CHAPTER EIGHT: CHLOE

“It’s been a long time since I had roommates,” Theodore mused, and his blue eyes twinkled with laughter. “All right, let’s discuss how we can make our cohabitation comfortable for us both.”

Wow.

I didn’t think he’d actually go for it, much less look as though he was enjoying the prospect of discussing it.

I thought he’d say something like, “Just work it out yourself, Miss St. James!”

Maybe he really had hit his head this morning.

I handed him a sheet of paper. “This is a draft of the basic rules. I will make the necessary amendments on my laptop as we go.”

“Very well.” He scanned the page. “This is very thorough. You’re diligent as always, Miss St. James.”

“Thank you, sir.” I cleared my throat. “First of all, the most important one is that our bedrooms should be off-limits to the other person in case of an emergency.”

“What constitutes an emergency?” He met my gaze, curiosity swirling in his silver-blue eyes. “Injury? Illness? Forgetting to take a towel into the bathroom?”

“I believe the word ‘emergency’ is relatively self-explanatory, and situations such as forgotten towels can be dealt with on a day-to-day basis.” I held his gaze. “But to clarify further, permission must be granted to enter the other person’s room. Is that better?”

“Yes. Make that amendment. You never know what circumstances will arise that will result in us needing to be in each other’s bedroom.”

His voice was smooth, and although there was little inference to anything untoward, I couldn’t be happier that my dark hair fell across my face like a curtain as I typed on the laptop.

That man did not need to see the blush that was currently heating my cheeks.

More to the point, why on Earth was I blushing at the prospect of this bastard being in my bedroom?

I cleared my throat again. “Next, we should discuss the separation of chores.”

“There will be a housekeeper coming from Buckley House twice a week to do deep cleaning,” Theodore explained. “If necessary, we can have her visit more frequently.”

“That’s helpful, but daily chores are still important.”

“Then we should go back to basics.” He waved his hand. “Whoever cooks doesn’t have to do the dishes. We should take it in turns.”

I blinked at him. “To do what?”

“Cook, of course. It doesn’t make sense for us to cook for ourselves every night, does it? We don’t have to eat together, but we should prepare meals we both like. Besides, isn’t it easier to cook for two people than for one?”

“You’re not wrong, but… uh, please don’t take this the wrong way, but can you cook, sir?”

He paused. “I can cook.”

“Having the housekeeper cook and store meals in the fridge doesn’t count.”

“In that case, no. I can’t cook.”

I sighed and looked down. “Then your plan is instantly flawed. If you’re counting heating the housekeeper’s dishes up every night as cooking, then I’m not doing the dishes on those nights. It’s not a fair exchange.”

“What if we eat out those nights?”

“This is a business trip, sir, not a honeymoon.”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Can you cook, Miss St. James?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. I know where this is going. “I cook for myself most days.”

“Then how about you do the cooking and I do the dishes every night?”

“I don’t mind, but that doesn’t mean you can leave it for the housekeeper, sir.”

“In exchange, I will be responsible for buying our lunch every day,” he offered. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds like you’re avoiding the question of leaving the dishes for the housekeeper,” I mumbled, tapping it in.

“I won’t.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” I scanned the next line. “Otherwise, it pertains to basic chores. We should both be responsible for our bedrooms and bathrooms. Common courtesy should be applied to all other areas—don’t leave dishes or rubbish lying around, coats should be hung up and shoes put away, that sort of thing.”

“We’re both adults. I believe we can make that work. With regards to laundry, the housekeeper will handle mine, including dry cleaning. She’s also there to do yours, but if you prefer to do your own, then it can be done on days she isn’t there.”

“Perfect. I’d prefer to do my own.” I didn’t like strangers touching my panties.

He flicked at the piece of paper. “What’s this about the TV?”

“Ah. Downtime. If you have anything you watch, you—”

“I don’t.”

I paused. “You don’t?”

“I don’t watch TV.” He looked over at me. “Why are you looking at me as though I’ve kicked your cat?”

“You don’t watch it at all? Not even Netflix or movies?”

“It’s little more than background noise to me. I’d rather read or work.” He leant back on the sofa, raising his eyebrows. “The same goes for days off. I don’t really take them, and if I do, I visit my family. You’re under no obligation to account for my time during that period.”

Wow.

He really did lead a one-dimensional life.

“I suppose that makes things easier,” I said slowly. “And the last item on the list…”

“I don’t take women back to my own home, never mind one I would be sharing with you. In fact, I’m quite insulted that you’d think I’d do something like that.” He eyed me.

“No, no! I—” I pressed my fist to my mouth, blushing. “I thought it would be best to be on the same page regarding such a personal manner.”

“We should notify the other person if we won’t be returning home,” he summarised. “Are you that interested in my sex life, Miss St. James?”

My cheeks burned. “No! I just thought that… maybe… it would be courteous to let the other person know if such a situation arose. So they don’t worry. Call and interrupt. That kind of thing.”

He tilted his head to the side, keeping his grey-blue eyes fixed firmly on me. “I see. Did you add this for your benefit, then? Do you plan on staying out all night?”

“No!” The word exploded out of me, and I grabbed the file from the table and used it to cover my hot face.

This bastard.

This. Bastard!

He chuckled, and I peeked out over the top of the file. His lips were turned up at one side into a bemused smirk—the kind that had the imaginary Chloe in my head hitting him with a box file.

“I believe that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you this flustered, Chloe.”

“This is a very personal discussion!” I squeaked out, using the file to fan my face. “It’s certainly not something I’m comfortable talking about with you.”

“Then why bring it up?”

“You know very well why!”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.”

It was official.

I was going to murder him before my resignation was ever accepted. Would I last a week in the same house as this man?

I took a big drink of my water and gulped it down, then drew in a deep breath to regain my composure. “I have no desire to field calls from women who think you’re interested in them, sir,” I said honestly. “I think that debacle with Emily Grandstein has cured me of that forever.”

“Is that the only reason?” He raised his eyebrows.

“What other reason would there be?” I coughed and reached for my water again. “Well, if we’re both in agreement regarding it…”

“As you said before, this is a business trip. I have no intention of wasting my time with such frivolities.”

That might be the first and last time I would ever hear a man in his early thirties refer to sex as a ‘frivolity.’

“It looks like that’s everything on the list.”

I glanced at my watch. “Yes, it is. You have a meeting in fifteen minutes with Ms Sayuri Hitoshi, the CEO of Hitoshi Industries, and her translator Mr Haruto Tachibana.”

“Do you have the—”

“Right here.” I whipped out the brief notes on the meeting and handed them across the table to him. “You read those, and I’ll clean up here.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Mr Black? Miss St. James?” Daniel’s voice echoed through it. “Ms Hitoshi and Mr Tachibana are downstairs in reception.”

“Never mind. You read those, Daniel can clean up, and I’ll go and greet them,” I said, shutting my laptop and grabbing my things before running to the door. “Daniel, can you get rid of that mess, please? Oh, sir, your tie is wonky,” I called over my shoulder on my way out. “Melody, please be ready to bring some tea. Do I have anything on my face?”

She blinked at me. “No, you look perfect.”

“Excellent.” I put my things on my desk, smoothed out my skirt, and headed for the doors. “Make sure there’s no sign of your lunch by the time we get back.”

“You’re like a whirlwind,” Melody said, gathering her and Daniel’s rubbish from lunch.

“Whirlwinds get things done,” I called, walking out. “You have five minutes.”

***

I collapsed over the arm of my sofa with a giant flump and stared up at the ceiling.

It was done.

The contract Alastair had given me was all good, and it would be ready to sign first thing in the morning when I arrived at the office. I knew it would be—I trusted that they wouldn’t screw me over, but I’d still wanted to get it checked.

Which meant this was really happening.

I would be roommates with my boss for six weeks. More than that, I would be cooking dinner for my boss for six weeks.

I’d lost my mind. I’d been nothing but a big ol’ ball of regret ever since we’d had lunch. I could scarcely believe we’d had that conversation about one-night stands.

He’d actually teased me.

And not in a mean way.

Theodore Black had playfully teased me, and I’d blushed the whole time.

In my defense, I thought anyone would blush if a man as handsome as him started teasing them about sex and one-night stands. I’d only put that in the list because the twins had brought it up the other night. It really wasn’t something I was considering, and if my boss did partake in such ‘frivolities,’ as he put it, then it was none of my business.

I just didn’t want to hear other people having sex.

I’d had enough of that during my university years.

I also didn’t want to hear my boss having sex. Not because he was my boss, but because contrary to the opinion of my best friends, I was a sexually active young woman, and if I heard Theodore Black having sex, I was absolutely going to imagine him having sex.

For the rest of my life, probably.

My phone buzzed in my bag, and I kicked off my heels while reaching aimlessly around on the ground for my bag. My fingertips made contact with the handle, and I briefly sat up to find my phone out of the abyss before lying back down again and checking my messages.

I froze.

What did The Bastard want now?

THE BASTARD: How did your appointment go with the lawyer?

Hmm.

It was a first for him to text me out of the blue without demanding something. Especially when it wasn’t about work—although this kind of was. I wanted to joke that it went badly, but I wasn’t sure we were quite there.

ME: It went well. There are no problems signing it tomorrow.

THE BASTARD: Good to know. In that case, I met with my father before I left the office and we’re leaving next Saturday.

I pursed my lips. Saturday? A cross-country trip? He was welcome to, but I certainly wasn’t going to embark on a five-and-a-half-hour drive on a weekend.

ME: What kind of a sadist makes a 5.5hr drive by choice on a weekend?

Whoops. I’d meant to suggest it was a bad idea, but my fingers moved faster than my brain.

THE BASTARD: That’s a good point. Should we leave on Friday instead?

ME: That depends on your schedule, sir.

THE BASTARD: You usually know it.

ME: Please forgive me for not having the next ten days perfectly memorised.

THE BASTARD: Since you asked nicely, you’re forgiven.

THE BASTARD: Are you checking?

ME: No. I’m lying on my sofa contemplating the meaning of life, if you must know.

THE BASTARD: I thought you would be looking.

THE BASTARD: What is there to contemplate so intently?

ME: I’m out of office. This is part of your training for when we’re roommates. If you want to know something past seven p.m., you’ll have to look it up yourself.

THE BASTARD: Are you contemplating how to train me to do my own job?

ME: I’m also contemplating how sorry to feel for your next secretary, sir.

THE BASTARD: It breaks my heart every time you remind me that you’re leaving me.

ME: If you’d just accepted my resignation the first time I’d offered it, you’d already be on the road to recovery, sir.

THE BASTARD: You make me sound like a horrible, unreasonable boss.

ME: Not accepting someone’s resignation for an entire month is pretty unreasonable. Sir.

THE BASTARD: Stop tacking ‘sir’ on the end of your sentences as if it makes them sound nicer.

I snorted and covered my mouth with my hand, almost dropping my phone in the process.

So, he did know I did that.

ME: I don’t know what you mean. I’m only being polite.

THE BASTARD: Mm. If you say so.

THE BASTARD: I checked my schedule and I have a nine o’clock meeting, but it’s one I’d rather have as an email. Cancel it tomorrow and we’ll leave Friday morning and beat the weekend traffic.

ME: I’ll do it first thing. Let me know if there’s anything else you need me to arrange. Sooner rather than later please, sir.

THE BASTARD: Are you saying I’m too last-minute?

ME: It’s a polite reminder that I, too, am coming on this long trip and need to make sure I pack enough of my own belongings.

THE BASTARD: We’re going to the Lake District, not the Atacama Desert. If you forget anything, we can just buy it.

ME: I hope that by ‘we’ you mean that you’ll buy it, especially if I forget it because I’m busy running around after you.

ME: Sir.

THE BASTARD: Stop with the sir.

THE BASTARD: Are you going to call me sir when we’re living together?

ME: It would be highly inappropriate for me to refer to you by name. I could call you something else if you prefer. How about Lord Ruxleigh?

THE BASTARD: I should have accepted that resignation after all.

ME: It’s not too late. Would you like me to email you a copy right now?

THE BASTARD: I was joking. It was a joke.

THE BASTARD: Please do not email me a copy of your resignation, Chloe.

THE BASTARD: You can call me anything but Lord Ruxleigh.

THE BASTARD: You can even call me what you have me saved under on your phone.

I froze.

Did he know what I had his number under?

Surely not. There was no way he could have found out he was literally ‘The Bastard’ in my contacts list.

ME: Mr Black? That’s not very innovative. I call you that all the time. That’s even more formal than sir.

THE BASTARD: Hmm. You’re right.

Phew.

ME: Well, it’s been lovely chatting with you, sir, but if we’re confirmed to leave on Friday and there’s nothing else, I’m going to cook my dinner.

THE BASTARD: All right. That’s all. I’ll see you in the morning.

I put my phone down on my stomach and threw my arm across my eyes. That was the longest conversation we’d ever had outside of work that wasn’t strictly completely about work, and it might have been the first time we’d ever joked with one another.

It was… weird.

Between him thanking me, buying us all lunch, teasing me, and then joking with me tonight, I felt as though I’d woken up in a parallel universe where Theodore Black was not actually a complete and utter bastard.

It was equal parts scary and welcome.

Scary because it wasn’t the man I knew, and welcome because…

Well, I supposed this version of him was the kind of person I wouldn’t mind working for.

No.

I wasn’t going to go down that line of thought. The whole reason I was going on this business trip was to win my month-long battle of resignation. If I had second thoughts now, it rendered this upcoming trip completely pointless.

And Chloe St. James did not do pointless things.

I didn’t have the time for pointless things.

Unless it was lying on my sofa, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how the boss I hated had made me blush.

Ugh.