Page 5 of The Billionaire’s Secret Twins (Love for the Holidays #11)

Angela

“I s everything okay, hon?” Mrs. Goodyear smiles at me while chopping vegetables. “You’ve got something on your mind today. Did everything go well with the party last night?”

I snap out of my stupor, shooting a wobbly smile at the matronly chef.

Mrs. Goodyear has grey hair, a rotund figure, and a white apron that covers her from shoulder to knee.

Her food is to die for, and rightfully belongs in a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Still, this isn’t the time to discuss her talents because I need to retrieve my shoe asap.

“Oh yes, everything went off without a hitch,” I say with a smile. “Nothing to report. I think everyone had a great time, and the caterers called me this morning to thank me for the business.”

Mrs. Goodyear chortles as her knife moves in an efficient blur.

“Oh yes, Mr. Masters is very generous,” she says. “He likely put a fifty percent tip on the tab, and everyone walked away happy, from the lowliest busboy to the man behind the bar. It’s lucrative to work for Mr. Masters,” she confides with a wink. “In fact, that man is generous to a fault.”

I stare, a bit surprised.

“Really? That’s so interesting.”

Mrs. Goodyear nods, her knife still flying in a blur.

“Yes, Mr. Masters is definitely good people. He hired me right when he bought this apartment, so it’s been fifteen years now!

I cook whenever he’s in town, but when he’s not, I still receive full pay and benefits.

Plus, he always gives the staff a nice holiday bonus.

Again, it’s good to be in Mr. Masters’ employ,” she winks. “An honest man, he is.”

I nod again because this is interesting information.

Dominic Masters is a billionaire, so he has plenty of money at his disposal.

Yet so many people with money are actually penny pinchers who would never go out of their way to help someone with less.

But it seems that my employer is of a different stripe, and the commendation of a servant who’s been in his employ for fifteen years is valuable indeed.

Respect for the alpha male grows in my chest.

“I see,” I murmur. “Thank you. Will Mr. Masters be coming home for dinner today?”

Mrs. Goodyear glances at the clock.

“Yes, he said he’d be back at six or so which means I need to speed this up! My coq au vin takes a while, and I want it hot on the table the moment he walks in the door. The boss deserves the best,” she chuckles.

“Perfect,” I say with a nod. “I’m just going to check up on some other things before he gets back. If you’ll excuse me.”

But Mrs. Goodyear is already back at the stove, stirring something as the heavenly smell of spice fills the air.

I breathe deep, smiling, and then step out of the kitchen into the cool hallway.

Goodness, that was certainly illuminating!

Who would have thought that my new employer was so generous?

But now, I have a few hours before Mr. Masters gets home, and I should use the opportunity to search for my shoe.

After all, I didn’t mean to lose it last night.

Heck, I’m surprised that the shoe slipped off my foot because it’s a flat ballerina that I’ve had for years, and it’s never given me any trouble.

But last night was an aberration because Mr. Masters took me by surprise and kissed me.

One moment, we were in the middle of a tiff, and the next, I was pressed up against that hard male form as he kissed the daylights out of me.

I smile to myself while padding along the hallway.

Dominic Masters can kiss, that’s for sure, because I found myself melting against his broad form like a teenager who’s never been in a man’s arms before.

His cologne made me feel faint and heady at once, and when I opened my mouth, he swept his tongue inside, growling with approval.

Hold your horses , the voice in my head scolds. It was just a kiss. It’s not like the billionaire proposed or something. Besides, Mr. Masters probably just had too much to drink and got caught up in the excitement of the party. It’s nothing to lose your head over.

Of course the voice is right and yet I can’t help but smile to myself again.

I almost leaped out of bed at six a.m. this morning, and took care to wear something a tiny bit nicer than my usual boxy grey uniform, although I don’t think I’ll be seeing Dominic today.

Still, I feel pretty and wanted, and decided to take extra pains.

As a result, I’m dressed a black skirt that comes down to the knee, paired with a filmy white blouse which is still totally appropriate.

My golden hair is in its usual bun, and black hose covers my thighs ending in a pair of grey trainers.

A rueful smile crosses my mouth because the sneakers are the only weird part of my outfit today.

Unfortunately, I only brought two pairs: the black ballerinas and these grey shoes, and now that I’ve lost one of my ballerinas, the sneakers are my only option.

But still, I need to find the missing slipper because it’s important to be frugal at this juncture of my life.

My deceased husband’s life insurance paid out, but the funds are dwindling and I need to save every penny from this job.

As a result, I look around furtively before letting myself into the formal dining room where Mr. Masters kissed me last night.

It’s silent and still, with a heavy oak table paired with matching chairs.

The wallpaper is a deep crimson striped with gold, and a beautiful bouquet stands on the otherwise unadorned table.

But where could my shoe be? I survey the carpeted floor, but it’s nowhere to be found. Then, I get down on my knees and peer beneath the table. Could it have gotten kicked down here somehow? But even in the gloom, I can see that there’s nothing but table legs and chair legs. Hmm. Where could it be?

Suddenly, I realize what must have happened. Dominic must have picked up my lost shoe and taken it to his room. Oh god, no! How embarrassing! How would I even go about getting it back? Ugh, I can’t even picture the conversation we’d have in my head.

Pulse racing, I let myself out of the dining room and tiptoe down the long hallway to where the penthouse’s private quarters are located.

I can’t believe this is happening, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Besides, Mr. Masters won’t be back until six, right?

I have plenty of time to do some stealthy reconnaissance.

The door to the master suite is closed and the hallway empty.

Perfect . Looking around surreptitiously, I push the door open before letting myself in, as silent as a mouse.

Oh wow, this suite is the epitome of luxury because I’m standing in a small drawing room that leads into a massive bedroom.

Through the doorway, I can see a king-size bed done up with silvery grey linens, and another door leading to what must be the en suite.

But the focal point of the suite is the eastern-facing wall because it’s completely occupied by floor to ceiling windows.

I can see why because there’s an astonishing view of Central Park just on the other side.

Unable to help myself, I walk through the bedroom and let myself out through the sliding glass door and onto the terrace.

It’s gorgeous, with colorful blooms, potted plants, and elegant, yet hardy, outdoor furniture.

But the pièce de resistance is Central Park itself.

We’re high up above the tree tops, and the view is absolutely breathtaking as I take in the Great Lawn, Sheep’s Meadow, Belvedere Castle, as well as numerous runners, walkers, bicyclists, and horse-drawn carriages.

I can almost hear the laughter and conversation of park-goers, and smile to myself.

What must it be like to be carefree and relaxed on a gorgeous day like this, while strolling through the best and biggest park in New York City?

What would it be like to let my worries float away, without the shadow of my past hanging over me?

I’d feel like a different person, certainly, but the fact is that nothing can change the fact that I’m me: Angela White.

I’m a totally normal woman, except for the fact that my deceased husband abused me while he was alive.

No one could tell. In fact, Ned was like Prince Charming when I first met him because he was tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed and obviously well-off.

I was filling in at reception at the Clearview Hotel on Ports Road, when he strode in with a charming smile, and his hair brushed back from his high forehead.

“Ned White,” he rumbled. “Checking in.”

I was flustered, and my cheeks blushed pink.

“Certainly, sir,” I murmured as my hands typed quickly on the keyboard. “Welcome to Clearview. It’s a pleasure to have you staying with us.”

Of course, it was then that I forgot everything to know about checking in a guest. I fumbled, I hemmed and hawed, and generally made a fool of myself until my friend Rose stepped in.

But Mr. White didn’t seem put off by my obvious incompetence.

He merely winked as I handed him his room key, and murmured “thanks” before striding away.

“Wow, what a hunk!” Rose sighed, staring at his departing back. “It’s like Prince Charming just set foot in our hotel!”

“I know,” I murmured. “And he’s in the Royal Suite as well, so he’s obviously living the good life.”

Of course, I thought that’d be the end of it. I’d go back to my housekeeping duties, and Mr. White would depart when his trip was over. But to my surprise, we bumped into each other later the next day when I filled in as a waitress at the Garden Café on the first floor.

“Didn’t I see you yesterday?” he asked as I stood by his table, dressed in a pink uniform with a jaunty cap on my head and a white ruffled apron wrapped around my waist. “You were working reception, right?”

I blushed like a fire engine.