Page 30 of My Orc Contract Husband (Eastshore Isle #9)

Abydos

My watch beeped, and I glanced at it without processing why.

Hells, was that the time? Thank fuck Sylvik programmed alerts for me, or I would’ve missed the interviews altogether.

It was amazing what the little fae could do from halfway across the country; order my favorite groceries for delivery, prep my plane for takeoff, weed through three dozen applications and schedule interviews, whatever.

In this case, he’d even done the first two rounds of phone interviews and narrowed down the field, so I wouldn’t have to interact with anyone more than necessary.

I owed him, but it wasn’t like I’d ever actually tell him that. I didn’t do mushy crap .

With a few keystrokes, I closed the reports I’d been reviewing and pulled up the resumes and Sylvik’s impressions of the?—

Oh .

Frowning, I scrolled through the pages. There was only one applicant? Or only one applicant Sylvik thought I should meet?

Hmm . The further I got through the resume, the more I could see why he narrowed it down to just this one… He had exactly the experience I’d asked for, and some of the descriptions of the dishes he suggested made my mouth water.

Yeah, I was probably the only billionaire who put this much effort into hiring his private chef. Which meant I was the only sane one, right?

I’d grown up eating raw fish and fire-roasted mash.

And yeah, sometimes I had a craving for that sort of stuff—I could put away some sushi, let me tell you—but having a twin brother like Aswan, who had his own restaurant until he’d been foolish enough to fall in love with his Mate, had taught me how much I liked the finer foods the human world could offer.

Like peanut butter.

I was a sucker for peanut butter.

And pasta. And lambchops. And a really creamy brie with cranberry. And a… I peered closer at the screen as my eyes widened. This chef’s description of his signature miso black cod and bokchoy made my stomach rumble .

We were on an island. I was suddenly in the mood for fish.

I had to admit, this resume was impressive.

Or maybe I was just hungry.

Growling in irritation at myself, I scrolled up to the top of the document again. Slyvik had outdone himself—found a single candidate who checked all my requirements.

Willing to relocate to Eastshore Isle and live in a private apartment in this house.

A brilliant and inventive chef.

And willing to put up with working for me .

Knowing Sylvik—who’d put up with me for years—that last one might have been what he’d focused on during the interviews.

Still, this guy—Riven Starr—seemed ideal. And if Sylvik had approved him, and I was already half in love with his proposed menus, then this interview was only a formality.

Riven Starr, huh?

I shook my head as I pushed away from my desk in the large study.

Riven? Was that a fae name? Could be minotaur—the name sounded minotaurish—but they tended to shy away from the number of beef dishes on the proposed menu. Gargoyles had harder syllables, and Riven sounded far too melodic for them .

Nah. “Hundred bucks the guy’s fae. Nepotism much, Sylvik?” I muttered to no one at all.

The cleaning staff wasn’t due to return until Monday, and I was totally alone in the recently completed house.

The way I liked it.

This side of the house was my favorite. The study, dining room and my private suite all boasted floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the north cliffs of Eastshore Isle.

Most of the time there was sunshine and seagulls and other cheery shit, but today was my favorite weather; heavy clouds and a strong wind that made the sea oats blow sideways.

I paused before one of the windows, moving close enough that I couldn’t see my reflection. I’d spent ten years avoiding my reflection.

When Sakkara had reached out to me two years ago to tell me that so many of our cohort had decided to move to Eastshore, I’d scoffed. Who the fuck wanted to live among so many humans? You couldn’t trust them, never knew what they were plotting behind their smiles.

I’d made the mistake once, and I wasn’t going to be dumb enough to do it again.

Which is why it was galling as fuck when Sakkara had contacted us again after the new year’s turning and wooed the rest of the guys out here. Sure, my two younger brothers had moved to Eastshore and found Mates, but that didn’t mean Aswan and I had to.

Except he did. And my best friend Tarkhan went to, as well as young Akhmim, who was like a kid brother to us all. And once they’d made the decision to move, then I agreed to visit.

It had been Tarkhan’s idea to build this house so I’d have an office near my shareholders, and a place to stay when— if ?—I visited. I’d been avoiding being here too often, but if this private chef was as good as his resume claimed…

Orc senses are much better than any human expected, but whoever just stepped through my front door wasn’t making any effort to be quiet.

“Hello?” I heard the distant call. “Um…Mr. Sylvik told me I should just come in?”

Right, because I had no intention of answering a door like a butler. Sylvik would’ve told him to just come to the office for the interview.

Let’s see if he can follow directions.

Distant lightening lit the gray clouds, and my eyes tracked it. Hope I get to see the storm roll in . That was always a sight to behold. If I couldn’t be tucked away safe in the mountains, at least I had this view to compensate me.

I heard footsteps in the hall—light enough to be fae, and if I did anything as crass as smirk, I might’ve smirked then, knowing I’d won my wager with myself.

Another lightening strike, closer this time, and I almost missed the sound of the knock at the door.

“Mr. Abydos?”

I snorted softly. Mister . That respect was the whole point of having all this money. “Come in,” I rumbled, not looking away from the gathering storm .

The door shut behind him, light footfalls on the thick carpet. “Mr. Abydos, I wasn’t sure if you wanted a demonstration of my skills, but when I’ve interviewed other times I brought a sample, so I hope you don’t mind I brought a collection of desserts?”

I heard him cross to my desk, likely to place down whatever collection he carried, but I’d frozen, half in disbelief, half furious.

In the dark glass in front of my nose, I could suddenly see my eyes widen, see the spark of green which flared when an orc was truly enraged.

Because that scent?

That was a human .

There was a human in my home, in my space .

Slowly, I turned, my fingers curling into fists at my side to keep from smashing something. How fucking dare Sylvik pull this shit! I would be firing his ass first thing tomorrow—hiring a human .

And then I got a good look, and rage closed my throat.

Chef blacks, a neat white apron over slender hips; brown curls bouncing above sharp brows and hopeful blue eyes; straight teeth chewing on a plump lower lip…the entire package was what I’d heard described as puckish…elven without being an elf.

And beautiful.

So godsdamn beautiful I felt my claws extending, digging into my palms .

Because Riven Starr was not only not fae, she was a female. Sylvik had sent a human female into my home, contaminating the whole fucking place.

It was that thought—the realization I would never again be able to work in this room without remembering her scent, that had me unleashing my temper.

“Out,” I growled, uncertain I could say more.

Those winglike brows dipped in confusion. “Mr. Abydos? I thought our interview was?—”

“ Get out !” I roared, taking pleasure in the way those innocent eyes widened as she stumbled back. “Get the fuck away from me!”

Ooooh shit, we’re in trouble! We know Abydos hates humans (why?).

We know Riven needs money and stability to start paying off her medical debt.

But how in the world are these two going to be able to see eye-to-eye, especially when the contract stipulates that she’ll have to live with him?