Page 16 of Howl You Doin?
His eyes darken and dart to my mouth when I wet my lips, then they drift up to glare at me with cold regard. I’m not sure what it is aboutmebecause I have seen him be nice. He is actually nice to everyonebutme, and I have never done anything to the guy.
“It’s the exact same thing, just in a larger size, Miss Whitt,” he says, and my lips twitch.
“Would you like me to make you something less cake-like?” I ask, extending an olive branch. Maybe if I cook something the man prefers, he will lay off.
“No.” His nostrils flare and I get the inkling the guy is never going to like me no matter what I do. His cute forehead wrinkles, but he steps back. “I need to see you in the study.”
His expression clears before he turns around and leaves the room.
Looking down at the messy counter, I ask, “Now?”
“Right now,” he yells, the sound reverberating through the kitchen due to the tall-as-fuck ceilings.
“You don’t have to shout,prick,” I mumble under my breath, my traitorous eyes following his ass as he stalks off.
I sigh and remove my apron to follow him to the study. This is so not going to be good.
Fifteen minuteslater I am cursing my abilities to tell the future because I was so right, but also, I know this man did not just say what I think he did.
“Could you repeat that, please?” I ask, ignoring how good he looks with his shirtsleeves rolled up, the veins in his arms on display and the bulk of his muscles cut into the fabric.
God is so cruel to make a man this hotthisevil.
I smile and the arrogant asshat’s brows raise, making me almost laugh at how his gaze trails over me cautiously.
“I said that the contract states the applicant must perform above expectations to receive the full thirty thousand pounds for the three months’ stay.” He smirks, his gaze falling to the paper in his hands before tossing it across his desk to me.
I don’t react to his assholeness because, frankly, I am used to Sir Surliness. I wouldn’t know what to do if the guy smiled or offered any politeness to me at all.
“You handle the finances?” I ask.
Damn. The bastard took one look at me a month ago today and hated me on sight. I, of course, was too busy trying to recover from how hot he is to notice until it was too late. Shit.
“That is a sizeable sum,” Mr. O’Doyle says, the ever-present frown on his face unmoving.
The leather chair I sit in squeaks loudly as I lean closer to his desk. It’s probably intentional. I can see him buying the squeaky leather chair on purpose—just one more thing to make people feel small and squirm.
“I have done everything asked of me since accepting the post,” I say, gritting my teeth, hoping he doesn’t notice with how widely I am smiling to cover it. Oh my god. If this motherfucker tries to take my bonus.
Redrum. I think I could rock a jumpsuit.
Connor frowns, his thick brows coming together and marring his pretty forehead. “That is to be determined.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” My gaze flicks to his, and he holds my stare.
“I’m not sure where you come from, Miss Whitt, but imbibing alcohol while on the job is frowned upon and, if you recall, it wasn’t but weeks ago when I found you drinking during the grand opening.”
My eyes bug from my head at the insinuation and images of that night flash through my mind. “You’re joking,” I mutter under my breath, disbelieving what he just said.
“And that is but one of your transgressions.”
“What transgressions?” I blurt. “I was hired by Vlad Tepesh, my boss, Mr. O’Doyle. If Mr. Tepesh has any issues, he has yet to tell me and I already told you, I wasnotdrinking.”
Ha, have that.
The longer he stares, the more I want to wiggle in place and get away from his penetrating gaze that seems to want to tear me apart. I breathe in a shallow breath when he finally drops his gaze from mine.
“Unfortunately for you, Miss Whitt,” he practically bites out, “I run this castle and oversee all operations within it. I’m not sure if you realize that includes you.”
