LOVING THE REJECTED BILLIONAIRE

I have been Adrian’s maid for just a week, and what I can say is, so far, so good. Angel is such a disciplined young girl, and for this one week, she hasn’t given me any trouble. She is a sweet and disciplined kid, no doubt. There is also not as much work here as I had speculated. It’s just preparing Angel and taking her to and from school, which is easy because we have a chauffeur, and sprucing up the house. With a washing machine that took me two days to be able to use, washing is just so easy and fast.Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

The fact that we order food from outside makes everything a leisurely experience here. I never get to cook, and I don’t know why Adrian doesn’t want me to. They have an elegant modern kitchen with all the utensils, but no cooking is done here. I kind of feel like my passion for cooking will be a waste here.

Most of the time, I’m just idle. Like now…

“Hello!” Adrian’s voice startles me, and I spring up from the couch to go grab his backpack.

“Hello! Welcome, sir Adrian.” I say as I stretch my hands to take his bag as a militant maid who knows her duties well, but he doesn’t let me.

Right! Damn me! That bounced out of my mind again. I am in for some hot scolding!

“How many times do I have to tell you that you only take care of Angel and not me?” He asks with a tinge of fury in his voice.

From head-scratching to hunching my head, averting my gaze from him, gripping the helm of my dress as if it’s where my brain is parked, to holding my breath, I think I have even swallowed my tongue.

Goodness!

I keep forgetting that, no matter how many times he has told me. It’s becoming a daily lullaby. I wonder why his chronic howls, despite how frigid they make me, just enter through one ear and leave straight through the other.

“Sorry, sir!” I whimper after amassing my voice and courage, stepping back, and almost kissing the floor with my head as I hunch deeper.

“How exactly do you want me to explain it to you, Tania? Because I am damn tired of reciting it over and over again and again.” His voice softens but holds the same demeanor-cold as ice and despotic.

My quivers ripple in multiplied abundances.

This is how he rips off my bravery. I always feel like a weak deer in front of a hungry lion.

“I got it now, sir! I won’t repeat it ever again.” I hope my servant’s tendencies won’t kick in every time I see him sauntering in through that door.

“You better not, because I am not going to repeat this. Where is Angel?” He adds.

“I have just put her to bed, sir!” I retort.

“She only sleeps this early because of the cold weather and school. In favorable climates and school holidays, she goes to bed late.” He explains.

“Okay, sir!”

“I’ll go see Angel.” He starts his way up, and I was about to acquit the breath I was holding all that while, until he spoke again. “And Tania?” At the command of his voice, I spin around, crinkling my breath somewhere in my throat.

“Sir?” I mumble.

“That “sir” is annoying! Drop it!”

Huh???!!!

I mean, what? I thought… Forget what I thought, since it doesn’t matter anymore. What am I supposed to call him? Adrian Ashton? Mr Ashton? Adrian?

He ambles upstairs without a flash at me, and I slam down on the sofa after a minute. I should make a list of all the things that he doesn’t like. He is a raw man of few to no words, and making him repeat one thing to me over and over every day is making me look incompetent and dumb. Plus, heck! I don’t want him snapping at me like that. I am too young to suffer a heart attack or become deaf from his howlings.

“Okay, Tania. No, sir, and no helping him. No, sir, and no help.” I keep repeating that for I don’t know how long until Adrian startles me again, making me almost lunge from the couch

“And what are you doing?” He quizzes.

Men, does he have a wish to scare me to death someday?

“Reciting the don’ts so that they stick in my mind.” I answer, trying to act concocted, but I know I am failing miserably.

He just shakes his head and walks to the kitchen.

With this cold and the savage storm of raw adrenaline wrecking my cool, I miss coffee so much. It’s my best relief remedy. Can’t he allow me to make even just simple coffee?

Like a robot, I stand up and follow him to the kitchen.

Knocking on the door as gently as I can, I wait for a reply.

“The only door you are expected to knock on before coming in is my bedroom.” He speaks from inside, and I drag my feet inside.

He is just parked on a stool, scrolling his phone, perhaps checking emails or something. He is all work. Goes to bed thinking about work. Dreams about work. Wakes up for work. I bet his blood also flows because of work. The reason behind that, I don’t know. It’s none of my business. But… Anyways…

I scan around the magnificent kitchen, and I spot a tin of Nescafe coffee on one of the shelves, and I just cannot control the urge for my lemon and honey coffee. My!

“Aah… Andy? Can I…?”

Hell. Hot. Shiiieeet!

What sort of name just rolled out of my running mouth, huh? Andy? Really??!!

I slowly turn around to confront his supposed burning face, and I meet his dark brown eyes gawking at me. I was expecting to see a shock or a disgruntled look on his face, but he is just there, emotionless. Flat, and…

“Sorry.” I quickly apologize, trying to deduce what he seems to be thinking about.

“I will punish you for that.” He proclaims with a cocked eyebrow, his facial idiom changing in a flicker.

Punishment?

Damn!