Page 31 of His Dark Pact

Chapter Ten

Kyle’s Demands

––––––––

BRUNCH PASSED IN MUCHthe same way. Amy grappled with her perplexing blend of nerves and excitement as she pushed the eggs around her plate while trying to concentrate on the things Kyle was saying.

Those conversation points became the basis for her day.

Meeting with the cook, a large and overbearing man named Leonard, who provided her with a neverending list of ingredients he required for the upcoming week, which she seemed expected to order, contacting Kyle’s dry cleaner to chase a number of suits that had yet to be delivered, and tackling the itinerary of changes he wanted for the upcoming garden landscape redevelopment.

She even met Rufus, a friendly hound who came bounding over to see Kyle in the afternoon. Amy hadn’t known there was a dog in residence until then, but she tickled behind his ears as Kyle rattled off more orders. By the time she’d checked the grandfather clock, the hours after brunch had flown past, and wearily, she climbed the stairs to her room.

She was sitting there an hour later, still staring at her phone, when a knock at the door disturbed her trance. The light around her had bled into twilight, yet somehow, she hadn’t noticed. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was already after six o’clock.

“Yes?” Her heart skipped a beat as she rushed to the door.

It had to be Kyle, didn’t it? She’d only noticed Stevens and Leonard on the grounds, so who else could it be? Opening the door slowly, excited unease twisted inside her as her deduction was proved to be accurate. It was her employer at the door.

“Mr. Kyle?” She clung to the frame as though it was keeping her upright, still unsure why he had such a persuasive effect on her.

She’d met good-looking guys, hadn’t she? There hadn’t been many, and most had been before Graham, but it wasn’t as if Kyle was the first. She was supposed to be too old for this hormone-provoked display of giddiness, yet it seemed, despite her resolve to the contrary, she had little authority over her reactions.

“Dinner will be at half past seven.” He thrust a large, sealed bag in her direction. A hanger stuck out from the top, indicating the contents might be clothing. “You’ll be expected to attend wearing this.”

“Okay.” She took the plastic cover from him, her mind reeling at the news. He expected her to attend—that was a strange way of inviting her to dinner—but then brunch had been a business meal. Maybe dinner would be the same?

“In the dining room, sir?”

He nodded. “Cook will bring each course to the small vestibule between the dining room and the kitchen. You will be expected to serve them from there.”

“Serve?” Was that what he’d just said? “Isn’t that a maid’s job?”

Not that she’d seen any such staff member since she’d been there, but there was a good reason for that. Maids were from the last century. They had no place in a modern household, even one as idiosyncratic as Kyle’s.

“I don’t have a maid.” His tone was condescending, as though she should have known better. “But I do have a rather capable housekeeper on trial, and I’d like for her to serve me dinner tonight.”

“Right.” She gripped the bag, contemplating how to respond.