Page 15 of Quarantined with the Billionaire

Early in the afternoon, nature called—and I needed something to drink as well. My mouth felt parched after talking constantly. But I wasn’t going to interrupt Maddox to ask him where the bathroom was. I should be able to find it myself.

Before I left, I wrote Be right back! on a sticky note, slapping it on the laptop monitor in case Maddox came looking for me. This whole time, I’d heard his voice booming through the door, resonating with power and confidence. Almost anyone who was worried about the market right now could be talked off the ledge by the powerful, reassuring Maddox Steel. Hell, he’d already convinced me, and he wasn’t even talking to me.

I headed out of the study, through all the rooms I was becoming more familiar with toward the kitchen. Even though I’d seen quite a bit, I had the feeling I’d barely scratched the surface of all the square footage in this home. Knowing how big the house looked from the outside, I knew there was so much more. From my trip in the car down the driveway, for instance, I could tell there were three stories, maybe more, and I hadn’t even seen the entire ground level.

I only hoped a bathroom would be easy to find.

It was almost spooky how quiet the house sounded. It didn’t help that my heels clicked on the hardwood floor in the kitchen, making me want to put the pressure of my steps on the front of my feet to silence the sound. Instead, I walked quickly until I reached the swinging door. But there was a closed door in the kitchen that I couldn’t resist.

Maybe it was a bathroom—and that would be my excuse if anyone snuck up on me, asking what I thought I was doing.

But I peeked in and saw that it was nothing more than a pantry full of serving dishes and cleaning products, what I learned later was a room called a butler’s pantry. Beyond that was another doorway, so I flipped on the light switch. In the other small room beyond was yet another small closet full of nonperishable food.

Turning off the light before closing the door, I turned and pushed against the swinging door, ready to see more of this palatial home. What I noticed first was the ornate chandelier in the dining room that nearly took my breath away. It was crystal and gold, sparkling just from the light coming through the large window to the north. And the elegant dining table and chairs that appeared to be made from the same wood as Mr. Steel’s desk couldn’t steal the show. The one window in the room was large, allowing plenty of light to spill in, bathing the space in cleansing rays. The hardwood floor’s polish was subtle, and I took care to tiptoe through the space.

There was only one other door in this room as well, so I walked around the table and through, not knowing what to expect. But, in the next room, everything opened up. It was what I’d call a living room or, possibly, a sitting room. The space was massive and here there were multiple doorways—and stairs to boot. Two sofas and two overstuffed chairs surrounded a low wooden table. Underneath it all was a large area rug that, due to its subtle colors, was hard to notice. There was what appeared to be a large wardrobe on one side of the room and several pieces of art on another—but I suspected the door beside the corner near the stairway might be a bathroom, so I had to investigate.

Opening the door, I wasn’t sure what to expect from this home anymore, but I was relieved to discover my guess was right. The design of the room almost didn’t match the rest of the house, save for the same beiges, browns, and whites, in addition to the soft brown stone floor and wooden accents. The mirror, however, was striking. It took up the top half of one wall and it was carved out as if it were flames from a roaring fire and, over the toilet, the wall peeked through like a chasm in the mirror, so that the glass was actually two distinct, curvy pieces hanging on the wall. It in itself was art.

I wondered if all the other restrooms would be as whimsical.

When I left, shutting off the chandelier lighting the small space, I felt the urge to explore some more. I peeked through the open doorway to the north and made the guess that it led to the front entryway. It appeared to be a great room through the open arch and, as I walked closer, I could see a set of double doors farther through, confirming my suspicion. As I neared the closed door at a diagonal from the arch, I strained, because I could hear a voice.

Ah. That was the other entrance to Mr. Steel’s office.

The stairs…those were tempting, but I decided to avoid them for now. I had work to do, and I doubted I’d be invited back here if found snooping. But the art on the wall near the entrance to the dining room distracted me.

The paintings were both what I’d call abstract and yet they pulled together all the elements of the room in what seemed an intentional way, making me wonder if this artwork had been commissioned by Mr. Steel. One painting appeared to be like what I imagined a hurricane looked like on the inside, only the color wasn’t that of a cloud but of the earthy tones throughout the house; and the other was an artistic arrangement of patterns—blobs, strokes, with subtle bright colors here and there mixed in. I could get lost in both paintings for hours, trying to discern the meaning of them.

“Lovely, aren’t they?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when Simon’s voice pulled me out of my trance. I hadn’t realized he’d returned to the house from his errands, much less snuck up on me—but the rug on the floor was good at absorbing the sound of footsteps apparently. Despite the gasp that flew out of my mouth, I didn’t want to act guilty or frightened. After all, I hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Yes. They’re stunning. I, um, had to use the ladies’ room.” Relief washed through my veins that he hadn’t seen when I’d been peeking around the sitting room and looking through the big doorway.

Or had he?

“But I guess it’s time to get back to work.”

He nodded, standing next to me. “Can I make you anything to drink? A latte? Hot or iced tea? Water?”

“Water would be nice. Thank you.”

I walked with him through the dining room, disliking that I had to have him fetch things for me, but this wasn’t my house and he wasn’t my employee. Even though I was quite capable, I wouldn’t just come to someone else’s house and start helping myself. I had to remind myself that this was no different.

I just wasn’t used to having someone wait on me in this fashion. When we got to the kitchen, I paused so I could take the water back with me. Simon said, “You don’t need to wait. I’ll bring it to you.”

I might have taken it wrong had Simon’s brown eyes not seemed so warm and kind. “Okay. Thank you.” Heading back to my space, I tried to focus. It was a little easier now, because I’d been through these rooms a couple of times now, and I could allow my curiosity to simmer down a bit. And, unlike my tiny apartment, I thought I could actually get in some steps in this house, which I’d been lacking since not having to walk to work.

Sitting back down at my desk, I removed the sticky note from my monitor and began making calls again. I’d just finished rescheduling another appointment for Mr. Steel when Simon entered the room.

Wow. He took his job pretty seriously—or, perhaps, I didn’t take it seriously enough.

He carried my drink on a tray, but it was more than that. Placing a napkin on the desk, he then set a glass of ice on it before putting a bottle of water and a small bowl of lemon slices beside it. “Would you like me to pour it for you?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” That would be too much.

Smiling, Simon turned to leave but then paused.

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