Arranged: Bound By Contract (girlxintersex)

Chapter 10

Chapter 10
Stella POV

The stranger I invited into my kitchen appeared to be one with it. I opted to pick the easiest task, which was to prepare the salad. She appeared to know where everything was, as she did not even ask me where the pots and utensils were.

I wouldn't have known the utensils were in the drawer that connects to the little island counter.

I stared in astonishment as she rinsed the chicken, seasoned it, and placed it in the oven. She was now sometimes checking on it while making a sauce for it. If I were to attempt this, I would simply put the chicken in with the seasonings.

But every time I turned to look at her, I saw that she was gazing at me. She would then modestly tilt her head to the side, her eyes giving mini-side glances.

"Is there something wrong?" I questioned.

"Your clothes?"

I was so anxious about the chicken not tasting like rubber that I forgot I was wearing a sultry maid outfit. "Um...my wife wants me to dress like this." I said, sliding a carrot into my mouth and munching on the crisp veggie. "She is such a piece of trash box."

"Don't you love your wife?"

I snorted and returned to chopping the carrots. They were not cutting in the ideal manner. Some were chopped into larger chunks than others.

"No, without a certain, I love her money." I snorted again.

"Wow. That is straightforward."

"Yes, I don't give a fuck; don't tell her."

She threw out another round of charming giggles, and I found myself laughing. I looked over at her. She was very pure and had a white air about her. She moved effortlessly from the sauce pan to the over-the-counter oven. She carefully observed the chicken before shutting the oven door.

"How long you've been married?" She inquired with curiosity. Her expression was somewhat contorted, and I inferred from what I said about not loving my wife. I'd understand. She appeared to be devoid of any resentment against anyone.

"2 days,"

She whispered to herself, "Two days," and then spoke a little more loudly. "Two days? Are you sure it isn't two years? Don't you think life is too short to despise her? Did she do something wrong?"

Mateo was nothing more than a walking, breathing nightmare in my life. If my father's business hadn't gone southward, I wouldn't have given her a second consideration.

"It's an arranged marriage, therefore nothing but business between us."

"Is she permitted to be with someone else?"

"I really don't give a fuck." Gazing at the marginally taller female, I spoke. She has a petite frame. As I studied her face, I realized how much younger she seemed than the number she gave me.

"You will meet her at supper."

"Are you making me stay?" Her face was filled with confusion. I can't get over how her face seemed like a walking expression. Her face twists it in response to every word that is uttered to her.

"Yes, you are."

Her adorable wide-set eyes enlarge, indicating at least four distinct levels of astonishment.

"Has no one ever invited you to dinner?"

"Yeah, I was invited largely to help out. Not really interacting."

"Oh, so they hire you as a serving girl?" I asked.

She nodded. I nearly felt horrible for having her cook, but since she appeared to like it, I decided to let it be.

"Would I be a bitch if I asked you to cook for me every day?" I Sheepishly divulged.

She instantly shook her head. Her body moves slowly towards me, and she holds my hand carefully and smiles. "I enjoy cooking and appreciate that you are allowing me to stay for supper. It's very lovely." She smiled even larger. She reminds me of a Disney princess—the attractive, stupid, and nice one. If she had snow-white pale skin, I'd say she looks just like her.

We met each other's gaze. I could tell the mood was becoming increasingly unpleasant, especially when her grin did not fade, but rather increased. She exuded so good energy that it was almost weird.

I cleared my throat to ease the discomfort, and it worked as she turned her body almost like a ballet dancer and slipped to the oven. She perks up and giggled, her head turned to look at me. "It's finished. Do you smell that?" She asked, taking a deep breath of the air. She clapped her hands and performed a little dance.

Ok.

If there were a zombie apocalypse, she would definitely die first. Because I would certainly feed her flesh to them. I soon shook out of my bizarre thoughts and continued chopping the vegetables.

I overheard the baking pan being placed on the counter. I looked over at the chicken.

Despite the extreme heat, they were sizzling. The chicken looks wonderful since it was dressed in a bright golden brown. I observed her grab the sauce pan and paint the crimson sauce over them.

Beautiful.

"Are there any cute boys? Preferably sexier than my wife?" I inquired as I drizzled ranch dressing over the salad and stirred it with a wooden spoon in the other hand.

When she didn't respond, I looked across at her and saw a flushed crimson on her white cheeks. Jesus.

"Who is it?"

"He is a jerk. He went on a date with me once, we had sex, and the following day he acts like he doesn't know me."

I chose based on what she had just told me. She wasn't a virgin; she just dressed and behaved like one, and she really likes jerky dudes.

"I want him to utilize."

She looked up at me, her face furrowed in an adorable scowl. "To Use,"

"Well, not right now...maybe in a few days to make my wife jealous."

"Why?"

"Because I'd want to play with her a bit."

Isn't it preferable to play computer games? Then tamper with someone's feelings?"

"No," I said plainly.

"Well, Spartan's a jerk."

I rolled my eyes at the name. Spartan? No surprise he's such a jerk. However, I see why he treated her poorly. She is too gentle. And I was not a softie.

"Well, I need that jerk to utilize."

"Good luck, he doesn't talk to me."

"Can you just tell me the address?"

"Next door."

"Where?"

"Over on the right, and I am on the left."

Grinning, I made mental plans. Basically just the lawn part us. I love it.

"It's finished," she murmured, gazing at the Chicken with love and admiration. To me, it was just the ideal chicken.

Can I arrange the table?" She inquired, her eyes sparkling with eagerness.

"Um... sure?"

"It's going to be fun!"

"I will go call Mateo."

"Your wife has such a lovely name."

"Mhmm,"