The Billionaire's Maid in Disguise

Twelve - "Are you practicing to be a mannequin?"

Chapter Twelve

Pia's POV

It was my first time inside the master's study room. As expected, the interior and furniture were plain and simple. No art painting hanging on the wall. It convinced me that he was not really fond of it at all.

He was behind the desk working. I felt his sadness, it radiated on me. I understood the pain so well, it's like your heart is ripped into two.

He looked drained, hollow and lifeless. His hair was a bit messy, his face was pale and haggard, and dark circles visible under his eyes.

"Good evening, sir. Here's your dinner. Beef Steak, grilled sandwiches and vegetable salad. I also added a cold and delicious orange juice, fresh from the garden."

He never bothered to look at me, just answered in a weary tone, "I only requested coffee."

I heaved a short sigh, being cautious of my reply. The last thing I wanted was to provoke him. I did not want these beautiful dishes flying everywhere in the room.

"I understood sir, but Mrs. Deary cooked this beef steak for hours to make it so delicious. She'll be very disappointed if you won't eat it."

He dropped his pen on the desk, then shot me a cold look.

"She's paid to cook delicious dishes for me, regardless if I eat it or not. So take the food away. I'm very busy, Miss Rosi, I want to be alone," he lowered his head, back to the documents in front him.

A few seconds later, aware that I was not moving an inch, he looked at me again. His well-sculpted face twisted in anger.

"Are you practicing to be a mannequin? If you are, then this is not the right place," he snapped at me, but I still stood there, tongue-tied and frozen, "What are you waiting for? I said, leave!"

I jolted at the force of his angry reply, it took me off guard.

I inhaled deeply, before answering him.

"We're worried about you, sir. Jack said that you only had coffee for breakfast and lunch. You can't have coffee again for dinner."

"Dammit," he hissed, cursing his bodyguard.

"You need to eat sir, you haven't eaten anything all day."

"It's none of your business, if I die of hunger," his eyes drilled at me, "you're not my nanny, Miss Rosi, so don't treat me like a seven year old boy."

"But sir..." I replied, but he raised a hand, to stop me from talking.

"I'm not paying you to worry either, so stick to your job, or you're fired!" he lashed out sharply, then took his pen again, shutting me out.

I cleared my throat, trying to be as gentle as possible, "I'm sorry if I offended you, sir. If you don't want to eat, then I respect your decision."

He pressed his lips together, his expression in rage.

"It's just that... we all enjoy working for you," I sighed briefly, "and we're afraid that if you won't eat, you'll die of hunger or caffeine overdose. What will happen to us if you're gone? We all rely on you, and our families. It sucks that we have to find another employment again. There are few hiring nowadays, and most employers don't give high compensation and big benefits like yours."

His lips twisted nastily, "tell the staff that I won't die easily, I'm a bad weed."

"Of course not, sir."

"You don't know me, Miss Rosi. So don't read what you only see on the surface," his voice mellowed down, "and for heaven's sake, leave now."

"What about the food?"