2. Whitley Whitt

Chapter 2

Whitley Whitt

O’Doyle Rules.

My cupcake-covered flip flops thwap softly across the black-and-white checkered kitchen floors I mopped only a couple hours ago, as I carry a tray full of goodies. Gripping the tray firmly in my hands, I make sure nothing slides off.

My spoils being muffins, hot cocoa with marshmallows, and cherry tarts to complete the ensemble, my mouth waters at the sight. This is about to be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth, just as soon as I can get back to my room.

The smell of cocoa brings back peaceful memories of baking with Grandma, and how Papa would grin and sneak more marshmallows into my drink when she wasn’t looking. My grandparents ran a bakery until the day they died, and it was probably one of the best places to grow up as a kid. No matter how long it’s been, I miss them terribly.

Just a couple more months and I’ll have enough funds to buy back the bakery—more importantly, I’ll have a home again.

“Shit,” I groan inwardly, when I realize my bedroom is now halfway across the castle.

Two days ago, disaster struck, but thankfully there were other rooms available with how waterlogged mine is. One leaky pipe and my bed was completely ruined. My only complaint is that it took ages to track down Allan, the castle manager, to let him know, and another hour for him to figure out where to put me.

I’m the only staff that stays on at the castle, as everyone else lives in the village, but with the way Allan acts, the castle only has a handful of rooms and not half a hundred. Men make no sense.

I glance around the old kitchen, making sure I’ve not left anything out that will spoil overnight. It took ages to clean—next time I will rethink agreeing to scrub it by myself. I’m glad Maria at least got another night out with her boyfriend, and I don’t really mind helping her when it comes to my own workspace. Castle Tepesh is massive and equally ridiculous with the number of old things lying around the place. It’s like a museum.

And this kitchen... I really do love the exposed brick coupled with stainless steel, and how the green-and-blue hues of the mosaic backsplash glitter in the lights, but they are actual glass and a pain in the ass to clean.

A grandfather clock chimes deep and loud twice from elsewhere in the castle, its echo reminding me of how late it is. I flick off the lights and wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness before moving toward the dining room door.

“Snacks and a movie will be just the thing,” I say under my breath.

The movie will be on my phone, but whatever. Clean bed beats no television. Insomnia can suck it, but I guess I should feel lucky I haven’t had issues sleeping up until now. The last month should have been an adjustment with a new time zone and creepy castle, but almost from the start I have slept like a baby.

When I first arrived, I was so spooked by the architecture that I contemplated begging the cabbie to take me back to the airport. Not that I have anywhere else to go at the moment. The place has grown on me since and isn’t as scary now that I know about the animatronics. I smile to myself at how I thought I saw something move in the moat on the walk up. The only issue I have is I haven’t been able to sleep the last two nights since being moved to the new wing.

Food will help. It’s hard to get in a good meal when I’m always busy making them.

I push open the wooden door to the dining room, and my attention immediately snags on the chandelier that gleams overhead. The crystals glitter from the soft orange glow of the lamplight, giving the room a cozy feel.

I wince and suck air through my teeth when I take a step wrong, putting pressure on the sole of my foot, and the tray jostles, clattering a bit. My feet throb, reminding me of my shitty shoe situation as I make my way toward the door leading to the grand staircase, once again cursing the choice to not pack my broken-in sneakers before I left home. My black work shoes have almost had it and I really need to buy new ones.

It will be fine; I just need some snacks and Mr. Darcy to send me off to dream land. Pride and Prejudice plus carbs are the perfect tonic to a shit day, which I am in dire need of because of Allan. The castle manager loves to speak to everyone as if they are a five-year-old with hearing problems. Needless to say, as soon as everyone discovered Mr. O’Doyle had left, a parade of people came through the kitchen with me apparently shoved into the leadership position to stand up to Allan. The weasel.

I thought I couldn’t dislike anyone more than Connor, but Allan could tempt a saint to murder.

“Come on,” I groan.

My face twists up at the fact that there are important items missing from my tray: the cutlery I need to ensure I don’t leave crumbs all over my bed. I sigh and whirl back around. It is like I am doomed to always forget the one thing I need. While cooking in the kitchen, I rarely misplace anything, but ask me to get an item from one place to the other and I’m hopeless.

I always forget something—at home, movie theatres, the grocery store. Ugh. I push at the wooden door and meet resistance. Oh no . The tray wobbles, and I fail to keep it balanced as someone shoves the door in the opposite direction, right into me.

I scream, plates shatter as they hit the floor, food explodes around the room as scalding hot cocoa pours across my chest, saturating the thin blue nightrobe I am wearing.

My screech echoes around the castle walls and I can just imagine my skin is going to look like Anakin Skywalker’s after his walk on the dark side.

“Owww! What the hell, dude?!” I stare down at the red streaks forming across my breasts and pull my shirt away from my skin.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” comes a distinct male voice from behind me.

Connor.

My body prickles with awareness from his nearness and my back straightens. My nostrils flare, filling with the scent of chocolate— my freaking cocoa .

“Me?! You shoved the door into me!”

I resist the urge to pout about the ruined food and instead direct my fury at him. It doesn’t help that I’ve secretly relived our kiss the night of the ball every day since then, and now here he is, ruining my night after a long day yet again.

“I’m sorry. I thought the stopper was stuck,” he says almost sweetly, and I have to do a double take before he scowls. “What the bloody hell are you doing skulking around at two in the morning?”

Ah. There’s the prick I know.

The sight of his bare feet gives me pause, and I trail my gaze up over gray sweatpants. Oh, nope not going there ... But the tanned, muscled chest without a shirt on and his bedhead hair do something strange to my stomach.

Clearly, a few days away from the castle have done him plenty of favors, not that I give a shit. The last I saw him I was hurling a cupcake at his head, hoping it would annihilate him.

“Is there a curfew rule for the staff that I don’t know about?”

“Perhaps there should be.” He glares, and the image of me tackling him to the ground while choking him until his tongue lolls from his mouth comes to mind, along with a possible mugshot with me in prison wearing my favorite shirt. Not worth it. Gosh, he is such an ass.

“Listen O’Doyle Rules, I know this must be hard for you, but if you could just practice an ounce”—I hold up two fingers and squish—“or just a smidge of kindness and not bark at me like a dog, that would be spectacular.”

Connor O’Doyle

“Excuse me? Did you just quote Billy Madison ?” I blink, because I have surely heard her incorrectly. A scowl pulls across my features at how my tone inadvertently drops to that of a Londoner brat. “I have not even begun to bark at you, lady.”

But I could, and the urge to woof in her face strikes me.

“You heard what I said,” she sneers, her face darkening by the second as outrage consumes her features.

The pulsing throb at my temple increases and I groan, uncaring of what she thinks. The wretched female. I knew when I made my way to the cellar entrance that her smell would filter through the kitchen like mad, but I wasn’t expecting to run into her . After my run through the forest, I only wanted to grab a quick bite to eat from the kitchen before calling it a night. Instead, I’m made to deal with this one.

“What are you doing walking around like this anyway?” her nose wrinkles, but her heartrate says something entirely different.

Her gaze lingers over my chest and pectorals, and a wave of want surges through me.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need you to elaborate on why you believe I should answer to you in any capacity,” I find myself saying, my tone dripping with condescension.

Its better if she hates me than look at me like that.

She crosses her arms over her chest and her gaze turns to lead.

“Both you and Mr. Tepesh left here without a word to anyone in the middle of the night. Allan is so pompous he hardly speaks to anyone and when he does, it isn’t nice,” she says, her face twisted into a snarl.

Nice? “I didn’t realize. I will be sure to add being nice , to Allan’s list of duties.”

Moonlight ripples across her face, shining on the dark brown of her hair that is swept up but falling in areas. She is more dressed down than I have ever seen her.

“That’s great, thanks. That will be so helpful,” she snaps, her eyes full of hate as she presses her lips into a flat line.

I’m taken aback by how red her face is and how mad she seems to be, but then her gaze drops to my chest, and she shifts her attention away. In the next instant my back straightens as awareness of what we are doing comes over me. Why should I care what the devil she is up to in the dining room at two in the morning? It’s my castle—in part anyway.

“Take yourself off to bed,” I tell her, before turning away to head toward the north wing to sleep.

“My god, you are such a jerk! Do you know when Vlad will be back? I know he’s with Aubrey.”

The vehemence in her tone has me bristling and I round on her. Satisfaction fills me at how she instinctively steps back.

Gods, this female puts me on edge like no other. Normally I would never speak to any woman this way, but Whitley Whitt can get bent. All I wanted was to get home, go for a run, then hopefully sleep away the trauma that has been my last week.

Except her scent rises. It makes my cock twitch and annoyance spreads again. How can I go from hating to wanting her in the next breath? Her scent being unnatural is the only explanation.

“I suggest you concern yourself more with what goes on in the kitchen, chef, rather than the entire castle, as your job title dictates. If Vlad wanted you to know of his whereabouts, he would tell you.”

She gasps and fury colors her expression.

“You are the most pompous jackass I have ever met. Since you left, there have been nothing but issues, and Allan is so condescending it’s hard to have a conversation with the man. Not that you seem to be much better.”

“Thanks for the . . . report.”

My eyes harden when I realize she’s affecting me still, the smell of her rising along with the scent of cocoa. Tension pulls at my shoulders. So much for holding my nose as I walked through the kitchen. I bend and deftly place her food onto the dropped tray before lifting it and pushing it toward her. She holds it, and thankfully doesn’t toss it in my face.

“I’ll handle everything in the morning. But for now, I think the American saying is to make like a tree and bloody well fuck off.”

Her jaw unhinging gives me just enough energy to take my own advice and leave the room.

Blasted female. I bristle at the fact that she seems to crawl under my skin so easily.

Normally, I would want to put a bullet in Vlad for being a fuckhead and causing me to leave the castle so soon in the first place, but none of that was his fault either.

I expected that operations would falter when I left, but assumed Allan would take the reins and keep everything running smoothly until my return. The chef’s concern echoes in my head, and I realize I will need to reach out to the rest of the employees. The satanic female could be speaking bullshit, but better safe than sorry.

My bare feet don’t make a sound against the dark-stained oak flooring I insisted be brought back to its former glory as I hurry across the expanse of the main level. I listen a moment and check for any footsteps before I bound up the steps of the north tower, eager to reach my bedroom and a hefty bottle of brandy.