Once Upon a Billionaire(31)

That took all the fun out of the thought of going shopping. Maylee stared at her food until tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them away. She was sure he didn’t mean to be so cruel . . . did he? “Mr. Griffin—”

“Mr. Verdi,” he corrected. “Or Lord Montagne Verdi. Or Viscount Montagne Verdi. Not Mr. Griffin. Please watch your tongue when we’re at the royal palace.”

“I was going to say that I can’t really afford to buy new clothes, Mr. Verdi.” She carefully stressed his correct title. “Perhaps I should just stay behind,” she said in a small voice, scraping the caviar off the top of one of her slimy-looking eggs.

“Nonsense.”

She waited for more. Maybe you’re indispensable to me, Maylee or I need your help today or even a you’re great company, Maylee. Something that would tell her she wasn’t just an ugly, unfashionable burden on him.

When she looked up at him expectantly, he added, “I might have to change clothes for the royal portraits and you’ll need to be there to fix my tie.”

She sighed.

***

Maylee was utterly impossible to please.

Griffin had thought she’d be happy to get new clothes. Not only were hers hideous, but she was constantly knitting. When he saw the weird little shawl she’d worn earlier, he’d realized . . . she was so poor that she was creating her own clothing. And that made him feel terrible. He hadn’t even realized how underprivileged she was until then, and her embarrassment at not having anything decent to wear for the day was palpable. So he’d offered to take her shopping. She’d been excited when she’d thought they were going to a cheap tourist stand. At the thought of clothing, though?

She’d snapped her mouth shut and looked like a kicked puppy.

He didn’t know what to make of her. She had him all turned around this morning. He’d been nearly unable to sleep last night, fully aware of her body on the other side of the pillows. She talked in her sleep, too. No nightmares, just mutterings about home and if she had put the dog outside. Did she have a dog? Surely not with the size of apartment she’d mentioned having.

So he’d tossed and turned all night, listening to her mumble, before finally falling asleep sometime before dawn. He’d woken immediately, however, when the alarm went off . . . and was stunned when she’d rolled over and pressed her breast into his hand. Memories of that soft, full breast haunted him even now and made him break out into a cold sweat. He’d feigned sleepiness—hell, what else could he have done?—and she hadn’t seemed to notice that he’d clutched the sheets at his waist to hide his hard-on.#p#分页标题#e#

It was damn embarrassing being attracted to your employee. Especially when she was as completely inappropriate for his station as Maylee.

They’d finished breakfast in silence. He noticed that Maylee ended up pushing around her food more than she ate it, and he remembered how hungry she’d said she was. He supposed she wasn’t a fan of traditional Bellissime dishes like their breakfast of brandied sauce and caviar atop lightly poached eggs. Still, it was nice to eat in private, and after their dishes were cleared and he’d finished his coffee, they headed to the kitchen to give their thanks to the chef and his crew.

Griffin had to admit, Maylee was a genius when it came to handling staff. At first, he’d been skeptical of her plan for him to stop by the kitchen, but she’d politely explained that if he did five minutes of chatting with the staff, he wouldn’t be surprised by constant drop-ins and requests as he ate. And she’d been right. More than that, the staff positively beamed with pleasure as he went to talk to them and let them know how much he appreciated their delicious cooking.

He enjoyed it so much, he told them, that he wouldn’t mind a few wrapped sandwiches to take with them in the car. . . and immediately the staff had scrambled to make them.

Maylee pulled out her wallet and tried to pay, but everyone had protested so much that she’d eventually put it away. And to make up for the sandwiches, Griffin agreed to pose for a few photos.

Immediately, the staff whipped out smartphones, ready for such an occasion.

Ten minutes later, Griffin and Maylee left the kitchen, and her good mood had returned. “That was so sweet of you, Mr. Griffin,” she said in that twangy drawl. Her arms held the small brown paper bag of the sandwiches he’d requested. “You could tell how excited they were to meet you and get a picture with you. One-on-one time is important. It makes people feel valued.”

“Is this a lecture, Miss Meriweather?”