Page 15 of My Orc Billionaire
Her wet hair had dripped dark spots across her shirt, and I wished she’d held onto the towel so I didn’t have to see the cotton sticking to her skin. Didn’t have to listen to myKteerpurr at the sight of her ire.
She should’ve looked ridiculous. Instead, she looked alive, and I hated how much I noticed.
I shook my head in disgust, mostly at myself. “Yeah, but you don’t like it. You have to eat this food too, so you should make what you like?—”
“Oh, forget it,” she mumbled, using her hip and elbow to close the fridge door, as her gaze dropped to the tile floor. “My preferences don’t matter here.”
But they should.
Why?
Why should her preferences matter? Riven was just my chef. She was here to cater tomypreferences. It wasn’t like she sat with me in the dining room towatch the storm as we ate, enjoying the way the flavors melted together as we talked about our days.
But in that moment, that vision in my mind…I knew that was what I wanted.
That’s how meals—simple meals, with not enough food to go around—looked like in the village where I grew up. We might’ve gone to bed hungry, but we ate together as a family, as brothers. I had Aswan and Memnon and Simbel and the others with me, keeping them together, protecting them, making sure they were fed.
Had it really been so long since I’d felt that sense of satisfaction? I’d built an empire here in the human world, trying to beat them at their own game. And what did I get out of it? Really expensive cheese.
And no one to share it with.
You don’t want to share it with anyone. You’re happier being alone.
Wasn’t I?
Deep inside, myKteerrumbled, and I pressed my claws against my chest to drown it out with the pain. My tongue flicked against my broken tusk, the sharp aching stab reminding me who I was and what I’d beaten to be here today.
I didn’t need to share my meals with anyone, not anymore.
With a low growl, I turned away from the refrigerator, only for the wet breeze coming in through the window to catch my hair again, reminding me of my old life. When I wouldlivein the storm instead of just watching it.
When I would protect the land, rather than scarring it.
The storm, wild, bold, powerful…it smelled of Riven. Or she smelled of the storm. I glanced at the crumpled towel she’d used to dry herself, and wondered if she needed anything else.
She can take care of herself. You pay her to take care ofyou, remember?
Right. Yeah.
Shaking my head in disgust at myself, I stalked from the kitchen. But before I could leave,shespoke.
“I’ll make you a snack before I begin on the lamb chops, and bring it to your office.”
Why did I suspect she—Rivenwas the only snack I wanted?
Chapter Four
Riven
When the doorbell rang,I was chopping veggies for the stuffed acorn squash I was serving for lunch. The noise startled me so much I slipped, barely missing slicing open my finger. I…don’t think I’d ever heard the doorbell ring before, and I’d been working for Abydos for almost two weeks now.
Curious, I pulled the towel from my shoulder and hurried toward the front door as I wiped my hands.
This place wasn’t exactly a mansion, but it wasn’t like there was a butler—or any other servants—standing around the answer the door.
Except me.
Abydos had a cleaning team who came in twice a week, but the kitchen was my domain, and he kept his office and suite clean enough on his own, I guess, so there wasn’t much for them to do.
