Bittersweet Expectations (Hate at First Flight #0.5)

4. The Bunny Slippers Misunderstanding

Despite it having been three days since I signed the contract to work in this dream house, I still couldn't wrap my mind around it.

Despite the fact that I'd just spent the whole day helping a world class chef cook up a five-course meal with restaurant quality food, I was still justifiably stunned.

And despite the fact that I was living in a state of the art room compared to my miniscule and pathetic one at home, I still worried that it was all a dream and that I would soon be forced to wake up.

The entire duration of my shower, I thought of the events that had elapsed over the course of the last three days.

Leah had taken me out for a celebratory dinner as soon as I got home that day, then she told me not to worry. The day after that she called in sick and took me out wardrobe shopping, claiming that it was all part of her payback for what mom did for her. Then after that she picked out an elegant yet extravagant dress that wouldn't see the light of day, considering he fact that I would be cleaning a house and not spending time going out anywhere glamorous. Then yesterday I spent the whole day cleaning up her house as a way of thank you.

Leah was definitely a gift. And I had no more doubts about working at the hotline. I mean, it was the least I could do.

As soon as I got dressed, I slipped back into the kitchen.

The food was already plated up in impeccable style and looked too picturesque to be eaten, but at the same time it was mouthwatering.

"Close your mouth, young lady," Gerard's fatherly voice said. "Flies might wander in."

I hadn't notice I'd been gawking, mouth agape at the food. "Sorry."

He chuckled just as the doorbell rang.

"He must've arrived," he commented before picking up the piping tube filled with cream.

The doorbell rang again.

"Who?" I asked.

"Mr Clarke, of course, dearie." He didn't elaborate as he did the finishing touches.

I was confused. Mr Clarke couldn't move. And as far as I knew, Mrs Clarke's sons were out of the country. One at this honeymoon and another on a business trip.

Maybe it was one of them?

The bell rang again. And again. And again.

"Geesh," Gerard exclaimed. "Ashleigh dearie, would you please go and answer the door. I don't know where the others have disappeared to, and the younger Mr Clarke is quite impatient." He offered an obligatory smile.

I nodded hastily before running out of the kitchen.

I stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath as I opened it.

"...no, this is not the best time to be talking to me, James. No!" A deep voice greeted me.

I looked at the owner of it.

He was wearing a tailored black Armani suit and had his back to me, his phone by his ear, staring at the compound as he paced slowly. "Screw the whole entire thing, James. I don't care if the deal's not going to happen. I can't deal with this right now." He grunted out in an anger-filled tone.

My eyes widened. He sounded pissed.

"No! You'll be out looking for a job by tomorrow if you don't handle this yourself!"