Page 95 of Peasants and Kings
I bit my lip. “Is there enough food to last a few days?”
She frowned. “Yes. It’s been stocked with fresh eggs, cheese, frozen meat pies I made just last week in the freezer. Why?”
“Take the next few days off,” I told her. “You don’t have to come here and entertain me.”
“But I took yesterday off,” she said, her tone perplexed. “And I’m not supposed to leave you alone. Hadrian’s orders.”
I smiled slightly. “Hadrian’s not here, is he?”
“Well, no.”
“Will he fire you? If you don’t comply?”
“No. He won’t fire me.”
“Then please, Ingrid. Let me have some space?” I stared at her and widened my eyes, beseeching her to give me what I wanted.
She studied me for a long moment and then she nodded. “All right. I’m calling him to let him know, though. About what you’ve asked. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Ingrid nibbled her lip. “Have you talked to him today?”
“No. Have you?”
“He called once to let me know he got to Edinburgh safely.”
Hadrian cared enough to let Ingrid know where he was, but he couldn’t—wouldn’t—offer me the same courtesy. Not even a text.
It was another reminder of the truth of our relationship.
Tiffany was right. I couldn’t think of myself as Hadrian’s girlfriend.
Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.
“You better get home before it starts coming down,” I told her.
She headed for the mudroom to catch the elevator that would take her to the garage. “I like you, Eden,” she said with the same forthright honesty she’d used with me from the moment I met her.
“I like you, too,” I said.
She looked like she wanted to say more but decided against it when she closed her mouth and nodded her head. When she got to the door of the mudroom, she said, “If you change your mind, please call. Even if it’s the middle of the night.”
“Thank you.” I wouldn’t take her up on the offer. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to sit in the dark with a glass of something strong and stare into the flames of the gas fireplace.
When Ingrid left, I did exactly that. I poured myself a glass of brandy from one of the crystal decanters, sipped on the amber liquid, and turned on the fireplace in the den. The sky darkened outside the massive living room window and the threat of rain drew closer. I watched from the couch as the storm finally arrived.
My conversation with Tiffany filtered through my mind. Hadrian was not my boyfriend and I was not his girlfriend.
This was a business arrangement.
A billionaire’s private island was my playground.
It was time to have some fun.
Chapter Twenty-One
Three days later, I blew into the house windswept and disheveled. I dropped my pair of sunglasses on the front table and sashayed into the living room and came to a stop.
