Page 3 of Grumpy Mafia Boss and the Cleaner
“I seriously thought it was more than that.” She had a hand on her hip, and with the other she rubbed at her temple. “I can’t believe he would do this. Murphy adored you.”
Enzo snorted. “Not enough to not betray me.”
“Are you saying Murphy is dead?” Harper asked.
“Why? Was he your lover?” He knew he wasn’t.
She frowned. “What? No. Your stomach is rumbling, and even though I can cook to feed myself, I’m not exactly an award-winning chef!”
“Neither was Murphy. He was just damn good at what he did.”
“I don’t know what you like or dislike. Are you allergic to anything?”
“Go and cook me breakfast. I’m not a fussy eater.”
He loved the cute look of defiance she shot his way. That look on anyone else, he’d question, but on Harper, it was just cute. She’d proven time and again that he could trust her.
She spun away, and he watched her leave and couldn’t help admire the roundness of her ass. When her father, Bradley, offered her services, he’d not been interested. However, Bradley was the kind of pest you needed to swat down to get rid of. The moment he saw Harper’s picture he’d been intrigued, mainly to see if the daughter was anything like her father. Also, he wanted a reason to kill Bradley.
Harper hadn’t given him a damn thing. He wondered if Harper even knew her father offered her up on a plate. There was no mistaking the father’s intention.
“My daughter is a good girl. She will do exactly what you want, if you need her to cook and clean, or just stand there. You can beat her as well, and you can fuck her. Use her to your heart’s content.”
She’d been eighteen years old. Enzo was no fool and knew women could be monsters and evil at eighteen, at any age. He’d witnessed it with his own eyes. There was something in the photograph Bradley showed him. He needed to know if he was right.
Of course, he’d been right. Staring back at him had been a vulnerable and somewhat terrified woman. Harper needed to get away from her parents. It’s why he paid a fortune for her, certainly over the limit of any maid that was paid for a live-in service. She should have a lot saved up, seeing as he knew she didn’t spend a single cent.
The pain in his arm was starting to bother him. Kent offered him some pain relief, but he refused to take it. Too many good men had gotten lost by attempting to find their relief from pain. He always just handled it. Besides, it would fade. Most pain faded. The true pain that stayed never went away.
He made his way into the kitchen to keep an eye on Harper. She’d proven herself, but he’d yet to see her cook. She already had a couple of frying pans on top of the stove, and bacon was in one. He loved his bacon extra crispy. In the other pan, she melted some butter. He hated runny eggs. She whisked the eggs in another bowl, in between swirling butter in the pan.
He took a seat at the kitchen counter and saw her hesitate for a second before pouring the beaten eggs into the pan. She immediately grabbed a spatula, started to move the eggs around, and he watched them start to set and wiggle as she moved them. With her other hand, she grabbed a pair of tongs and flipped the bacon over so it would crisp on the other side. The color looked exactly how he liked it.
The coffeepot was still on warm, and he went to grab himself a cup. “How do you like your coffee?” he asked.
“Uh, cream, no sugar,” she said.
He smiled. He knew exactly how she liked her coffee. He’d watched her make herself a mug enough times. It’s how he also knew she could cook. If she wasn’t down in time to eat with the rest of the staff, Murphy often refused to cook any more. Once Murphy was gone, Harper came into the kitchen to cook herself some food. Oftentimes, he’d watch what she cooked and wish he’d gotten the food she had made.
Murphy had been a good cook, but the bastard was now dead. He watched Harper, she didn’t look frazzled, and she concentrated on plating his breakfast. He hadn’t even noticed her make toast, yet there were a couple of slices on the plate. She arranged the bacon and eggs, then lifted the plate toward him.
“You’re not going to eat?” he asked.
“I already ate,” she said.
“Then join me for coffee.” He held out her mug, and it looked like she wanted to argue with him. “That’s an order, not a request.”
And with that, he made his way into the dining room. He was pretty sure he heard her huff, which was just an added layer to her cuteness. Enzo couldn’t help but smile.
He cut into the bacon, and it was perfectly crisp, and the eggs were not too hard, nor too soft, not an ounce of soggy or gooey to them. They were also seasoned to perfection.
Harper sat down close to him, holding her mug of coffee. Her hands were not clenched. She looked quite calm.
“Will you hire anyone else?” Harper asked.
“No.”
“Don’t you think that is a little unfair?”
“No. You’ve proven on more than one occasion you could handle it. This place doesn’t need anyone else but you.” He lifted his gaze to look at her, and he saw the annoyance in her eyes. “Do you have a problem with that?” He partly expected her to shrivel up and submit to him.
Harper did not shrivel.
However, she did not back down.
“No,” she said. “I can handle it.”
“Good.”
