Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Hi Mr. Purdy,” she says in a low voice. “Thank you for coming.”
“Sweetheart, I live here, remember?” I answer in a deep voice. “But it’s fine. You’re tired and exhausted from the events of the day. Do you want to go upstairs to lie down? Almost everyone’s gone.”
“No, of course not,” Jenna says quickly. “I’m okay. The apple cider your staff served is delicious, by the way. And the mini-cheese croquettes too. Yum.”
I place a massive hand on her narrow shoulder, and at first, Jenna stiffens a bit. But then she relaxes into my touch, and a powerful rush of emotion surges in my chest. The young woman is vulnerable and she needs me. I want to protect her at any cost, and lower my voice into a rumble.
“If you don’t feel comfortable taking a nap, at least take a short break. I’ll stay here and handle the guests, so no one will notice. Just relax a little, and take some time to breathe. You deserve it, sweetheart.”
The young blonde stares at the ground, but I can sense weariness permeating her form. Her shoulders slump a bit as she nods, her chin pointed and delicate.
“Sure, maybe I’ll sit for a moment. Should I use your parlor?”
“No, sweetheart, because the guests will find you. Here, we have a second kitchen off of the first. Let me take you there, and no one will even suspect where you are.”
With one hand on Jenna’s shoulder, I gently guide her past the remaining guests, through the massive dining room, and then through the large kitchen on the first floor. Behind the main kitchen is a second one, complete with a six-burner stove, two ovens, a massive fridge, as well as cabinets stocked with plates, utensils, serving platters, and the like. Jenna pauses as she takes in the space.
“Wow,” she remarks in a low tone. “I didn’t know that people kept two fully functional kitchens in their homes.”
I grin, the corner of my mouth twitching as I pull out a stool for her to sit on.
“Yeah, it happens with big houses sometimes. It’s one of the necessities when you entertain a lot because cooking can be a steamy, smelly, not to mention loud affair. It’s disruptive when I have guests over. Plus, you can can imagine the frenetic hustle and bustle of my staff when I throw a dinner party. As a result, a lot of homes this size are built with a second kitchen just off the first where they do the actual work. That way, the main one that guests see stays pristine, and people can socialize and enjoy themselves without being presented with the sight of massive cauldrons bubbling, and raw meat being chopped.”
That makes Jenna smile.
“Cauldrons bubbling? Raw meat being chopped? Surely, they’d have that done before the guests arrive, right?”
“Maybe,” I shrug with a grin while pouring two glasses of lemonade from the fridge. “I’m not a chef myself, so I’m not sure exactly how the kitchen works, but my staff is excellent, and I know I can trust my butler, Mr. Brearley, to handle everything.
Jenna nods as she sips her lemonade. She’s so beautiful, and yet also lost looking as she sits on the stool in her black dress with her drink in hand. She’s tiny in the huge space, her blonde hair gleaming in the low light, and I want nothing more than to protect her. To make her happy. To make her laugh. Hell, I have a sudden vision of Jenna sitting right on this very stool with a big belly, smiling at me as she sips a glass of lemonade. She’d be swollen and gorgeous, and I’d be the man who put the baby inside her.
Are you fucking serious? the voice in my head screams. You’ve gone from taking dirty pictures of this woman to imagining her as the mother of your brood? Hell no! Who the hell even has a child with a woman who does Only Fans?
But I shrug the voice away because I don’t care about shit like that. Other men have alleged “standards,” meaning that they marry a woman with a fancy college degree, a perfect pedigree, and who conducts herself like a princess among “polite society.” But I know what happens in the end. Said dudes get bored of their wives, and they start cheating. It’s as simple as that. They don’t necessarily go to regular strip clubs with hoochies trying to make a buck, but they do join exclusive members-only gentlemen’s clubs which feature gorgeous women like Jenna, who are discreet, beautiful, sassy, and sometimes down on their luck. I know because I belong to several of these said gentlemen’s clubs, and I see married men all the time. Some of the dudes don’t even take off their wedding bands on premises, and it doesn’t bother anyone: not management, not the other patrons, nor even the women. No one is there to judge what powerful billionaires do with their time and money; instead, it’s the alpha males who call the shots, and the girls are only too happy to do their bidding.