Chapter 7

Imogen

He’s such a jerk sitting there watching television, he hasn’t even turned round once to acknowledge me. I’m cutting up lettuce as if I’m slicing his fingers off one by one. Because how mad I am, I could easily do this to Cody fucking Brannigan.

He’s watching a hockey game and I’m trying my damndest not to stare at his broad shoulders and those tattoos that are running down his arm from his white tee. He’s not evening tensing his arms and I can see the form of his bicep muscles, the ones that in between thinking of cutting his fingers off, I want to run my hands down and trace the patterns of. I’m hot and flustered and I feel a warmth rush up from my pussy to my stomach. Holy Fuck. I chop harder. He doesn’t seem to notice or he’s really good at ignoring people.

I add some bell tomatoes, feta cheese and red onion to the salad and sprinkle it with basil before drizzling olive oil over it. The chicken I was grilling is finished, I slice it in thick chunks and lay it on his plate before drizzling some Teriyaki sauce over it. There, it looks good. Although why I’m bothering to make his lunch look appetizing is beyond me. Still, he is paying me a ton of money so it’s the least I can do, I suppose.

Crashing the plate down on the island in front of where I’m working behind a counter bar, he still doesn’t shift on the sofa. Is he deaf or what? I almost throw the knife and fork down, it clanks on the marble top. “It’s ready.” I shout out louder than I meant to.

“Great. You can bring it over.” Is he for fucking real?

“I don’t do personal service. It’s on the island get it yourself. You’re not eating in front of the television.” I stomp around clearing up after myself and wash the knives I’ve been working with. They’re sharp enough to cut his balls off.

“I’ll eat where the fuck I want. It’s my damn house.” The hot water almost scalds my hands as I run the blade under it. That hurt. I dry the knife and place it on the rack above the shiny hob.

“Well I’m not brining it over. You know where it is. Get it yourself. I’m hired only to cook. Not bring, fetch and carry. That’s not part of the arrangement Cody.” I sneer. My fists are now curling, I so want to smack him for being so rude and arrogant.

“Whatever. Leave it there I’ll get it when you’ve left.” My face is red with anger.

“I’ve got to make myself food so you’ll be waiting a while.”

“Jeez-us.” He gets up and I see his bottoms fall slightly to expose a very taught stomach with a perfect v going right down into his waistband. Daaaamn. He is so fucking hot. And I’m getting turned on, I can feel the moistness in my panties. This is not happening to me. It can’t be happening to me. I hate him, I can’t stand Cody Brannigan. I look away but not before he saw my eyes on his junk.

He sniggers. Now I really want to slap him or drive a knife through his chest. Who the fuck does he think he is, sniggering at me? I groan inwardly, I’ve got to get through six long months. Maybe I’ll just start looking for a different job, because there is no way on earth, I’m going to get through six months without murdering Cody.

As he walks lazily towards the lunch I’ve prepared for him, I make myself busy taking random stuff out of the fridge for my own lunch. So far I’ve managed to take out pineapple cubes, milk, feta cheese and what looks like old and stale bread. Who keeps bread in the fridge? That’s a cardinal sin.

With my back to him totally unaware that he’s actually staring at my ass, I say “we need to shop. You’ve got nothing in this house. What do you expect me to prepare with this crap?”

“That darlin’ is your department. Not mine.”

“Don’t call me darlin’ either. We have to go shopping. That’s first on our list today.” My voice sounds imperious and trust me when I say, going shopping with Cody Brannigan is the last thing I want to do but we can’t starve. Least ways, I’m not prepared to starve.

“Can’t darlin’. I’ve got practice and then your brother has invited us out to Autumn’s bar later for beers and live music. By the way he said to ask you.” He carries on eating. I’m now standing facing him on the opposite side of the island with my hands resting on it. I bring my jaw up from the ground.

“So you expect me to do all the shopping too?” He just nods as he puts chicken into his mouth. I wish I had spat on it.

He finishes eating his mouthful. “I’ll get you a card organized that way you don’t have to pay for anything. In the meantime give my guy Luca a call. Numbers on the fridge. He’ll get the shopping in for you. If you need anything else, Luca’s your guy. You know if you need a ride anywhere or want to go hang with the girls.” His blue eyes are on mine, they’re piercing and stunning and I’ve started to thaw. Oh no you don’t Immi. Get a fucking grip.  I stand up straighter.

“Cool. Thanks.”

“So, you coming out tonight. Atlas wants you to. Personally, I’d rather you didn’t.” He has got some nerve. The jackass. Seriously?

“You know what, I’d love to.” There wipe that smirk right off your face asshole.