Perfectly Maid - de For A Billionaire

Chapter Three.

It had been three days since Anika got to the sprawling mansion that looked more like a castle than a home and she was still yet to meet up with the man who signed off her aunt’s paychecks. She assumed that he worked insane hours because even though she woke up early and went to her room by exactly 7pm to call in and check other staff, she never crossed paths with him. The only way she knew that he lived in the same house was the directive that she was to have breakfast ready for him before 7am when he came down for breakfast. She was always off doing something else when he went to have his mealand before she came back in, the plates were cleared off whatever that she prepared and the cup had only dredges of coffee in it.

On that particular day, she was tired of the quietness that seemed to ravage the house. It was like all the outside noise stopped once you crossed the threshold of the house and she was over it.

All the silence did was making her worry about her café. She stopped herself from checking in on her chef who she had made the manager in her absence for the umpteenth time that morning as she waited for the pan to heat up. Instead, she exited the call app and opened up the music app. If she wanted to keep her mind busy, then she needed to give it something to work with. Settling on a playlist that always had her feeling on top of the world as her worries fell away while she listened to the songs that were on there, she tapped play.

She rushed into her room to get her speaker. She was having a good time bopping her head to the beat of the song that careened through the air. She tamped the volume up as her favorite verse in Taylor Swift’s latest song came on. She used the ladle that she was using to stir the soup, preparing as a microphone while she shook her hips.

According to the meal plan that she was handed by a man that introduced himself as her boss’ secretary, he preferred to have soups on Wednesday mornings. She assumed it was because he enjoyed something light in the morning after the heavy dinner that he had on Tuesdays.

Stefan on the other hand was on the phone with his manager who he had sent before him to check on a few areas of interest as it pertained to the investment that he was chasing. He was not going to be going to work that morning because he was going to play the darned sport of golf so he needed him to be on top of things in his absence.

He had learnt quickly that if he wanted to move in the business world, he needed to play by the rules. It had taken him almost losing a million dollar deal to find out that the golf course was where deals were made and not at stuffy meetings. That explained why he took off a day at least once every two weeks to go to the golf course. It helped that he wasn’t completely hopeless at the sport.

The space between his eyebrows creased when the sound of music kept filtering into his ears and distracting him. All his staff that wanted to keep their jobs was aware of his many rules of which one was that they were not to use their working hours as a time to let loose and he was irritated that one of them was obviously going against that. What kind of human played music that loud before 7am? One that was ready to kiss their job goodbye, of course.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and stalked towards where the music seemed to be coming from which happened to be the kitchen. When he got there, he was greeted with the sight of what seemed to be a young woman with her hips easily moving from side to side as she stirred something in the pan.

He assessed her from where he stood, just at the door and she was none the wiser. Her steps didn’t falter neither did her singing into what he had to tilt his neck to the side to see that it was a ladle cease as he watched her. She was obviously not very conscious of her surroundings. Stefan’s eyes were drawn to the colored hair that was piled atop her head in some kind of bun. He couldn’t figure out the exact color because depending on whether she swayed closer to the light or away from it, it looked red or pink.

Angrily, he shoved all images of her from his mind and stalked to the speaker that was resting on the counter. In his search, he had found that her phone was the culprit behind the music that he was hearing. He tapped the screen to wake it up and turned off the music. He didn’t think about the fact that he was invading her privacy because it was his house and his rules were the order of the day.

As soon as the music went off, Anika stopped dancing. With the ladle still in hand, she turned to see what could have stopped Taylor Swift from crooning at her and she was surprised. The ladle slipped through her fingers as she was met with a sight that she was not prepared for. She bent down to pick it up and as she did, she tried to gather her thoughts so she didn’t come off as crazier than she already seemed.

“Good morning sir”

She assumed that he was her boss, given the authoritative way he carried himself and the arrogant gleam in his eyes. Against her better judgment, her eyes trailed down his body and she was not surprised to see that he was clothed in what could only cost at least a few thousand bucks with a Rolex on his wrist. The only reason she knew that the watch was such an expensive one was because her ex had raved on and on about it. And contrary to what she expected, he scoffed and didn’t pay her greeting any attention, instead leaving the kitchen.

She frowned at that as she wondered what she could have done to deserve such coldness from him. Was he one of those depressing people who hated seeing others happy?

Not too long after, she heard the bell go off. Knowing that she was being summoned from the dining room, she turned off the cooker, wiped her hands on her apron, spooned some soup into a ceramic plate, placed it on a tray and walked out with it.

“What is this rubbish?" He spat out the soup that he spooned into his mouth out onto a napkin.

There was nothing wrong with the soup. She knew because that was something she served in her café. Soup Saturdays were a coveted day in her café because she could never make enough. Before she could ask him what was wrong or even apologize, he started ribbing into her, scolding her like she was a child who couldn’t differentiate between right and wrong. With every word he spoke, Anika wished that she had never taken her aunt’s position. What was so wrong with listening to music in his house that he was even insulting her economic position? She was reminded of the reason she disliked being around rich people once again.