Page 3 of Resisting the Bossy Billionaire

His own fridge was a huge triple American one that his mother had gaped in amazement at the first time she’d seen it. From it, Victoria removed the container of beans and carried them over to the coffee pot and placed them on the stainless-steel surface beside it.

Deciding to be a good boy, Marcello stood beside her and pretended to pay attention.

‘Fill it with cold water up to the line,’ she instructed as she ran water into the pot. She was turning the tap off when her phone buzzed.

Sliding her hand into her back pocket, she read the message whilst carrying the pot back to the machine.

The short puff of air she expelled told him she’d just received unwelcome news.

She looked at him. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, he noted. Not that she normally wore much of it but the little she did wear made its absence more noticeable now that he was looking at her face. She hadn’t styled her dark red hair into the tidy ponytail she normally wore either. It was much longer than he’d thought, falling halfway down her back.

‘The deli can’t deliver.’

Assuming she was joking, he laughed.

Not smiling, she held her phone up so he could read the message for himself.

‘Staff shortage due to inclement weather? What does that mean?’

‘It means you should look out of a window.’

‘I knowwhatit means but what I want to know is why it should affect my bagel delivery. I am on the same block. Message back and tell them to get someone to walk it over.’

An eyebrow a browner shade than her hair arched. ‘It says, quite clearly, that they don’t have the staff.’

‘Then call the concierge.’

A sharp rise and fall of her shoulders and then she did as he asked whilst simultaneously adding coffee beans to the machine. It was a short conversation.

‘The on-duty concierge is waiting for more staff to arrive,’ she told him. ‘They should be in a position to send someone out for you within the hour.’

That long? Marcello wanted his bagel now, not in an hour. What was wrong with the world that a bit of snow should cause such inconvenience?

‘The coffee is prepared, it just needs to drip through,’ she added. ‘When the red light turns green, it will be ready to pour.’

‘Great, then you can go and get me a bagel.’

The steel from earlier returned to her eyes. ‘No, Marcello, now I go home.’

‘But I am hungry. It will take you five minutes.’

‘Ten in this weather. It’s my day off and I’ve got plans.’

‘If the weather is as bad as you keep whining about, your plans will have been cancelled.’

Her eyes widened. After a beat, she said, ‘Whining?’

‘Winter in Manhattan means bad weather,’ he explained. ‘You need to toughen up.’

While he waited patiently—and people thought he didn’t have patience? Such a misconception!—for her to display some remorse and do as he’d requested, Victoria’s now narrowed eyes did not leave his face. It was a long moment before he realised that mutiny rather than remorse had settled in them, a mutiny carried through to the lifting of her chin and the sucking in of her cheeks. ‘I tell you what, why don’tyoutoughen up? You’re not an invalid. You’ve got a pair of fully functioning legs—if the weather out there’s as tropical as you seem to think it is, then go and get your own damned bagel. I’m going home.’

To his astonishment, Victoria finished her tempered outburst by striding across the kitchen, her long red hair swishing behind her.

Incredulous, he took a few beats to realise she was being serious.

‘Do I have to remind you the home you refer to comes courtesy of your job for me?’ he called out.

‘A job that this is my first day off from in eighteen days,’ she retorted without looking back.

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