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ALAYNA
YOU MUST NEVER ENTER Master Brandon’s bedroom, nor his study. He’s not a very patient man. He allows no one in his room. You can do whatever you want in the house but never go inside his private space unless you are permitted to do so. Do you understand?” Madam Lennie warns. It is clear in her pale, cerulean eyes how serious she is.
The head housemaid's hair is ash-colored and seems as if it has been tied in a bun forever. She has a strong countenance and stands about five-feet-five-inches tall. If I had to guess, I’d say she is in her late fifties.
“I understand, Madam,” I gulp and respond with a nod.
I always do research before job interviews, so I know a little about the Master. He’s twenty-eight, a self-made billionaire, and the sole owner and Chairman of Grethe and Elga Enterprises, a telecommunications and electronic consumer company headquartered in Manhattan.
But his family background, where he graduated, and his face are all a mystery. No single soul has seen him in person. He never shows up anywhere public and never attends any important events. I can’t help but wonder why.
Does he have a disease? Is he allergic to sunrise? A vampire? I want to know.
“Um, Madam? I just want to ask...”
“Yes, Miss Hart?” she prompts, acknowledging the hesitation in my voice. We stop in the middle of a long stairway.
“Does he really not come out? The Master?”
She turns to meet my gaze. “One more thing,” she says, “that is the last time you will ask me that.”
Was that a yes? I swallow again.
As we continue to the staircase's curvature, I can’t help but admire the mansion’s grandeur. I didn’t know mansions still existed in New York City, but that’s not so surprising if you walk to the posh end of the Upper East Side.
The house’s passé Greek structure enchants me. Although the house is undeniably ancient, modernity is still present. The chandeliers illuminate the hall, and the floors are so clean, it seems as though no single speck of dirt has ever touched it. Yet, I can’t miss the dark gray draperies covering the tall windows, as if they’re there to prevent light from coming in. And the surroundings’ silence is deafening—making it lonely and empty.
However, the walls display treasured art pieces and oil canvases. I lean close to one—a beautiful scene of a soaring pine tree covered in snow. But what got my attention the most is the portrait of a handsome young man hanging at the center. He has dark hair, chiseled jaws, piercing gray eyes, a perfectly aligned nose, a mouth made for kissing, and an utterly stoic expression.
“Madam, who’s he?” I mumble.
She spins and throws me a warning look but doesn’t answer. After a long walk, we stop in front of a hand-carved wooden door on the second floor. Madam Lennie draws out a bunch of keys from her pocket and chooses one.
“The Master wants you to use this room. You’re fortunate. The rooms in this passage are for the guests,” she says as she unlocks the door and hands me a key. “Here’s your duplicate,” she explains. Her expression is still blank.
Does she even know how to smile?
“Thanks, Madam. I’ll just settle my things inside.” I smile, wondering if she would smile back. Predictably, she didn’t.
“Your job starts tomorrow, but I’ll meet you in the living room in one hour. I’ll give you a house tour.”
“Of course. Thank you, Madam.” I smile, then open the door.
I step into my room, dragging my luggage behind me, and my eyes widen the moment I lift my head.
“Goodness, gracious! This room is for a princess!” I exclaim, then cautiously lower my voice, anxious someone might hear me. I look around, astonished at the realization that I am meant to be alone in such an enormous room. I don’t need so much space, but God, it’s incredible.
Unlike the mansion’s gloominess, the room is impeccably appointed with European elegance that showcases full white walls. The floors are made with Italian marble tiles, a gas fireplace sits on the far wall, and there’s a sitting area containing two small, padded loungers. Also, the curtains aren’t gray, but baby blue! The queen-sized bed bears yellow floral patterns with fluffy-looking pillows.
I’m in love! It’s as if they know my favorite colors. But the thing that startled me most is the MacBook glowing on the desk. I wonder if I’m allowed to use it.
Considering the extravagance of the room, I have to check what’s up with the bathroom. And as expected, the bathroom is boasting luxury. My highest hopes were of a clawfoot bathtub or something I could relax in. Then, my eyes spot a Jacuzzi! I want to collapse in amazement.
It is all too much to take in for a lowly assistant cook, but who am I to complain? The Master is probably generous to compensate for his mysterious lifestyle.
I remember that Madam Lennie wants me to meet her in an hour, so I quickly unpack my things. I pull out my clothes and the few dresses I brought from home and set them in the wardrobe. Then, I lay my cosmetics and accessories on the bed; among them is the heart necklace Mom gave me.
Oh my God. Mom! I immediately grab my phone and call home.
“Hello?” a cute, high-pitched voice answers right away. It’s Martin, the one that cried the loudest when I said I was leaving home for a while.
“Hi, it’s Alayna.”
“Alayna!” he squeals excitedly. “Are you at work yet?”
“Yeah, I just arrived,” I answer, staring at the necklace. “Is Mom there?”
“Yes, but I want to talk to you!”
I chuckle. I imagine him pouting. “Fine. Did you miss me?”
He giggles. “I miss you! When are you coming home?”
“Very soon, but I want you to make sure you have good grades at school and show it to me when I come home, okay?”
“Then you will give me a chocolate cake?”
“As many as you like, but you have to share it with others too, okay?”
“Yes, because Mira wants it too!”
“Very good.” I chuckle. “But can you give the phone to Mom for now?”
“Okay,” he says, sounding sad. “Mom! Alayna’s on the phone!” Martin shouts, the second to the youngest of twelve adopted siblings. I chuckle at hearing his voice. I hear his little footsteps running on our wooden floor and picture him sprinting into Mom’s room.
“Who’s that?” It’s Mom’s voice.
“It’s Alayna! She’s on the phone,” says Martin.
“Oh really?” I hear noisy scratches on the other line before she answers. “Alayna?”
“Mom?”
“Oh, darling. We miss you already! Are you at the mansion?” she asks. I clasp my mouth, hearing her voice.
“Y-yeah, Mom.” I sob. “I miss you too.”
“How is it? Are they nice to you?”
I’m not sure if Madam Lennie was nice, but I shouldn’t tell her that.
“I haven’t met anyone, except for the head housemaid, but I’m sure they are.” I sniffed.
“Oh, honey. Are you crying?” If only Mom was beside me, she would have already wrapped me in her arms. I wipe my tears away.
“No. I just miss you all so much. I wanted to hear your voice.”
“We’re fine, Alayna. Your siblings love you,” she says with a soft chuckle. “Do you want to talk to them?”
“I wanted to, but...” I laugh. “I only have an hour to prepare, but I can still call you later.”
“Sure, darling. Go ahead. I’m glad you called, but make sure to call me again, okay?”
“Okay,” I promise.
“I love you, darling.”
“I love you too.”
I hang up. Not wanting to sink into homesickness, I remind myself why I’m here. I have twelve siblings, and Mom needs help paying for her neuromuscular scoliosis treatment and debts to settle. And this job is thrice the salary of the last restaurant I worked in.
I continue setting my stuff out and go to the bathroom. It takes everything in me to avoid using the Jacuzzi as it will make me forget the time.
After a regular shower, I step out of the bathroom. I choose denim pants and a shirt as an outfit, fix my hair into a bun, and never bothered to put on makeup, though I apply a small amount of lip tint for a glossy effect. I turn to gaze at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
Look who’s ready!
I glance at my wristwatch, and I have ten minutes.
I come out of my room and double-check if I locked the door behind me. My limbs feel like they’re not my own. I’m too nervous even to operate.
I blow out a sharp breath. I shouldn’t be nervous. Madam Lennie is an employee as well, and this mansion probably has more employees than I expected. But God, her stern face bothers me so much.
Reaching the end of the stairs, Madam Lennie is already waiting.
“Miss Hart,” she says. “You. Are. Late,” she points out, word for word.
“Late? B-but you said—”
“Early is on time, on time is late.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll remember that.”
“The first level has the living room, dining area, the main kitchen, and the staff’s quarters,” Madam Lennie introduces immediately. “The second level has the grand piano and the library. The third and fourth are for the Master’s use. As the assistant chef, Alayna, you are allowed to enter his study on the third floor. I don’t permit the housemaids to wander around the higher floors if they are not doing chores. But just like them, our curfew is at ten o’clock. No one can go upstairs unless it’s an emergency.”
“I understand, Madam.”
“Come, I’ll show you the kitchen and introduce you to the chef.”
I keep following Madam Lennie until we stop in front of the central kitchen, and it is everything I ever dreamed of. It’s polished with a gourmet marble island, professional-grade appliances, and ample food storage. There’s also an informal eating area beside the windows in which you can enjoy a spectacular outdoor view.
“Sir Oliver,” Madam Lennie calls the man in white uniform standing in the prep area, but I can only see his broad back.
A blond-haired man flashes out a wide grin the moment he turns. I can’t believe how young and attractive he is, but what astonishes me more is he’s who I expected.
“And who do we have here?” he asks, and God, his voice. It’s deep, smooth, and manly.
“I want to introduce you to your new assistant chef,” Madam introduces. “This is Alayna Hart, and Alayna, you will address him as Sir—”
“It’s alright, Lennie,” Oliver interjects and finally extends a hand towards me. “Hello, Alayna. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Oliver Katrakis,” he says politely, but it’s as if he is anticipating my arrival. He has a very charming smile across his lips.
I shake his hand right away. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to release his grip, but I do.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Katrakis—I mean Sir Oliver,” I stammer in surprise. “I saw you in the articles, but I can’t believe it. You’re the CEO of Grethe and Elga Enterprises and the Chairman Lucien’s sole representative.”
“Someone did some research,” he remarks with a pleasant smile. “Technically, you are correct, Miss Hart. And yes, I’m also Brandon’s cousin and his private chef as of the moment.”
“Wow,” is all I can say.
Well, that’s new information. No one addresses Oliver Katrakis as the Chairman’s cousin in public records and news sites, but their relationship made sense now.
“Alayna?” Madam Lennie cuts in, her expression still passive.
“Yes, Madam.”
“Oliver will explain your job description. I’ll leave you from here. I’ll be in the living room.”
Yes! I want to scream out loud in victory. The man seems more pleasant to be with than her, despite being the CEO or the chef or whatsoever—no offense to her. I want to thank Madam, but she already excused herself and left.
“So, did you have a grand tour?” he asks with a genuine grin.
I smile back. “Yes, except for the higher floors.”
“But you didn’t see the outside?”
“Besides the dancing fountain and the eclectic porch?”
“Oh, you missed the good part, I see.” His eyes gleam. “Why don’t we take a walk?”
I shrug, then smile. “Yes, sure.”
From the central kitchen, we stroll to the mansion’s main hall and exit to a pathway towards a connecting bridge to the house’s left-wing, and Oliver leads me to a part of the house I haven’t seen yet.
There’s a terrace and an outdoor swimming pool on the second floor that overlooks the city skyline.
“God! It’s beautiful. I can come up here?” I say as I walk to the balcony’s metal and glass barriers to get a broader view of the city.
“Of course, you can,” Sir Oliver assures, stopping next to me.
“And I can use the pool?”
“No one will stop you.” He smiles. “No one comes here except for me and Lennie, and now you.”
“It’s amazing...”
The landscape glows blue over the white clouds. He is right; I missed the best part of the mansion during the house tour. Here, I fantasize myself diving in the pool or probably spending my free day lying under the sun reading a new novel.
“Now, why don’t we sit? Tell me more about yourself.” Oliver perches on the wooden bench, then offers the space across him.
I blink. “What would you like to know?” I ask as I sit.
“Well, I already saw your CV...” He scratches his chin. “How about telling me something that’s not on the paper?”
“I’m not sure if there’s anything else.” I chortle.
He smiles. “Tell me more about your position in the Palazzo Franchetti. The head chef’s food taster, right?”
“That’s right,” I say nervously.
“You must have a sensitive sense of taste. Interesting.” He grins, amused. “That’ll make you an exceptional chef too. But why did you come here? In a mansion, to serve a master you haven’t even met yet when there’s a lot of excellent restaurants out there where your talent is needed?”
“I wanted to go there too,” I explain, “but my previous position being my first job doesn’t have enough experience with being a chef. Though I assure you that I can—”
“That’s fine, Alayna,” he cuts me off. “I understand what you mean there, and as your new superior now, I can teach you everything I know. Though, I have to remind you that I’m not always here, so you’re going to have to serve Brandon with your cooking alone. He’s the one who chose you for this job after all.” Sir Oliver grins again.
Oh, of course. The faceless Chairman Brandon Lucien will be the one I’ll serve, so he’s got to be the one to choose.
I remember my interview with some secretary at Grethe and Elga Enterprises company building. I was curiously the only applicant back then. He only asked me a few questions, and that was it! I got hired without even trying to cook a few dishes. I couldn’t believe it at first, thinking that it was peculiar. Then again, who would doubt a huge company as G&E Enterprises?
“That’s so assuring,” I say.
“And you grew up in Kansas?” he asks again.
“Yes, in Lawrence, and I had never been anywhere else before I worked in Venice. I got my degree in culinary arts at The Arts Institute in Kansas City.”
“I’ve only been there once,” he adds. “So, does your family live there too?”
“Yes,” I chuckle, “with my mom and twelve adopted siblings.”
“Twelve!” He gasps in shock, then grins. “Your parents must be good citizens in your town.”
“They were, but then Dad passed away,” I recall bitterly. “How about you?”
“Me? What about me?” He stares at me; I’m not sure if he’s offended or confused by my question.
“Is there anyone else in the family living in this house?” I ask curiously.
“No, it’s just me. They’re all in Greece,” he answers, simply and glacially. I can’t decide if Sir Oliver is easy to talk to or if I’m complicating things with all my questions. I still feel a bit of awkwardness, but he doesn’t seem uptight. I decide to apologize anyway.
“I’m sorry. You don’t need to answer my questions.”
He laughs. “It’s fine. I’m just surprised. I rarely talk about myself here,” he admits.
“Probably because no one dared to ask?”
Sir Oliver’s expression brightens, amused. “You are so curious, aren’t you? I was born in Greece—Athens, to be precise, but I spent most of my time in New York. Studying, exploring, building things—everything.”
Oh, so he is Greek.
“That sounds productive,” I say.
“It is.”
“Then, how long have you been working for your cousin?” I go on.
“Ever since he needed me.” He sighs, his expression worried. “I can’t remember, exactly,” he whispers, gazing away.
“Oh.” I take his answer as ’no further questions, please.’
“Alright.” He clasps his hands together. “As for your job description, it’s not very complicated, but our master is very picky. He has a particular appetite, so each day, I make him a menu for him to choose from. We must follow the menu and never improvise.”
“I understand, sir.” I used to work with the most ill-tempered head chef in the history of head chefs, sarcasm intended, when I was in Palazzo Franchetti. There, I was serving hundreds of customers per day and dealing with each day’s stress. So, I guess this is not so bad.
“Any more questions?”
I dare to ask about Master Lucien once more. “Would I ever meet him, then?
He smiles. “Not usually, but I believe you will.”
Even if I don’t exactly understand what he means, I believe him. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome. I don’t want to take away your first free day here. I’d better be going, Alayna.” He stands up.
I grin. “No worries, sir.”
“Sure. See you tomorrow then, Alayna.” Sir Oliver shakes my hand again, softly squeezing it before marching away. After a short stroll around the pool, I go back to the central kitchen.
Familiarizing myself with the workstation, I open every single drawer, explore the cold storage, and take a look at the stock of ingredients I can use. I’m thrilled to find rare, very expensive, and special spices from different parts of the world—ones you cannot buy at any grocery store. My thinking is, since I have signed a one-year contract, I might as well get used to the massive kitchen.
I go back to my room after thirty minutes of reading the recipes and ogling at the ingredients. I now have less than fifteen hours for myself. There are questions in my brain and new information I need to process.
The conversation I had with Sir Oliver lingers in my mind, and I want to know more about the Master. I sit down at the desk with the glowing MacBook. I hope that this isn’t some sort of test and that I’m actually allowed to use the computer. I type Oliver Katrakis into Google—though I have done this a couple of times.
Hundreds of search results pop up. I bite my lip, clicking the first link.
Oliver Katrakis. He’s thirty–two and has been the CEO of Grethe and Elga Enterprises for five years. A Princeton graduate, double major, and award-winning entrepreneur. Besides his work, he has various interests and is gifted with many talents.
I exit the site and select the next.
G&E Technologies. One of the biggest firms owned by G&E Enterprises is now one of the leading IT companies in New York City.
Who is the Faceless Chairman Brandon Lucien?
Who’s behind the success of G&E Enterprises?
Still, nothing about the Master appeared. I close the tab and open a social media site. I type Brandon Lucien in the search bar, and numbers of similar names appeared, but none relating to the Chairman. I shut down the computer, then go to bed.
What did I expect? Of course, he wouldn’t make a profile page on Facebook or something. He probably just wants his life private. He wouldn’t be the ‘Faceless Chairman’ for no reason. But why does he have to be so enigmatic?
I stare at my high ceiling and questions just can’t stop flooding my head.
I WAKE UP EARLIER THAN my alarm this morning. Heck, I barely even slept, having all these unexplainable emotions churning inside me.
Nonetheless, I can’t decide if I’m excited or just nervous because I’m sure that work won’t be easy for the next twelve months. I lazily swing my legs out of the bed and step into the bathroom.
After a shower, I put on a regular white chef uniform and fix my hair. I hurry to the kitchen and arrive a few minutes earlier than Sir Oliver. I’m thankful for this, remembering Madam Lennie’s rules about being on time.
“Good morning, Alayna.” He immediately puts on an apron when he walks in. “Are you ready?”
“Good morning, sir. Yes, I’m ready!” I reply heartily.
He draws out a sheet of paper from the wall and hands it to me. It’s a copy of the meal schedule and the list of dishes he spoke about yesterday. It says breakfast is at seven, twelve noon for lunch, and seven for dinner. Today is Tuesday, so for breakfast, Elipsiomo bread and Kagianas—a scrambled egg dish with tomatoes and topped with feta. I assist Sir Oliver in preparing the dish.
The dish is easy to prepare, and two or more people working in the kitchen made it even easier.
“We might as well give Brandon a cup of English Breakfast. He likes tea very much,” he advises after we finish. He takes out a teacup from the cupboard, then pours brewed tea from the kettle. Then, he transfers the food I cooked onto a plate and sets it with a garnish.
“Preparing for the Master’s meal is like serving an important restaurant guest,” he says, lifting the plates and transferring them onto a food trolley. “You’re quite fast in the kitchen.”
“Maybe because egg dishes are one of my specialties,” I say proudly.
“Great, because our master is fond of those.” He grins. “One, in particular, is Eggs Benedict—which is his breakfast tomorrow.”
Alright, I guess this really isn’t so hard after all. Not only was Sir Oliver quiet in the kitchen, but he was also kind. We were working well together; I could get used to this.
“Oh, I’ll take note of that. So, um, I’ll clean up here first, and I’ll start to organize the ingredients for the Master’s lunch?”
“Of course,” he agrees. “But after that, I suggest you visit the library upstairs.”
“I’m allowed?”
“Sure. I have a few recipe books there that you can borrow. And oh, there’s fiction as well, if that’s your style.”
“Oh, that’s perfect! Thank you, Sir Oliver.”
“I’d better take this to Brandon, then I’ll come after you.”
“You will?” I ask in surprise. I’m taken aback by my own words. “Sorry.”
“Of course. I’ll show you around. You can say that it’s a part of your orientation from me,” he says with a smile. Honestly, I imagined Sir Oliver as a stern, intimidating, more like the CEO kind of person—if that’s a thing. But he is so kind, and I can speak to him so casually.
I return the smile. “Thanks again, sir.”
“You’re very welcome. And, by the way, make sure Lennie doesn’t see you go up there. It’s not that you’re forbidden to go there. Brandon just uses it sometimes. If she does see you, let her know I gave you permission to use the library.”
It sounds like a dangerous offer, but I would love to see the library, regardless. I watch Sir Oliver push the trolley outside.
After cleaning, I walk to the third floor and reach the library. I turn the knob and grin when I find that it is open. I breathe in awe as thousands of books appear before my eyes. It’s so beautiful! The library is polished with a granite fireplace and a profoundly comforting living room set.
I heave a sigh, relieved that Madam Lennie isn’t around to reprimand me.
I always loved reading and collecting romance books at home, so seeing these shelves just makes my heart lift. I start my journey inside, searching for cookbooks, and stop at one of the sections.
Instead of recipe books, I stumble upon a leather-bound book placed in a glass cage in the middle of the classics section. I lean forward, touching the glass as I try to read the title. It’s The Macbeth and Hamlet by William Shakespeare. The air instantly abandons my lungs when I catch sight of its leather-bound cover. It’s very old, but still so stunning.
“Wow,” I whisper, but then I suddenly hear a snap sound from behind. I jerk in surprise.
I turn around and find Sir Oliver so close. I won’t deny that he is just gorgeous. And I must admit, I’ve never seen someone so handsome as him. He’s the kind of man who would sweep you off your feet in one look. His presence alone radiates charisma.
“Careful,” he says softly. “That’s a first edition.” He is so close, and I swear, I can feel his breath on my neck.
My eyes grow wide. “Do you mean this book is four-hundred years old?”
“1663 to 1664 from the Third Folio. Do you want to see it?”
I shake my head firmly. “I don’t think I can hold that book. That is very rare.” I chuckle nervously. “But that is amazing. How did you get it?”
“Not without difficulty, and this is actually Brandon’s,” he mumbles with a frown on his forehead. “One of his collections. Anyway, I’ll show you my shelves.”
“Oh, of course.” I step aside. “Please, show me the way.”
I follow him as we stroll the library’s hall. It’s incredibly huge. He points out each section from the classics, fiction, non-fiction, and volumes of economic and business books. Honestly, I enjoy listening to his voice. His voice sounds so soothing, and I could listen to him talk all day.
We stop at one particular tall shelf in the left end corner.
“These books here are mine.” He pokes one finger at a title and draws it from the shelf. The cover is new and glossy and the size of a magazine. “This is called Mastering the Art of Greek Cooking. I wrote this book under the pen name of Oliver Youngwood.” He gives me the book.
“Wow. And you write cookbooks too! What a surprise,” I praise, beginning to admire the man a lot. It’s true what they said about him on the internet then. He’s a man of many talents. “Just what else can you do aside from being a CEO and a Chef?”
The side of his mouth curves into a grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“What will I find here?” I query as I open the first page and find pictures of unfamiliar dishes.
“You make good food, Alayna, but cooking isn’t just following the recipe.”
“It’s the taste’s authenticity,” I agree.
“Yes, and if you want to become Brandon’s chef, you must study more. You know by now that he’s Greek, and he’s very fond of the traditional dishes, but he’s into western cuisines as well. His mother used to cook for him as a child, and even if he was born and raised here, he never forgets where he came from.”
Well, that’s another glimpse of the Master’s mysterious life. If only I had known that he’s Greek, I’d probably taken the time to learn more about them. But even his origin isn’t in the public records. I have experience cooking Western, Middle Eastern, and Asian cuisine. I always loved Mediterranean food, but my knowledge in Greek cuisine isn’t broad, though I have a wide range of experience with Italian cuisine.
“And this isn’t in the notes you gave me?”
“Those are just his favorites,” he informs. “You must learn more.”
I smile. “Thank you. I always love exploring more in my field.” Honestly, it makes me feel like I’m still a newbie, but this is a challenge I’m up for.
“By the way, you don’t have to call me Sir; Oliver would do.”
I clear my throat. “But you’re the Master’s cousin, and Madam Lennie would think it’s inappropriate—”
“I’m saying this so you don’t feel awkward around me,” he cuts me off and sends me another charming grin.
I blink. Am I being awkward?
“Fine. Oliver.” I laugh.
“Good.” He beams. “Would you like to stay here a bit more?”
“I’d like to study this first. I can still come back here later, right?”
“Of course. Now, what would you like to know first?”
When we went back to the central kitchen, Oliver pretty much only speaks about Greece while we work. I learn that the country produces a range of fruits, nuts, beans, oil, and green vegetables, complemented by a selection of herbs. Those are the base of the traditional Greek diet. Seafood is also popular and a standard part of their regime, and as for the holidays, they specifically use meat such as beef or lamb.
Knowing a little about them makes me want to visit the place. Thinking of their festivals, I imagine a colorful life with people dancing in the streets, parades, men and women in costume, and probably fireworks. I want to explore more about their diet and tradition.
“One of my favorites is souvlaki,” Oliver says as we put the finishing touches on the Master’s lunch. “It’s basically grilled meat on a skewer that can be anything from chicken, pork, lamb, or beef, and vegetables—though I prefer chicken. And it usually comes with a side dish like pita bread or tzatziki.”
“Like barbecue.”
“Yes, like a barbecue.” He chuckles softly. “But as I said, the taste should be authentic for a Greek’s taste buds.”
I run my tongue on my bottom lip. Just the description of it makes me hungry. “I’d like to try that sometime.”
“Of course. Some time.”
I ask about something else. “I’m just kind of curious; you said you were born in Athens, but why did you come here? Your country sounds amazing... why would you want to leave?” It is also incredible how I can finally speak casually with him when he wants me to call him by his first name.
“Yes, it is.” He smiles, not answering my question. “My family still lives there.”
“Your parents?”
“Yes, my parents and my sister. Though you’ll get to meet my brother soon. He just doesn’t often come to the mansion.” Oliver stands, walks over to the fridge, and grabs two bottles of beer after we finish our lunch. “Do you drink?”
I shrug. “Occasionally. Is it okay?”
He flashes a half-smile, sits across from me, and gives me the other bottle. “Technically speaking, I’m your direct superior, and I allow you.”
“Thank you.” I take the beer. “But I thought Madam Lennie is superior.”
“Well, she’s in charge of the household, and her rules somewhat apply to you. Your position is as important as hers, but since I’m Brandon’s right-hand, she is also under my wing.”
I nod, agreeing. Frankly, I prefer him more than Madam Lennie. She seems nice, but she’s also so... blank.
“Is it so bad that I’m more curious now?”
“About what?” Oliver chugs his first shot of the beer. “Tell me.”
“Honestly, I don’t mean to be nosy on such private matters, but I’m going to be living here now so I’m curious to know more about everything.” I grip the bottle tight, the condensation wetting my fingers. “It’s not wrong to know more about the Master, right?”
“There are complicated explanations as to why we moved here, Alayna. I can’t tell you about Brandon, but I can tell you some of mine.”
I grin in delight. “I’m listening.”
“I only lived there until I was ten,” he starts. “We moved here because we wanted to be free of the family circle.”
“I thought your parents are still there?”
“They just moved back. I stayed here because America grew on me. If you are a member of the Katrakis family, you must follow all the rules. They honor it so much like it’s some kind of a legal thing.”
“Rules?” I frown. “What kind of rules?”
“There’s too many of them. You’ll hurt your mind.” He laughs. This man can really smile a lot! And that’s probably why I like him more than Madam Lennie.
I have my first gulp of the beer. Surprisingly, the sweet taste outweighs its bitterness.
“Then tell me one important rule.”
“I’ll tell you something interesting. Women in the family should only marry a man from two of the few prominent families in Greece. The Stavros and Dragoumis. The same rules apply to them. They were the only clans they call the ‘alliances’ of the Katrakis family. It’s like living in the 14th century, right?”
“What is this? It sounds like there’s going to be a war, and your family needs some alliances,” I chortle at my own joke. “And it only applies to women? Why?”
“I have no idea.”
“That’s totally unfair. What if I’m a Katrakis and I fell for someone from a different family. What would they do to me?”
“They kick you out.”
My jaw drops. “As simple as that? Wow. I’m thankful I wasn’t born in your family.”
“You can say that. If only I could choose my family, I would’ve done it.”
Chills run down my spine, and I grimace. “Oh my God. It’s basically marrying a distant cousin. It’s allowed now in the law, but I can’t...” I shake my head in sheer disbelief. I feel suddenly ill. “You’re right. I’m just going to hurt my brain.”
“Stupid, isn’t it? Why do you think we’re here? Brandon despises the laws. That in particular.”
“Yes, I figured.” I’d probably just run away too.
His eyes gleam. “I like talking to you,” he remarks, frankly. “Your eagerness to learn things... It’s what I like the most.”
My cheeks redden. “Thanks.” No one has ever spoken to me this straightforwardly, yet so sweet. And his words and his bright smile are what I like the most.
“Now, would you like me to help you prepare for Brandon’s dinner?”
I look up at his handsome face. “Well, that’s my job!”
We begin sorting out the ingredients. Oliver assigns me to prepare the side dish while he takes care of the main dish as he continues to answer all my questions. But I’m careful not to ask too much. I don’t want to cross any lines.
I find myself watching him move around the kitchen. I love how he exudes confidence, and I always find men who know their way around the kitchen sexy.
As I’m chopping vegetables, it suddenly strikes me odd that the Master doesn’t bear any of the family names that were mentioned. He’s a Lucien.
