By Any Means Necessary

3

Amelia stood on the front porch, hesitant to use the key given to her and also not wanting to ring the doorbell at six in the morning. She wasn't required to be there that early, but the way Miles dismissed her the day before, liked he'd already expected her to screw up, made her want to go the extra mile to prove she wasn't the pampered princess everyone automatically assumed she was.

Without another thought, she let herself into the house as quietly as possible and tiptoed to a corner of the sitting room to place her things down. The house was dark, quiet, and creepy, the old bones making noises, welcoming her into its stillness. She swallowed her apprehension, ignored lurking shadows and made her way into the kitchen with the bag of groceries she'd purchased.

Her parents always made sure she knew her way around a kitchen. Most people thought it strange that a woman of her financial means, who always had maids, butlers, and cooks at her beck and call could actually cook. Being disowned, cut off from the family fortune, and the reason behind it, brought light as to why her father insisted she take cooking lessons. He had unconventional expectations of her. Expectations she railed against.

Other than designing, cooking was a happy place for her. Both took artistry and required her to be daring and bold, qualities her family tried to extinguish. Made sense she'd excel in areas that allowed her to be free, to be herself. She shut out thoughts of her family and let the meal prep take her away.

She decided to keep it simple and prepare her favorite breakfast meal, Eggs Benedict. The creaminess of the poached egg and hollandaise sauce combined with the saltiness of the Canadian bacon and the crunch of the toasted English muffin was the perfect breakfast bite. She set a pot of water to boil with a dash of vinegar, another for melting butter, and frantically looked around for a toaster. Finding the toaster, along with the coffee maker, on the edge of the marble counter top next to the refrigerator, she slid both items down closer to the stove where they should've been in the first place. She set about brewing her special five spice coffee and toasting the English muffins while waiting for the water to boil.

in no time the house was filled with the rich and bold aroma of freshly brewed coffee and savory pork being crisped on the stove. Foot steps headed her way and she smiled at the prospect of making Miles rethink every assumption he'd made about her. She finished prepping the first plate and plastered on a smile that quickly fell as he rounded the corner.

not Miles...

He eyed her just as she did him. Miles told her there were two others she'd yet to meet. Hopefully he'd given his roommates a heads up. She'd hate to get arrested for trespassing or breaking and entering on her first day at work.

"You must be Amelia. I'm Emilio." He smiled making an obvious enunciation at the similarities of their names. "Sounds like a match made in heaven." 

"Yes, I'm Amelia." She flustered, blushing at his comment. "Sorry, I should have told someone I'd be here this early." She set the plate down and tried to move out of his way.

"Don't worry about it." His welcoming smile eased the tension building in her shoulders. "You were given a key to come and go as you please. What I didn't know, is that cooking meals was part of your duties." His grin spread as he patted his stomach and nodded toward the plate she'd sat on the counter. "Is that for me?"

"Yes." She jumped to hand it to him and nearly knocked over the coffee mug sitting on the counter.

His bourbon eyes twinkled at her as he took his seat and she brought him the mug filled with her special brew. She tried not to stare, but was having a hard time placing his race. His name said Mexican. His skin tone said something else, maybe biracial, black and white possibly. But his accent, kind of guttural Spanish.  The thick texture of his beard and close cropped hair laid down in waves, said maybe he was just black. She connected all the dots and her heart skipped a beat. Puerto Rican.

Heeeeey Papi

She smiled at her ridiculousness and quickly stopped her mind from rehashing all her Puerto Rican Papi fantasies. "Do you take cream in your coffee."

"The question is," Amelia jumped at the intruding voice and spun around to Ian's smiling face. "Do you take cream in yours.? His eyes scanned the length of her and back up, ending with a lick of his lips to drive home the innuendo behind his question. 

She did a little perusal of her own and had to admit the navy blue slim fit suit looked good against his pale skin and accentuated his sky colored eyes. She rolled her eyes that she even noticed and let his crude comment go unanswered. She fixed him a plate as he greeted Emilio and settled at the table. She slammed the plate down in front of Ian, not caring that her beautiful presentation sloshed about.

"I'll take some cream." Emilio smiled that infectious smile and she returned it.

"What are you guys doing?"

Amelia nearly jumped out of her skin at Miles suddenly appearing in the doorway. His authoritative tone made her cower back to the stove.

"She's not here to cook your meals and wait on you hand and foot."

"I really don't mind." Dammit girl, say it with your chest. She chastised the weak, passive, submissive side Miles seemed to bring out of her.

Miles stepped up behind her and she stiffened her spine to keep from shivering as he reached around her and grabbed both her wrists, preventing her from making his plate. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Damn if that shiver didn't wrack her body anyway.

"This is not what you are being paid to do. Do as you are told."

She jerked her hands free and spun around to give him a piece of her mind, but he'd already walked off and out of the kitchen.