The Billionaire's Mask, page 3
As I’m chopping vegetables, it suddenly strikes me odd that the Master doesn’t bear any of the family names that were mentioned. He’s a Lucien.
CHAPTER TWO
BRANDON
TRY NOT TO MAKE IT too creepy... Try not to make it too creepy...
It’s really simple. She’ll just have to pick up the damn phone, and I’ll ask her what I need. It’s not like I’m going to show her my face.
It’s very little information in exchange for a fortune I made sure she can’t decline. I saw her profile so I knew exactly what she would need.
Damn it. But how am I supposed to talk to her if I’m this anxious?
I have not spoken to anyone besides my closest relatives for a long time. But this is the first time I think I’m close to reaching my objectives, and Oliver assured me that we finally found the right person.
That’s what I hope, at least.
“Brandon?”
I swivel my chair around and meet Oliver’s curious face. “Have you spoken to your new assistant? What is she like?” I ask.
“My new assistant or your new informant?” Oliver jokes and laughs. He pulls a chair in front of my desk and sits with his ankle resting on his knee.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, please.”
“She’s a little nervous and very curious, but I’m certain she’s talented. Though I also think she’s quite easy on the eyes.” A smirk plays on the side of his mouth.
I throw a crumpled paper at him. “I don’t care what she looks like! I need to know if she’s cooperative enough so we can move forward with our plans. How about you speak to her instead of me?”
His eyes squint at me. “You know that you have to be the one to speak to her.”
“You know my situation. I’ll only creep her out,” I retort. I pick up my stress ball and grip it to somehow relieve my agitation.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We can give it a little more time before moving forward, yes?” he advises.
“I waited long enough, don’t you think?” I grumble.
“She’ll be around. Besides...” Oliver stands up and stretches out his arms. “I really need an assistant or someone I can trust with your meals. You have to get used to other people’s cooking other than me and Lennie, and you know exactly what I mean,” he says frankly, and he has every right to say those words to me. I can’t depend on him my whole life just like I’ve done for the past decade.
I’m well aware that Oliver has a life of his own. Nevertheless, I honestly can’t imagine myself going through all this without him.
“And Lennie’s not going to be here forever,” he adds.
I gaze up at Oliver. “Neither can she,” I say, referring to his new assistant.
“You’re thinking too much. Relax, man. The future is uncertain,” he implies and grins. “Anyway, I have to get your dinner ready.”
ALAYNA
OVER THE PAST MONTH, everything has gone the same with me and Oliver. He is still funny, helpful, and I like being with him. I would’ve been so lonely if he wasn’t in the house. I feel like we can be good friends.
However, I’ve been busier than ever for the past few days. Oliver has been working long hours in the office and often comes home late. He’s still the company’s CEO after all. With as much as he does around the house, I’d almost forgotten.
We have never had many talks since then. Similarly, Madam Lennie would only come to my station when the food was ready to serve our Master in Oliver’s absence.
I’m getting used to my job. I love making good food, and I always dreamt of becoming a professional chef and owning a restaurant someday. Well, as an assistant, this position means a lot to me than being a food taster. Cooking has been my passion since my dad taught me how to move around the kitchen. He also used to tell me that good food was the way to reach people’s hearts. And I believed him. It reached mine as well.
My profession has been my escape from my greatest nightmares. I just wish he were still here to see me and my achievements.
Today is my lucky day because today’s lunch is beef stroganoff. This is the dish I feel I’ve already perfected; my mentor back in Venice would always praise me whenever I cooked it for her. I switch my mp3 music on, putting in my earphones before I start cooking.
I finished preparing the meal at eleven-thirty. I take out a bottle of Merlot from the mini wine cellar and place it on the marble island with a wine glass. I find a notepad and write a note on it.
“Master, I made you a topping sauce. It’s my own recipe. I hope you like it. -Alayna”
I leave the condiments to mix together and close the lid. An hour later, Madam Lennie finds me in the kitchen, bringing back empty dishware. I rejoice at the sign of a clean plate.
“Madam,” I greet her with a smile.
“Miss Hart,” she says. I can tell by her tone she is about to reprimand me, and my smile fades. “Master Brandon likes the meal, but he said it’s better if you don’t leave notes and clear the tray, or he’ll just throw it. Didn’t Sir Oliver tell you not to improvise?”
My mouth parted. She’s talking about the condiments I don’t see on the tray anymore. I couldn’t understand what was wrong. The Master liked the meal, and he ate all of it. Why were they both upset?
“But Madam, I only did that because—”
She doesn’t give me a chance to speak and leaves.
“Thanks, Madam!” I shout to the door, unsure if she even heard me or not.
Of course, I remember the improvisation rule, but I am also a chef. Oliver always told me that written recipes are not everything. He entrusted me with the Master’s meal, and I know very much that food shall not be taken lightly.
At dinner, I made him moussaka and served it with a parsley and mint salad and crusty bread. Deliberately, I take out my stick-on notes.
“Master Brandon, I’m glad to hear that you like the food, but those condiments were needed. Also, I added an egg soup. Kalí óreksi!”
Madam Lennie delivers empty dish wares in the kitchen a couple of minutes later, and she disappears. I guess Master didn’t complain this time, but then I noticed a note on the pepper mill.
You make good food, Miss Hart, I give you that, but I don’t think you need to put notes every time.
Oh my God! Did he just reply?
I smile in victory and laugh out loud. He has beautiful handwriting too.
Five days later, Oliver still isn’t working in the kitchen, though I’m pretty much enjoying my job as the days go by.
Ever since I started writing notes to the elusive Master Brandon Lucien, I’m beginning to feel his presence—like I’m actually cooking to serve a person. He isn’t so invisible anymore. He’s actually, and peculiarly, responding to my notes.
For today’s lunch, I heartily make him a marinated and smoked chicken with tzatziki sauce. This time, I made him brownies for dessert.
I write him a note again.
“Try the food with a glass of champagne. It tastes better.”
Madam Lennie doesn’t seem to mind me anymore, but she always tastes the food before serving it to the Master. As usual, I never expect a reaction from her. When she returns, I find another note from the Master, and this time, he provides a note clipper.
However, the brownie box went back untouched.
I read his note.
You’re right. A glass of champagne does taste better. But weren’t you told not to improvise? I don’t eat brownies.
I laugh at his answer. I’d already started improvising, but he was eating it anyway.
“Someone’s happy,” Oliver’s soothing voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He is leaning on the door’s frame with arms crossed over his chest, looking regal in his Bespoke three-piece-gray suit. I don’t usually see him in very formal business attire.
“Hi,” I greet him. “I’m making a savory pie.”
His eyes gleam and smile. “Oh wow. Would you give me some?”
“Sure. Let this cool for a second,” I briefly stop mincing the garlic and move over the crockery to grab a plate. I put two slices on the plate and carefully set it in front of him.
“Thank you.” He picks up one slice and takes a bite. “So, how’s your day?” he asks as he chews.
“I’m getting better.” I grin. “How are you?”
“The crucial days in the office are over,” he says. “I can work here again, but as I can see, you’re getting used to it.” Oliver flashes a smile and looks at me meaningfully.
“We’re talking now,” I say proudly and smile back.
“Yes, I heard about the notes.” He takes another slice of pie. “But how did you manage to pull that one, hmm?”
“I guess he’s telling you about it. I don’t know.” I shrug. “I just tried to write to him, but I didn’t expect that he would respond.”
“That’s progress, and since Lennie is already packed with the house chores, I really needed someone I could count on whenever I’m absent. Like you.”
“Right, but then Madam Lennie is still someone you could count on. She’s just a bit busier than everyone,” I comment. “I’m glad to work with you. You’ve been a good boss to me.”
“Just your boss?” he teases, and he’s doing it again, a playful smile on his lips.
“And a friend.”
His smile widens. “I wish to be friends with you too, Alayna.” He puts down the fork on the side of the empty plate with grace. “Thank you for this. I enjoyed the food.”
“You’re most welcome.”
“I’ll cook Brandon’s dinner tonight,” he offers and glances at the fish fillets on the prep area then back at me. “You’ve been busy for the past few weeks. Why don’t you go to my shelf now and grab my booklet?”
“Is it alright?”
“Yes, so we can start your next lesson. I have dishes I want to share with you.”
I grin. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be right here.”
I wash my hands thoroughly and take off my apron. Eager to see another one of Oliver’s recipe collection, I hurry out of the kitchen and head to the library.
I only want to take the booklet, but the library is so tempting to explore, I decided to stroll around. I go to the library’s second floor to check for more books, but the section is all about computers, systems, information technology—which isn’t my thing. However, it makes sense since Grethe and Elga Enterprises is a leading technology company in New York.
I wander some more and find another door. I open it and step inside, thinking that it could be the library’s extension. But to my surprise, I stumble to another room and a king-sized bed. It isn’t the library’s extension at all! I’m in someone else’s room.
However, there’s no sign of life inside, so I convince myself to calm down and explore a bit more. I step back and find another door to escape. Wanting to get out, I open the door, only to find out it isn’t the exit I’m expecting.
A sound of running water coming from the shower catches my attention. My eyes widen in shock to find a broad, ripped, muscular back of a tall man. He had a slim waist, and his back had defined muscle cuts. I stagger back, but my eyes trail down to the most perfect, round butt I’d ever seen in my life.
Every hair on my body stands in the sight of him. It isn’t that it’s my first time seeing a man’s behind, but his back is undeniably different from any I have seen before. He’s sexy.
Oh my! Is he the Master?
I turn quickly, realizing I’m trespassing someone else’s privacy.
“Who’s there?” an angry scream reverberated.
I swiftly run out of the room until I miraculously find the door where I came from and escape. The stairway toward the mansion’s left-wing catches my view, and I find Madam Lennie waiting at the bottom. I’m even more nervous now. She is glaring at me, her arms crossed over her chest. When did she get there?
“Miss Hart,” her voice was tight. “Are you clueless, or can you simply not follow directions?” she demanded. This was the first time in weeks I heard her stern voice again.
“I was in the library, and then—” I try to reason. “I got lost. I’m sorry,” I apologize, catching my breath.
“It’s been a little more than a month, and you’re already making trouble. I understand that this house is huge, bigger than you can imagine. What’s unacceptable is your disobedience of my number one rule.”
“What did I do?”
“The Master called me. He said someone was in his room.”
Oh, gosh. Of course, he’s the Master. Who else could it be?
“You are the newbie here, so I believe it was you,” she continues. “Sir Oliver had high hopes about you, and he’s never wrong, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“I understand...” I answer lowly.
God, I don’t want to disappoint Oliver now. Our working relationship is doing so well. What would he think about me now? He even entrusted me access to the library; surely, none of the employees could go there freely.
“I admit it, but like I said, I got lost! I will never deny my mistake, but I was hoping you would understand, Madam.”
“I don’t like the way you answered me. Follow me,” she says with caution. She doesn’t seem to like anything I do. Maybe she doesn’t even like the fact that I’m breathing.
“I’m sorry. Um, where are we going?”
“The Master wants to talk to the person who invaded his room. It’s also the first time an employee gets fired on her first month.”
“What? What do you mean fired? This is crazy! I didn’t mean to come into his room,” I explain with guilt while walking fast behind her. My thoughts hover to millions of excuses I’d say to convince her not to bring me to the Master. I have a bad feeling about this. I’m not actually ready to see the Master yet.
But being ready wouldn’t matter to him. And, well, I already saw him. Not all of him, just his back. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to see his face.
However, the scene I saw keeps playing on my mind. He is tall, with his broad, wide shoulders. His arms were spread wide, which made his triceps flex. He has ample legs that make me wonder how it would feel to be wrapped around them—
I shut my eyes. I have completely lost my mind.
“Miss Hart, it’s time that you finally meet him.” She spins around and finally faces me. “And just so you know, you don’t need to see him to be able to talk to him.”
Uh, what?
I quietly follow Madam Lennie as we stroll through a corridor I haven’t seen before. I can’t help but overthink my situation. I suddenly want to speak with Oliver to apologize and probably ask him to help me with his cousin. I don’t want to lose the job.
But how do I get away with this? How is it possible that I don’t have to see him to be able to talk to him? What’s the point of talking to me if he would fire me, anyway? Though I remember that he has every reason to. In the past weeks, I tried improvising dishes and sending him notes. Maybe he’s already fed up with me.
We stop by another sculptured wooden door.
“The Master shall speak with you inside. You don’t need to knock. You’ll find a white door upon getting in. Open the door and sit on the chair provided.” Her face is stone-cold. She is looking at the space behind me, avoiding my eyes. How she explained it makes me feel like I’m visiting a prisoner.
I do what I’m told. There might be a chance I won’t get fired if I obey quietly.
Madam Lennie’s stolid face vanishes slowly when she closes the door.
I’m surprised that the entrance looks sunny as I find the white door Madam Lennie is referring to. It’s probably the simplest door inside the mansion. It’s flat white without any carvings or designs, possessing only a silver doorknob. I slowly open it with my already sweaty palm.
I gasp at the sight I see. Another medium-sized, empty room appears in front of me. There is nothing on the walls, and everything is painted in white, except for a computer and a telephone placed on a glass table.
The entire room is giving me chills. It’s like an interrogation room for criminals. I knew the Master was a bit eclectic, but this confirms my suspicions that he isn’t normal at all. He’s a weirdo.
Why would he put something like this in his house? Then I remember what Oliver told me before. He asked me not to freak out. Is this what he meant by that now?
The telephone on the desk abruptly rings.
“Oh my God!” I yelp in surprise. I touch my chest, for my heart is pounding abnormally. All I could think about is running for my life. How could anyone expect me not to get freaked out by this?
“Answer the phone and sit,” a cold, stern voice suddenly speaks loudly. I look up and find a large, implanted speaker in the gray-colored ceiling.
God. This is creepy. I swallow. If I could only chew my nervousness like a delicious meal, I’d have a happy stomach.
“I believe I told you to sit,” he says again, and honestly, his voice doesn’t sound eerie at all. It even sounds... melodious.
But the realization hits me. How does he know I’m not sitting?
Oh, no. He can see me. He can see how nervous and afraid I am.
I slowly walk toward the chair and sit down. I blow out a deep breath.
“Now, place the telephone on your ear so I can hear you speak,” he instructs.
Hesitantly, I reach for the white wireless telephone, then place it on my ear.
“Hello?”
“Good girl.” The voice is still coming from the speakers and not on the telephone. This is getting more and more strange.
Is this man the famous billionaire Chairman Brandon Lucien? I’m beginning to have a doubt. What if he is really some psychotic man who murders—
No, no. He can’t be that. I’m sure I entered the right house. It’s Oliver Katrakis, the CEO of Grethe and Elga Enterprises with whom I worked the past month—which means this man over the phone is indeed the faceless Chairman everyone speaks about. The man who answered my notes. I probably watched too many horror films.
“So, Alayna. Why did you come to my room?”
