Page 5 of Three Billionaire Bodyguards and a Sneaky Mafia Princess

Chapter Four

Orchid

Day one.

Okay, Orchid grew up with luxury. If it sparkled as ostentatiously as a diamond and cost as much as a diamond, then it was a diamond. But here in this ultra-smooth and sleek modern house of theirs, nothing sparkled, nothing looked ostentatious, but everything, every single thing, from the contemporary building materials to the art, decor, furniture, flooring, and lighting, cost more money than people knew existed. Her father was a multimillionaire. They were multibillionaires. The difference in wealth was staggering.

She had to look closer at the grout between the tiles to discover it was sprinkled with diamonds, real ones. The chandeliers weren’t just crystal; oh no, they weren’t. They were also made with emeralds and sapphires and looked out of this world.

Their home smelled like them, too, if she allowed herself to be a little metaphoric, she could discern the hints of cedar and musk from their cologne mixed with danger and power.

She would have to tread a little more lightly here.

Last night went well. After crying all over their obscenely expensive suits, in their foyer under a ceiling so high she could see the stars through the skylight, she told them she wasn’t hungry and escaped to the bedroom assigned to her, shown to her by Charlie, their chauffeur, who she thoroughly liked on sight.

She’d been unusually tired and missed Tulip, so she quickly put on her pajamas and went to bed. She wasn’t sure if the scent of their cologne lingered directly on her skin from being close to them or lingered all around her. Either way, it didn’t matter. For the most part, she slept fitfully. She had work cut out for her.

Now, an inkling of sunrise bathed the room in a soft orange haze. A natural early riser, Orchid glanced at the time on her phone. It was just after six. She supposed she better get started with her day.

She climbed from the bed, used the bathroom, then stepped out onto the balcony in her modest pink pajamas and began her stretching and meditative exercises. Feeling invigorated, she took a brisk shower, cleansing with a body wash before she exfoliated her skin with her peach-scented body scrub. After drying off, she opened her suitcase and retrieved a matching pair of white cotton bra and panties and a dress very similar to the one she had worn the day before. This one was yellow with orange blossoms on it.

She didn’t bother emptying her bags into the ridiculously enormous walk-in closet space. She was only going to be here for seven days, and she’d perfected her packing skills, layering her clothes in order of the days she was going to wear them, including nightwear and underwear.

Her other suitcase remained locked. She stored it in the closet.

Putting her hair up into a ponytail with a yellow ribbon to match her dress, she headed toward the kitchen.

State of the art didn’t cover it.

Now how the fuck did she make them a gourmet breakfast? She pulled out her phone from the pretty pockets that came with the dress, and soon she found the perfect YouTube channel where the whole premise was find the way to your man, or in her case your men’s hearts, was through their stomachs with meals cooked from scratch.

Okay, that was harder than she thought. Her first three batches of pancakes flopped. She burned the bacon. The eggs had shells in them. But she wasn’t a quitter.

By her fourth try, her pancakes were sumptuous, her bacon crispy, and her eggs fluffy. She quickly laid the table—not the table in the dining room, but the one in the kitchen. She wanted the setting to be cozy and pleasant, with her freshly squeezed orange juice and a vase with flowers from their garden, which was a hard find since pretty flowers were not a theme they had going in their aesthetic.

She was in the process of proudly admiring her handiwork when they stepped into the kitchen, dressed for the day in their signature black suits. Her heart started an immediate thud in her chest, and she subconsciously pressed her thighs together. She had no idea what that was about.

“Good morning, Mr. Knolls. Good morning, Mr. Adams. Good morning, Mr. Ingram. I hope you slept well. Please take a seat,” she said cheerfully, pulling out their chairs for them. “I madeyou breakfast. And I hope you don’t mind, but I picked out some flowers from your garden,” she chatted animatedly.

She fluffed out their napkins, laid them on their laps, and poured them coffee before taking a seat at the table with them.

“Please, can I say one more time how indebted I feel to you? You’re keeping me from being taken by that very nasty man.” She looked down, emotion caught in her throat.

“Well, no more about that,” she said, not giving them a chance to respond. “It’s going to be a fine day today. Sunny with clear skies. Did you know a cloud weighs around a million tons?”

She continued to babble along, plying them with silly little facts and random things, caught herself babbling, smiled apologetically, and remained silent for the rest of the meal.

Six more days.

Chapter Five

Orchid

Oh freaking heck.

She’d just slogged over the stove making them breakfast from scratch, cleaned the kitchen after they escaped to their study for work, video-called Lizzie and Tulip, spoke to them for over an hour, checked her work email, worked out some cumbersome logistics, and now she had to do something about lunch.

What?

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