ass would’ve been sued a long time ago.” I hide my laugh.



I look at my date; she is clearly angry, and I make a sorry face. “Sorry darling! Something came up in the office, and I am afraid I have to go.”



She looks disappointed. I take her hand, and kiss her knuckles saying, “Don’t worry, I will make up to you.”



“Can you drop me home? I came by a taxi,” she asks, getting up from her seat.



I ignore the cleavage show that I caught while she got up from the seat. “Sure! Why not? Your wish is my command lady!”



I take her hand in mine, and we head out to the hall. While she grabs her bag, I message him back, and then we both head out.



***********************************************************************

Kian’s P.O.V:



I see Mr high-and-mighty pull out the chair for his date, and push it in when she sits. He sits facing me, and his date’s back is facing me. I sprinkle freshly chopped leaf parsley over the pea soup.



I walk to the hall, and I place the soup bowl in front of his date. She looks at the contents of the bowl, and asks me what it is.



“It’s pea soup ma’am,” I say, and she flatly rejects it, saying she is allergic to peas. I apologize to her. I really didn’t know she was allergic to peas. Can’t he just do a little research on the girl he dates?



“If you could wait a bit longer, then I can make a fresh salad for you ma’am,” I say, trying to be as polite as possible.



Her only reply is a grunt. She looks really pissed off at me; I wonder what I did to piss her off?



For his date, I decide to make a simple pasta salad that will go well with the roasted haddock. I stride back to kitchen to prepare the main course. While I cook the pasta according to the directions on the package, I am also chopping both green and red peppers into strips. I overhear their conversation; I can’t help it if they’re within hearing range.



My high-and mighty master is in dating mode; he completely becomes a different person when he is in dating mode. He becomes a blatant liar, but he doesn’t fidget at all. The nice guy act he puts on, and the flattery he showers his dates with, they fall flat. It’s the superb nice guys who scare me because they are manipulative pricks. I haven’t seen him date at least one single genuine girl. But, his confidence, and the way he carries himself, is absolutely amazing. His arrogance, well that sucks like a vacuum cleaner though.



“What’s your favourite dish?” asks my master.



“Cereal,” answers his date.



“ What a coincidence! Even I love cereal; I have cereal for breakfast and dinner. I think I could live on cereal,” says my master in a fake compassionate tone.



Tsk! what a great lie; the very first breakfast I made for him was cereal, and he said to throw it in the dustbin. He asked me to make bacon and eggs for him. He warned me not to show him cereal, and hide or lock them away.



I season the fish fillets with freshly ground pepper, finely chopped rosemary, and finely grated lemon zest. I wrap the fish with thinned and widened rashers. In an ovenproof pan I add a splash of olive oil, and lay the fish down. After a minute, I place the pan in the already preheated oven for ten minutes. Alright, now it’s time to boil the asparagus and make mayonnaise.



I take a spoon, and taste the mayonnaise once it’s time. I think it needs a bit of lemon juice. I like it a little sour, but then again, I nix the idea of adding a bit of lemon juice. I drizzle freshly prepared mayonnaise over the fish and asparagus. I take the plates, and stride back down the hall. I place both the pasta salad and roasted fish in front of his date, and then I place the dish in front of him. I make sure not to look at him at all.



“I am so sorry; I am a vegetarian,” she says. I look at her, her dress struggling to retain her humongous boobs. I want to tell her, ‘Lady do a favour to both your dress, and monkey, a.k.a your date, a favour. Free your monstrous boobs from their prison. I am sure the monkey here will be more than happy. I leave taking the roasted white fish dish with me. According to a latest survey, guys first see boobs of woman before they see her face. What’s with guys having a fetish for boobs? Are her boobs real?I mean her boobs are too huge for her slender body. She reminds me of one of those Baywatch girls who had a very lean body, but humongous boobs.



His date keeps complaining like a bitch about the pasta salad I made; she whines that the pasta is not cooked properly, and blah, blah, blah. Well, I feel like shoving the rest of the dish down her throat. I am sure we all feel the same way when someone keeps whining like a bitch about the hard laboured dishes we make.



I take a glass, fill it with water and start drinking it. I’m trying to cool down, oh God please just don’t make me lose my temper. I pray to God I don’t flip out on her bitchy ass.



“What’s one of your most embarrassing moments?” asks his date.



“Well, I don’t know if I can call it a memorable or embarrassing, but I don’t think I will ever forget it,” answers the monkey.



“Oh! Come on, please tell me,” pleads the bitch.



I am also quite curious to know, I find myself paying attention to what he is going to say. My back was facing them and I was leaning against the kitchen counter.



“Well you see, a thief broke into my apartment. I caught him stealing. He was not only stealing my clothes, but also stealing glances at me.”



I choke on my drink; how dare he talk about this? Besides, I am not a thief. I start coughing and tears are falling down my cheeks.



I feel warm hands wrap around me. I gasp at the sudden warmth. I stand frozen, afraid to look at those eyes because they evoke chaos inside me. My brain gets jammed; my body signals are at crossing whenever I look into his eyes. His fingers sweep across my throat and my cough stops just like a magic. I let those warm fingers caress my throat, and close my eyes.



I can’t reach up to his chest. Tsk! I hate it. I see him taking out two wine glasses, and a wine from the fridge, and stride back to the dining room



********************************************

I watch him swoosh the wine glass, and then he takes a sip. He looks at me, and I think my eyes are glued to his. Ah shit, I can’t take my eyes off those sapphire jeweled eyes. I think I can keep looking at those jeweled eyes forever. I can definitely lose myself in them.



Even when he breaks the eye contact, my eyes follow his every move. I think my eyes are glued on him, and I am sure it’s because of the way he is dressed, and nothing more. The baby blue shirt highlights his eyes. I see him browsing through his phone, and suddenly I hear my message tone, and at the same time my phone vibrates. I take it out, and read the message. I thought for a second that my eyes may fall out of socket.



I just couldn’t believe who just messaged me! Holy shit! It’s a message from monkey I mean Mr. Grayson.



“Quit staring at me; I am on a date.”



I immediately reply and look at him. I watch his expression carefully. The corners of his lips slightly curve upwards. He is trying to hide his smile.



I feel the phone vibrate in my hand, and read his reply.



“I can’t concentrate on my date if you stare at me like that. I know it’s a crime to be so beautiful.”



I reply back to his message and smile. Tsk, his cockiness is way beyond my understanding. I guess it’s because all the girls can’t stop drooling over him, and when that thought crosses my mind I hear my inner voice saying, ‘weren’t you drooling over him then?’ Hell no! I wasn’t drooling over him.



The creak sound draws my attention. I look at both Mr. high-and-mighty, and his date getting up from their respective seats, and going to the hall.



I take the plates from the dining room table, and saunter into kitchen. I notice that his date has barely touched the pasta salad. I feel the phone vibrate again. I’ve turned off the message tone, because I didn’t want the girl to get suspicious.



“Don’t wait for me. Have your dinner, and go to sleep. Sweet dreams. (Don’t dream about me) *wink smiley*



Tsk! If I dream about him then it’s called a nightmare. Who the hell is gonna wait for you? I reply without delay. “The day I dream about you, is the day I start believing in nightmares.”



Then again I type, “thanks for earlier”, but when I am about to hit the send button, the image of him, and his date kissing pops up in my mind. I just slam my phone on the kitchen counter, and get back to my dinner. I am so damn hungry.





Author’s Note:

If you have a second feel free to rate, and if you have a minute then review! I'd really appreciate it. They motivate me!

I would really love to hear what you guys think. Thanks in advance for the reviews!



The delicious recipe that Kian made doesn’t belong to him or me. It belongs to Jamie Oliver, and given below is the link of the recipe

http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/fish-recipes/delicious-roasted-white-fish-wrapped-in

My beta Lisa rocks!

I hope you guys enjoyed my two cents.