7. Twist of Fate 2

A soft smile touched Valerie’s lips, but her voice was bold. “I would serve you fruits and nuts while I prepare your dinner, Boss.”

Her words, laced with an unconscious, smoky allure, sent a jolt of pure arousal through him. Without looking away from Valerie, Brian issued his order. “You can leave, Jane. Her work starts now.”

Jane’s face fell. She had expected them to conduct the interview together, to establish herself as the lady of the house by outlining duties and setting firm boundaries. She would have been the one to dismiss Valerie. To be so summarily dismissed by her was a brutal power play.

She shot him a look of pure venom, but his entire focus was consumed by the beautiful eighteen-year-old beside him. “What did you just say, Brian?” Jane demanded, her voice tight with anger.

Valerie shuddered under the force of Jane’s glare. To add insult to injury, Brian didn’t even bother to glance at his supposed fiancée. His gaze remained locked on Valerie as he stated firmly, “I don’t wish to repeat myself, Jane.”

Swallowing her humiliation, and acutely aware of the fragility of their relationship, she rose stiffly. “See you later, Brian.”

“Later,” he responded, his tone utterly perfunctory as he continued to drown in Valerie’s captivating eyes.

Seeking to smooth the tension, Valerie looked at her step-sister. “See you later, Jane," she said. "I will not disappoint you,” she promised.

Jane was too incensed to even acknowledge her. She turned on her heel and left without a word. The weight of Brian’s intense stare now fell on Valerie alone, making her skin prickle. Uncomfortable with his raw dominance, she subtly inched away on the couch.

“Can I start my work now?” she asked, hoping the formality would create a much-needed distance.

He was acutely aware of her discomfort, and it warred with years of bottled-up desire that now roared to the surface. He silently prayed he wouldn’t make a fool of himself and ruin this first impression. Inwardly, he marveled at her beauty.

“Oh! Certainly,” he said, seizing on the first practical thought that came to mind. “But we have to get the groceries first.” 

It was a flimsy excuse, but it was better than being alone with her in the charged silence of the house.

“It is okay, Boss,” she acquiesced and tried to get up. 

He was faster. Rising before her, he took her elbow to help her up, his grip firm and purposeful. “Come with me,” he demanded, leading her out.

“Okay, Boss,” she responded, hoisting her worn purse onto her shoulder as she followed him into a kitchen gleaming with top-of-the-line appliances.

“Here we are,” he announced, turning to her with a proud, cheerful sweep of his arm.

Her eyes widened. “Wow! It’s enormous. And beautiful,” she said, the compliment genuine.

His face lit up with immediate elation. “Do you love it?” he asked, searching her face.

“Yes. It’s heavenly,” she remarked, running a hand along the cool marble of the kitchen.

A happy smile broke across his features. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it. Now, can you draw up a budget for what you’ll need for the interview?”

“Of course, Boss,” she answered, her voice softening shyly. “I just need to know what kind of food you had in mind.”

“You promised me fruits and nuts for when I return from work. Remember?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Good. Then let’s start with that.”

“I will go with that,” she said, glancing around for something to write with.

He plucked a hardcover notebook and a pen from a shelf and handed them to her. “Here we are.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking them. 

Without hesitation, she opened the book and began listing varieties of fruits and complementary nuts, her pen moving in quick, graceful strokes. He watched, quietly admiring her handwriting.

“That’s the fruits done,” she said, her tone becoming more officious. “What about the menu for dinner?”

“I like seafood. And chicken breast,” he pointed out.

“We can do catfish, shellfish, even albatross if you like, with some seaweed salad,” she suggested, scribbling the items down.

“Perfect.”

She looked up. “If I may ask, how many days should this budget cover?”

“You figure it out,” he ordered, though not unkindly.

“Okay. I’d suggest we plan for two days,” she advised. “That way, everything stays fresh.”

“That’s fine with me. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, Boss.”

"Good," he led her back out, then paused. “Excuse me for a moment, Valerie,” he said, disappearing into his bedroom.

He returned minutes later, having changed into casual wear that suited his frame perfectly. It was Valerie’s turn to be impressed. 

"Wow. He is so handsome," she thought, her gaze lingering on him before she quickly looked away.

Meanwhile, he walked to the key hanger and carefully unhung the keys for his domestic staff operation vehicle. She pointedly looked away the precise moment he turned to face her.

“Shall we get going?” He asked her with an air of expectation and smoothly led the way.

“Okay, Boss,” she replied, consciously composing herself before following in his footsteps.

He led her to the private car park and opened the passenger door for her, holding it wide. The bewildered Valerie gave him a deeply questioning look, which he met with an openly loving one.

“Kindly get in,” he gently advised her, his voice soft.

Notwithstanding her confusion, she found herself appreciating his unexpected gesture, “Thank you, for this, Boss,” she said quietly and slipped into the luxurious interior.

He smiled broadly at her gratitude and responded with heartfelt sincerity, “Anything for you, truly.”

He shut the door firmly, walked with purpose to the driver's side, and settled into the car as well. Now, she was fastening her seatbelt but felt profoundly uncomfortable under the weight of his unfamiliar gestures, and he immediately noticed her disquiet. He adjusted his mask, fastened his own seat belt, and turned to face her directly.

“Are you set?” He asked her, seeking confirmation.

“Yes, Boss,” she affirmed.

“Good,” he said simply and turned on the car’s ignition with a quiet purr.

For the very first time in his entire life, he felt an overwhelming sense of being a married man, specifically one who was going shopping with his beloved and cherished wife. He watched his environment keenly, and only when he observed that his vigilant security team was perfectly set did he move; they followed at a discreet distance, protecting him without the appearance of stalking.

Now, there was an unseemly and heavy quietness filling the car's cabin and he quickly resolved to break it.

“How old are you, Valerie?” He asked her with a deliberately friendly and warm tone.

She was not at all expecting such a forward, friendly question, one that seemed laden with romantic potential, but she answered him all the same, her voice even.

“I'm eighteen, Boss.”

Now, Brian was utterly thrilled to hear her age and his thoughts immediately wandered, constructing a detailed vision of the beautiful life they would inevitably have together.

'If we get married this coming month, we will happily welcome our first baby this coming year. The baby will surely be as beautiful as her. If it is a boy, will he look more like me or her? No. I want a set of twins, a perfect pair. Yes. Mom and Dad would be absolutely overjoyed to welcome their first grandchildren. Yes. They will love the …'

A cold dread washed over Valerie, her confidence crumbling as his prolonged silence stretched between them. The anxious shift in his expression seemed to confirm her deepest fear: that her age had finally disqualified her.

“Am I not qualified for the job?” she inquired, the words laced with a pleading tone she hadn’t intended.

The sound of her voice snapped Brian from his reverie. He recalled himself, shaking off his distant look, and answered her quickly with a warm, paternal smile. “You are perfectly qualified, my dear.”