Page 10 of My Orc Billionaire
Silence from the other end.
“Mr. Sylvik?”
“A human?” he blurted. “Wellshit. And the interview with Abydos went well? You’re starting tomorrow?”
He knew I was. “Why was Mister—why was he so surprised? Was I not supposed to be human?”
From the other end of the line, I heard Sylvik sigh. “Abydos is used to working with non-humans, and I have to say that I never considered you might be…well, the fae choose nature-oriented names, which is what I assumedRivenwas.”
Was it? “My sister’s name is Brooke,” I mentioned a little numbly.
“AndStarr?” He clucked his tongue. “Ms. Starr, you have a very fae-sounding name. I made assumptions I shouldn’t have, and I am very sorry for any trouble that caused.”
Trouble? I’m not sure that was the right word for the fear I’d experienced last night. The fear and the… Well, I wasn’t sure what to call the other feelings Abydos had evoked. Not pity, not exactly. Compassion, maybe? And something else.
“What would you have done if you’d known I was a human?” I forced myself to ask.
The man’s answer was immediate. “You wouldn’t have had an interview at all. But I suppose we both should be glad I didn’t, because it’s clear your cooking has won over Abydos despite your debility.”
Debility. Being human was a debility? I kept the smile from my voice when I thanked him and promised not to screw this up.
Which is why I was here extra early. I didn’t need a key because Sylvik had given me the code to get in, and I found the kitchen without much trouble. He hadlisted the expectations, and I was determined to meet them.
For my first day, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with a traditional breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and blueberry pancakes. Everyone liked bacon, right? I texted Sylvik to ask about Abydos’s coffee preferences but didn’t hear back.
According to the daily schedule, Abydos woke up and worked out in the gym, which was near his suite of rooms. Then he’d want breakfast in the dining room at nine. Well, I could manage that, even if Iwasflagging a bit from the stress and early wake up.
To be fair, though, since the chemo, I’d been flagging alot. I was weaker than I used to be, no doubt, but I’d had no choice but to keep pushing myself to work more hours and make more money.
At least working as a private chef wouldn’t be as physically demanding as being in the line at a popular fried seafood joint.
Or would it?
At 8:58 I stood in front of the island, surveying my offerings. Damn, not knowing how Abydos took his coffee—or even if he preferred tea—was slightly terrifying. I had everything loaded onto a silver tray I found in the butler’s pantry, and after the third time I adjusted the position of his mug—like that would really matter—I told myself to calm the hell down.
I needed to focus on what mattered; getting this heavy-ass tray into the dining room.
With a grunt, I hoisted it and teetered under the weight.
Don’t drop this, Riven. You need this job.
Right.
Right, I could do this. With straining muscles, I did my best to glide toward the dining room.
Abydos was sitting at the head of the table, his back to the impressive picture windows, scrolling on a tablet. When I shuffled into the room, I saw him freeze, but he didn’t look up from his screen.
Not that I could have had a conversation with him; I was too busy trying not to collapse under the weight of breakfast and a full coffee and tea service.
I managed not to clank too much when I set the tray at his elbow, then reached with trembling fingers for the place setting I’d forgotten to set out earlier.
“What’s this?”
His voice was somehow even more growly in the morning. I froze, trying to simultaneously keep my gaze locked on the trayandgauge his expression. This resulted in me eyeballing him from the corner of my eyeball.
It must’ve worked because I could see his hair was still wet from his shower. He didn’t wear the suit today, but a gray Henley shirt shoved up his forearms, revealing more scars on his left arm, and a watch worth four times as much as my sedan.
But he was waiting, so I managed to squeak, “What’s what? Sir,” I tacked on at the end as I hurried to set the table, hoping he’d think me respectful and not tardy.
