Page 18 of Ruthless Lord

Charlie

“ I f you’re not careful, I’m going to start relying on you.”

I lean back against the kitchen counter and take a long sip of tea. Emily smiles shyly, pulling more cups from a cardboard box. “I haven’t really done much.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d still be at home staring at my room if it weren’t for you.”

“I was just the spark you needed to get moving.” Emily shrugs a little, cheeks pink as she finds room in one of the cabinets. “He doesn’t have much around here, does he?”

I stare around the beautiful house. At a glance, it looks like he takes great pride in it. The decorations are expensive and tasteful. His furniture is all top quality, not something he had to put together himself. Even his cups and glasses are from a designer boutique.

But there’s dust on the end tables. The TV isn’t even plugged into the wall. The refrigerator is essentially empty, except for some creamer and a bottle of vodka in the freezer.

“Gorgeous but empty.” I raise my eyebrows and add softly to myself, “A lot like my husband himself.”

Emily pretends not to have heard me and keeps herself busy.

I drink my tea slowly, taking a short break.

I offered to pour her some, but she refused on the grounds that she’s working.

Which is technically true, and even though I tried to explain that I’m not my grandfather and she can act like a normal human around me, she still wanted to keep at it.

“Sooner started, sooner finished,” she chirps, fluttering around like a busy bird.

“Another saying from your mother?”

“She’s full of wisdom, that old lady.”

I finish my drink and put the mug in the dishwasher. My fingers brush over the granite countertop. Gorgeous but empty . Is that really Stefano? From what I’ve seen of him so far, all he cares about is fighting, fucking, and doing business. That’s not such a surprise, given the whole mafia thing.

But there’s a glimmer of something underneath that brutal exterior.

“Can I ask you something?” Emily says, breaking down the now-empty box.

She stacks it in the pile with the others.

If she weren’t around, I’d be tossing the empties, still completely formed, straight into the backyard.

Sometimes I’m very aware of my privilege.

Maybe Stefano’s right to call me rich girl .

“Sure, go ahead.”

She clears her throat, absently fiddling with the box. “Well, I know this whole marriage thing is very new to you, and you don’t know your husband very well, and that must be really difficult, trying to make this place feel like your home.” She refuses to look at me.

“You’re stalling. Just come out and say it. I won’t get angry.”

She finally looks up. “Are you sure you’re safe?”

I let those words sink in for a moment as I consider how to answer. From her perspective, this probably seems like insanity. Why would anyone in their right mind agree to marry a stranger? Especially someone with so much to lose like me?

“Stefano and I have a deal.” I run my fingers along the countertop. They come back slightly dusty. Does this guy ever use the kitchen? “I know that doesn’t sound like much, but last night we slept in the same bed, and?—”

Her eyes go wide, and she starts waving her hands. “Oh, no, that’s okay, you don’t need to tell me any intimate details.”

I burst out laughing. “Emily! Do you seriously think I’m about to tell you about my sex life?”

“I just mean, you’re talking about sleeping in the same bed as… him .” Her voice lowers to a whisper on that last word. Her cheeks are scarlet now.

I barely control myself. “You think my husband is attractive, don’t you?”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! That’s so inappropriate, isn’t it? I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just saying—” She suddenly shuts her mouth and covers it with her hands.

I crack up. It’s too funny, watching her squirm.

But I decide to put her out of her misery after wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Seriously, it’s fine. I was trying to say, we have a deal where Stefano promised he won’t touch me.

And last night he didn’t even try to cross that line.

There won’t be anything intimate to tell you, not unless I want there to be, and I’m not really sure he and I will have that kind of relationship. ”

I neglect to mention the first night I met Stefano and the casual spanking on our wedding night. I think Emily’s poor head might explode if she knew.

“That’s good,” she says with a long sigh. “I mean, have whatever relationship with him you want. Obviously, he’s your husband, and he’s gorgeous .” She’s nervously tugging at her hair. “But I’m just saying, I know he made you this deal or whatever, but I want to make sure you’re really safe .”

“Thank you,” I say, genuinely touched and feeling a little guilty for teasing her. “But for whatever reason, I think he’s an honest man. That’s why he’s so terrifying, right? He is what he is and he doesn’t try to hide it. I believe it when he says he’ll never touch me unless I ask him to.”

“If you ever feel unsafe, or if you ever need help, you can call me. You know, not as a personal assistant or whatever, but as a friend.” She looks up, grimacing a little, and quickly adds, “If you want, obviously, I don’t mean to overstep anything.”

I walk over to her and pull her into a tight hug. She seems surprised but quickly hugs me back. “I’d really like that,” I say, squeezing. “The friend part.”

“Me too.” She laughs lightly. “Are we official now?”

“I’ll change my Facebook profile.”

“Perfect. We’re having dinner with my parents tomorrow. They can’t wait to meet you.”

The tension fades away as we finish the last of the downstairs unpacking.

Emily talks more about her family back in Pittsburgh, about her dad working for a fracking company and her brothers both still living at home even though they’re way too old now, and I’m amazed at how quickly I’m getting comfortable with her.

Most people treat me like I’m diseased. The second they learn my last name, it’s like I’m not a person anymore. I become an avatar for what the Westbrooks are. I’m treated like a brand.

But Emily’s got a strange kind of forthcoming confidence. She talks and talks without really caring how it comes off. It’s just pure honesty. Whatever pops into her head, she blurts it out and doesn’t seem to care what I think about it. Which is insanely refreshing.

I can’t remember the last time I made a new friend.

She’s also my employee. I’m aware of how that complicates our relationship. But for now, I just want to enjoy having someone in my life who only cares about my well-being and not what sort of social connections I can give to them.

“I’m pretty sure there’s not enough closet space in here,” she says, frowning at the piles of dresses.

“You were optimistic when we were packing.”

“I’m a glass three-quarters full kind of gal.”

“Isn’t it half full?”

“Not if you believe hard enough.” She chews on a nail. “Well, nothing for it. We’ll have to get rid of your husband’s stuff.”

“I’m pretty sure he won’t like that.”

“Either that or you can take over a spare room.”

I snap a finger and point at her. “That’s the solution.”

“Or you could move him there.” Her eyebrows raise. “Since you’ll need to keep all your stuff together, right?”

“You’re devious.”

“Only offering pragmatic solutions to this space problem.”

I’m seriously considering pulling all of Stefano’s suits out and dumping them on the spare bed when the door opens and closes. There are footsteps downstairs, and Emily quickly busies herself folding some of my tops and putting them into drawers as I stand at the top of the stairs.

“Darling, is that you?”

Stefano appears, frowning up at me. “Not sure I like the nickname.”

“Sorry, darling dearest. Just wanted to let you know that we’re unpacking up here.”

“Who’s we ?”

“My personal assistant and I.”

Stefano’s frown deepens. I swear, that man’s got a frown for all occasions. I could make a new language based on the tilt of his lips and the furrow in his brow. “You have a stranger in my room?”

“Relax, Emily’s fine.” I turn away, dismissing him with a flick of the wrist. “And it’s my room too, remember?”

He follows after me. Emily’s rummaging around in the dresser, trying to make space for my tank tops.

Stefano appears in the door behind me, looking extremely unhappy.

But then, that’s his default expression.

I think the only time I’ve ever seen him smile was when he was spanking me raw and filling me with his dick.

Perverted bastard.

“I think we need to talk, wife .” His eyes drift to Emily. “About the rules in our house.”

“Maybe after I’m done unpacking. How’s that sound?”

“I think now’s better.”

I turn and face him, starting to get annoyed. “Are you seriously making a big deal about Emily being in our bedroom?”

Poor Emily is working very hard at acting like she can’t hear us arguing about her, which is very sweet.

Though I wouldn’t blame her if she stormed out from sheer embarrassment.

But I guess that’s what happens when you work for my grandfather for so long.

She’s probably good at pretending she’s invisible.

“We should discuss this in private.” His nose wrinkles, and I swear he manages to look even more annoyed if that’s possible. “Right now .”

“How about we don’t? This isn’t only your house anymore. I live here, and if I want to have my personal assistant help unpack all my clothes, then?—”

“Oh, shit,” Emily says suddenly. The surprise and fear in her voice make me whip around.

She’s standing beside the dresser. My tanks are half shoved in beside what looks like Stefano’s black socks.

And she’s holding a very big gun in her hands, the grip pinched between her fingers like it’s covered in slime.

“Oh, shit,” I echo, equally shocked.