Page 33 of Ruthless King
Magda shuffles around the kitchen, banging plates and cupboards, dragging my thoughts to the present. The savory scent of bacon and eggs fills the penthouse, and my stomach growls. I usually only have coffee for breakfast, so she must have prepared all of this for my new roommate. Magda drops a brimming plate of food in front of our new houseguest, and Stella rewards her with a warm smile.
Come to think of it, she’s likely only a few years older than Stella. “I take it you’ve met Magda?” My gaze darts between the two women.
“Yes, she’s been quite lovely. She even gave me a tour of the penthouse this morning, something you conveniently forgot to do last night.”
“Perhaps I wouldn’t have forgotten if you hadn’t shot me and then attempted an impossible escape.” The corner of my lip twitches, unbidden.
Magda’s eyes widen for only a fraction of a second before she schools her face to neutrality. The young woman has been under my employ for nearly five years now. Her mother worked for my father, and when she turned eighteen, she inherited the role. There isn’t much that surprises her. I’d sent her a message last night and warned her of our surprise guest.
Stella’s appreciative gaze rakes over my suit until she catches me staring. Her lips pull into a frown, and she returns her focus to her eggs. “So where are you going?” she asks without looking up.
“It’s seven-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday. I’m going to work, princess, where do you think?”
“What am I supposed to do?”
My lips purse as she eyes me. I hadn’t actually considered the day-to-day logistics of her stay. “Whatever you want, I suppose.”
“Can I go home?”
“No,” I growl.
Magda reaches for a yellow envelope on the counter. “Mr. Tony dropped this off last night with Mr. Alberto, Signor Valentino.”
I rip it open and a small white and orange cannister rolls out. I’m tempted to test it out to ensure it’s not pepper spray in the guise of a harmless inhaler. Instead, I hold it out to Stella who snatches it from my fingers. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” she hisses.
Grabbing my phone from my jacket pocket, I scroll through the notifications then scan my calendar. The Heart Ball is right around the corner. At least an outing would give Stella something to do.
“Magda, would you like to accompany Clara and Stella today to pick out a couple gowns for the next few events?” Along with my security team. The more eyes on her the better if she’s leaving the safety of the penthouse. Maybe if she’s busy, she’ll stay out of trouble.
The woman’s pale gray eyes sparkle. “It would be my pleasure, signore.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Stella responds around a mouthful of bacon. “Since Tony is so familiar with my apartment, he can just go pick up my clothes.”
“I already told you—”
“How do you know I don’t have any fancy gowns?” she snaps before I can finish.
I roll my eyes and heave out a breath. “I don’t, but I’m giving you the opportunity to pick out new ones. Anything you’d like.”
Her brows slam together, and unexpected irritation darkens her expression. “I don’t want anything from you. We already owe you enough, I don’t need to add to the debt.”
“This is a gift.”
“Why?” she shouts.
The elevator dings, drawing my attention away from this ridiculous argument. My executive assistant, Clara, looking flawless as always in a perfectly tailored Chanel skirt suit, saunters into the foyer and makes a beeline straight for Stella.
“Grazie a Dio, Tony wasn’t exaggerating,é bellissima, just gorgeous.” My overly eager assistant squeezes Stella’s hands and spins her on the barstool.
Stella’s eyes grow wide as she swallows down a big bite. “Who are you?”
“Scusi, bella.” She swats at my shoulder and tosses me a glare. “I thought Luca would have told you about me. Where are my manners?” She extends a hand and a beaming smile. “I’m Clara, Luca’s executive assistant.”
“She’ll be taking you shopping today,” I add.
Both women stare at me like I’ve grown a second head.
