Page 60 of Boss of the Year
The doors opened into pure opulence.
“You’re staying with him.”
I whirled around. “What do you mean, I’m staying with him?”
Immediately, my mind ventured into all sorts of implausible scenarios that existed only in romance novels. Snowstorms, one bed, broken elevator—all forms of forced proximity that had zero reason to happen in a tropical environment with a man who had more money than God.
Robbie chuckled. “It’s all relative. This place has ten bedrooms. The primary is his, at that end.” He pointed across the house-sized living room toward a hallway that disappeared into darkness. “You’re in a suite on the other side. Come on, I’ll show you.”
The apartment—if you could give ten thousand square feet at the top of the world such a title—was the next thing to heaven. White marble floors. Glass walls. Panoramic city views so endless it seemed like all of São Paulo could fit inside with us.
“Living room, obviously,” Robbie said as he led me through the space. “Kitchen’s there. Fully stocked, pro-grade, top of the line. You’ll love it. Lucas’s office is behind that door. Don’t go poking.”
Noted.
“There’s a gym he uses with his trainer in the mornings, but otherwise, it’s yours. Infinity pool out there. And this,” he said, opening a door to the right, “is your suite.”
It was aggressively luxurious. Crisp white linens, subtle gold accents, everything calm and curated like a spa. My chef’s whites were already hanging in the closet.
I turned to Robbie. “Why am I here and not downstairs with you?”
Robbie gave me a sideways look. “I thought you requested it. Being that you’d need to be up hours before him and all.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you too?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Look,mami, if you want a change of accommodations, it’s fine by me. I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want my boss knowing about my midnight rendezvous either.”
“That’s not—” I started, but found it didn’t matter as Robbie gave me a knowing smile.
Clearly, not all of us from the losers’ table were still twenty-something virgins.
“It’s fine,” I corrected myself. “It does make sense, since this is where I’ll be working. I just don’t want to disturb Lucas.”
“Don’t worry about that. He’s up by five most days anyway. Which means you need to be up at four.”
“I wake up at four anyway.”
“Then you’ll have no problem.”
He led me back to the kitchen and tapped a digital panel on the fridge. A schedule lit up, containing color-coded blocks, each labeled down to the minute.
“Tonight, you don’t have anything—he’s at a reception right now that will probably last until dawn, though he’ll sneak out by midnight. Tomorrow, though, he’ll need coffee-to-go at five. He grabs it before his training session?—”
“Dry cappuccino,” I interrupted. “I know. I make it when he’s at Prideview.”
Robbie nodded. “Good, then I won’t have to remind you, even though I still will. That’s what he pays me for. Anyway, then he’s back at seven thirty for a full meal. He’ll be hungry, so don’t hold back, and he wants protein-heavy?—”
“Protein-heavy, on the go,” I completed. “Robbie, I’m not new at this. What’s the rest of the schedule?”
“Show-off.” Robbie grinned. “Okay, most days he wants lunch at noon. He won’t touch what the meetings serve, so you’ll pack it ahead, along with a protein-rich afternoon snack, except for Thursday, when he’ll be eating at Ruiva. Dinner’s at seven sharp, served here. Salad, main, and a small dessert except for Saturday. That’s his cheat day, so go all out.”
“Wine? Drinks?” At home, Lucas typically drank whatever Ondine paired with her menu, but that was almost always chosen by Winnifred. I didn’t know what his personal preferences were when he was alone.
Robbie shook his head. “Non-alcoholic only. I don’t know why, but he wants the trip dry.”
Huh. Odd.
I leaned against the counter, arms still crossed. “Any other specifics? Typically, Winnifred goes through the menu at home with Ondine every week to be sure it contains what she wants.”
