The Billionaire's Mask, page 7
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t mind, right? Joining me for dinner?” he doubtfully asks.
I smile but slightly astonished. “Not if you’re going not to walk out on me.” I shrug.
“I won’t. I promise.”
THE AWKWARDNESS IS undeniable. The world takes its time spinning, and everything seems to be in slow motion.
I clear my throat. I want to ask him why he asked me to have dinner with him. He doesn’t socialize with other people, but he can actually eat with someone comfortably. This might be the first time he shared tables with somebody.
“Stop staring,” he says softly.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I look away quickly. “But if you don’t mind me asking—”
“I was wondering when your next barrage of questions was coming.” He continues to eat delightfully.
I can’t help but notice how gorgeous he is, even if it’s only half of his face. It’s just too bad he’s wearing a mask.
I search for any mark or scar that might have slipped out a little, but I see nothing. Maybe he has hidden it faultlessly. Or perhaps not. I’m not even sure if he really had a scar there.
“I told you to stop staring.” He meets my gaze this time, jolting me back to reality.
“I was wondering why you asked me to eat with you,” I say swiftly, then close my eyes.
“Why do you ask?”
“It’s just... You don’t go outside your room and never meet with other people, but you can comfortably eat with someone.”
He laughs as if I just said something hilarious. “I’m not sure if it’s funny or insulting that you’re basically describing the life of a beast,” he chuckles. “To feed your curiosity, I eat with Oliver every single night, Miss Hart.”
“Of course. How thoughtless of me.” I chuckle fretfully. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Lucien—I mean, Master. It’s really hard to call you Master.”
“You can call me whatever you like.”
I’m slightly stunned at his reaction and how he is surprisingly calm about it. “Thank you, but I’d rather call you Master. Madam Lennie might hear me calling you whatever I like.”
“The dinner was great.” He puts down his empty plate and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Thank you, Miss Hart.”
“You’re welcome. So...” I clear my throat. “If you need anything, you can just call me.” I’m done with mine as well, so I finally stand and start clearing the table.
“You’re leaving?” he asked, sounding confused.
“Yes, thank you for letting me share the meal with you, and I’m sorry again about your mom and sister.”
He nods and springs up as well, walking to the couch.
Lying on my back that night, I stare at the ceiling of my room feeling delightful. Deep inside, I know and feel that the Master has a good and generous heart, but he makes me think about him too much.
I roll to my side, resting my head on my arm. I still have too many unanswered questions about him. What is he hiding beneath the mask? Are there scars? Did someone hurt him? How did his family die?
I exhale in frustration. It’s not that I even care. I’ve only known him for a very short time. I’ve barely talked to him, but he is kind to me. I finally doze off, picturing the Master taking his mask off as the lights dim.
“ALAYNA, I DIDN’T EXPECT you to be this early.” Oliver waltzes into my station in his running outfit the next morning. A white towel is hanging on his shoulder, and one bud of his earphones is still in his ear. Judging by his looks, he’s probably going for a run.
“Good morning, Oliver. Going for a run?”
“Yes, my morning routine.” He glances at the small bowl I’m holding. “Oh, you’re making crêpes.”
“Yep, and I made a syrup. My own recipe,” I brag, smiling. “Strawberry this time.” I lift the spoon and taste it. I circle my tongue as I savor the sweet taste of honey and strawberry. My most favorite flavor of all. “I think this is good.”
I put three layers of crêpes on a plate, then pour the strawberry syrup on top. Oliver is watching me as I put bacon and eggs on another plate.
“Let me help you.” Oliver transfers the plates to the trolley, then opens the fridge and takes a pitcher of water and lemon. He slices the lemon into thin strips and drops the slices in the water. “And since you’re officially his private chef, and this is not listed on the schedule, give him this every Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays. He works out after breakfast, and today is Friday.”
“Work out?” I frown, confused. “Oh, of course. He has his gym in this house. I’m so silly.”
“Yes.” He smiles. “All done! Off you go.”
“Thank you.”
“Alayna, I’ve noticed you haven’t been outside since you came here.”
I look up at him with a frown. “Oh, yeah. I haven’t, right?”
“You know you should go out sometime and see the city. I thought you said you’ve never been to New York before.”
“I actually haven’t thought of going out. But you’re right, I’ve always wanted to see the city. Master actually gave me a gift card to one of the spas nearby. I might use it.”
Oliver’s forehead wrinkles. “He gave you a pass to the spa?”
“I was a little surprised too, but who am I to refuse?”
“What did I tell you? He’s a good man.”
I shrug. “I think so now.”
“Maybe I’ll drop you off at the spa,” Oliver offers. “I’m going to the city tomorrow anyway. But only if you like.”
“You will do that?”
“Of course.” He beams.
“Yeah, sure. I’d love to.” I chuckle nervously.
“Oh, take that to him now.” His hand motions to the food trolley. “He’s probably done with his exercise.”
“Oh, right. Thanks for the tips, as always.”
He chuckles softly. “Don’t mention it.”
I push the trolley outside and carefully walk through the hallways. It is very early, and the house’s silence is deafening.
I knock on the Master’s door thrice but don’t hear an answer, so I step inside. The dimness of the light in his room added the feeling of crispness, tempting me to light up the fireplace and settle on the couch with a cup of coffee. I even imagine myself sitting with the Master. The thought alone makes me feel giddy.
I find the air-conditioner’s remote control on the table, and I lower the temperature, so the food won’t cool down. I then set his breakfast on the table by the window.
“Alayna?”
My head shot up, jolting a little when I heard my name coming from his deep voice. I love it when he says my name. I finally see the Master in front of another door.
Still concealed by a mask, the Master is bare on top, and his chest is glistening with beads of his sweat. He is only wearing gray sweatpants that define his shapely torso. A white towel hangs on his shoulder. My throat dries up at the sight of him. His muscles are ripped, hard, and I instantly ache to run my fingers on his chiseled abs. He is simply breathtaking.
“I brought you your breakfast,” I try to speak nonchalantly.
He is panting heavily, and his gray eyes are looking directly at mine. “Hmm, thank you.” He paces towards me and checks the food. “You can leave now, Miss Hart.”
I suddenly thought of telling him about going out this weekend with his cousin. “Master, if I may, could I take a short break tomorrow? It’s Saturday.”
“It’s fine. I won’t call you on your rest day.” Of course, no reasonable employer should call you during your rest day.
I smile, satisfied with his answer. “Thank you, Master. Oliver actually offered to drop me off at the spa.”
His brows furrow. “Oliver offered?”
“Yes, since he said he’s going to the city tomorrow anyway.” I feel like I have to explain. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. “Is this alright?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
I grin in victory. “Thank you, Master!” I clasp my hands together. “Oh, you should eat your breakfast while it’s still hot. I’m sorry, I was late. Oliver told me that you work out after breakfast.”
“I don’t work out after breakfast. I work out before.” He opens the lid and slightly sniffs the smell. I think I see him smile a little.
And I still can’t stop grinning, too excited for tomorrow. “Oh, maybe he just misspoke.”
I watch him settle on the seat and pick up the utensils but still doesn’t touch the food. “You may leave, Alayna. You can pick up the dishes later,” he says in a glacial tone, and quietly, I leave his room again. But something inside me doesn’t want to.
CHAPTER SIX
AT PRECISELY NINE O’CLOCK in the morning on Saturday, Oliver pulls over in front of me with his black Aston Martin. The window of his car glides down and reveals his face with a smile.
“Hey, Alayna. Did you wait long?”
“Hey... um,” I clear my throat, “you’re just in time.”
“Come on in,” he invites, cocking his head. I open the passenger door and step inside, then he drives away.
Ollie said he’s going to briefly meet some person today, but I did not bother asking him where he’s going. He promised he’ll fetch me after the spa so we can go home together.
The receptionist at the G&E Spa acknowledges Oliver right away and assists us. I watch how he makes the receptionist blush with his captivating smile, which makes me realize Oliver is naturally kind to everyone. He introduces me to her. She tells me her name’s Sarah and calls over another young woman. I follow her to the back of the spa. Oliver waves his hand at us and leaves the building.
Moving through the entrance is like entering another world. Every arched doorway is framed by pearl silk, while the ornamented pillows decorate elegant armchairs and chaises.
There are small decorative bamboo fountains, and soft instrumental music is playing on the hidden speakers. The air smells of floral fragrances that warms my senses, making me feel like I’ve escaped into some kind of sophisticated garden.
The G&E Spa owned by none other than Master Brandon Lucien is luxurious, a generous treat for those who can afford it, and now I’m going to enjoy it for free. The attendant gives me a menu of treatments. The spa has individual suites for a sauna, manicure and pedicure salon, a facial, a mustard foot soak to help with body aches and pains, and some skincare treatment packs.
She told me my gold certificate covers six-thousand worth of treatments—making me want to faint but also thinking I’m probably the luckiest customer for having such a card. I think thoroughly about what I needed. I need a waxing, a specialty massage, and just general pampering. For once, I’m able to afford all three, and I couldn’t be more excited.
I take a deep breath as I relax when the massage therapist’s expert hands move their way on my body.
After the lovely hours at the spa, Oliver is waiting for me in the lobby, reading a magazine. I clear my throat to get his attention, and he tenses up when he sees me.
“How did it go?”
I giggle. “I’ve never felt so light in my life. I feel amazing.”
He nods. “And I’m glad you enjoyed it. Come, I’ll take us somewhere we can eat for late lunch. Do you mind Mexican?” he invites.
“Mexican. Sure, I’d love to.”
The restaurant we go to is a casual outdoor restaurant located in Hell’s Kitchen on the West Side of Manhattan. I didn’t expect Oliver would take me here. Nonetheless, I don’t really mind.
We settle at a table, and my eyes widen at the menu. There are so many options... and they’re all so expensive. I wonder if I should take advantage of Oliver’s generosity or ask him to take us somewhere cheaper. A few minutes later, plates of quesadillas, taquitos, the restaurant’s famous chicken enchiladas, and two glasses of horchata arrive at our table. Eagerly, I pick up a piece of enchilada and take my first bite. I hum in both delight and pleasure, closing my eyes as I taste the food.
“I haven’t had Mexican food in such a long time.”
Oliver laughs at my reaction. He picks up a piece for himself. “This restaurant is one of my favorites. I know the chef.”
I look around us, and almost all the tables are occupied. “It’s pretty popular, I see. Maybe we can try these dishes at home,” I suggest.
“The kitchen’s yours, Alayna. I’ve seen how you got Brandon to try your own recipes even when you were told not to improvise,” he teases.
“Oh. I’m sorry about that.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “I’m just flexible when it comes to food.”
“It’s fine. Brandon likes it anyway.” He drinks his horchata delightfully. “A real chef always brings out a masterpiece. An artist in the kitchen...”
IT’S ALREADY PAST SEVEN when we return home. My legs and feet already feel so sore, so I soak my body in the jacuzzi, adding the water with some milk I got from the spa. I choose some relaxing instrumental music and plug in my earbuds.
After the bath, I chose a very comfy silk robe and lay on my bed. I grab my phone and call Mom.
“Hey, Mom. How did your therapy go today?” I ask.
“I feel great, Alayna. The numbness of my left hand and fingertips decreased. It’s amazing.”
“That’s so great to hear.”
It’s the first session of her therapy today, but I didn’t completely tell Mom why I suddenly have the means to send her to exclusive therapy sessions. I wasn’t able to provide her complete care before because the treatment is beyond our budget. But last week, Mom received a call from the best private orthopedic hospital in Lawrence, Kansas, and ‘I’ was the one who admitted her as their new patient.
“Thank you, but you still didn’t tell me how you managed to get me these treatments. I know hospitals like that with famous doctors who appear on TV are expensive.”
“I have a great signing bonus with my new employer,” I half-lie, though it is indeed what the Master promised me. I just omitted the other details. “Besides, you’ve been suffering from it for years now. You and the kids are my first priority.”
She sighs on the other line. “But you still have to save for yourself.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I can manage. I’m living the dream here. I finally get to see New York.”
“Oh, how is it there, honey?” she asks excitedly.
“I went for a walk around Manhattan today. I went to a relaxing spa and a very delicious treat in a Mexican restaurant. Then I thought about you. I wish you were all here.”
“One day, darling. We can all be together again.” I feel her smile from the other line. “Just always remember: Be good to your colleagues. It’s easier to work that way.”
“Don’t worry. My superiors are very kind and generous,” I say, referring to Oliver and Master Brandon.
“I’m glad everything is going great with you. I know I shouldn’t worry about you, but I can’t help it.”
I chuckle. “There’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”
The rest of the weekend was full of relaxation. The painful muscles in my hands, arms, and back are gone. For the rest of Sunday, I spent all my time reading a new book and watched cooking shows on the internet.
On Monday morning, I deliver the food to the Master, and even if he doesn’t ask me how my weekend went, I thanked him for the spa.
“It’s been so relaxing. Thank you, Master.”
He nods casually and lifts the lid of his food. “You’re welcome, Miss Hart.” He sits at the table while I serve him the plates and stops when he notices something else on his plate. “What is this?”
“It’s quesadillas. I know it’s not on your schedule, but Oliver and I went to a Mexican restaurant and had this. I just thought of making some for you. It’s really delicious.”
He raises an eyebrow at me and exhales.
“Is there something wrong? I can just take that away—”
“No, it’s fine.” He looks up at me. “But why is it that everything you do is against the rules?”
I couldn’t answer for a moment. He’s right, I’ve broken some rules, but he permitted it. I’ve added private touches in his meals, but he ate it anyway. He let me see him, allowed me to speak with him like this, while the others can only speak to him in that room.
“I’m sorry if I’ve been so nosy. Maybe this is just the way I am. I mean, I’m not justifying it, I was wrong and—”
“Do you understand what’s happening here, Miss Hart?” he cuts me off, gazing up at me with his shrewd and gouging eyes.
Semi-dazed with his question, I hold his gaze. I can’t get over how beautiful he is. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“But you don’t.” His scowl darkens and his expression is confused. “It’s strange that you don’t.”
His words make my cheeks flare. “Sorry.”
“You keep saying sorry, but you still do whatever you want,” he states. “I might as well give you permission to everything you do here.”
“What? You don’t have to do that.”
“But I have. In the future, you’ll have to tell me first before you want to add something to my meal before serving it to me.”
I finally smile in delight. “Of course, I will,” I say breathlessly.
“And I assume you know where these doors lead?” he asks, referring to the rooms and doors in his space. I nod. “Two doors on the right-side lead to the library and the one at the left is to the gym.”
“Yes.”
“Except, of course, the door beside my bed—that’s my bathroom.”
“Yes, um, that too.” I briefly shut my eyes, remembering my first encounter with him. “Why are you giving me permission now, if I may ask?”
“You are like a storm, Miss Hart. With your very nosy character, anything could happen.”
What?
“Now, you can leave,” he instructs and picks up the quesadilla first, which adds to my joy.
I decided to just come back later to get the plates. I’d disturbed him enough with my presumptuous actions. I might as well let the man eat peacefully.
