Serendipity Read Online Free PDF

other employees had spoken to him that way, Ethan would have fired them on the spot. But something about the older woman amused instead of insulted him, and he actually looked forward to their verbal sparring.
    â€œAre you sure you work for me and not the other way around?” he asked her.
    She stepped into the office, duster in hand, and began cleaning the mostly empty bookshelves.
    â€œI tol’ you. I have to work here. I need the money and you need me. But that doesn’t mean I have to like you.”
    â€œSo you’ve said.” He shrugged, not surprised by her bluntness.
    They’d made an agreement on day one. She’d keep his house clean and he’d pay her for her services. She intended to speak her mind, and no, he could not dock her pay when she did.
    â€œI’ll win you over yet, Rosalita.”
    She mumbled something in Spanish, and then, “When hell freezes over, Mr. Ethan. You a bad boy.”
    â€œWas a bad boy,” he reminded her for the umpteenth time.
    â€œWhen are you going to have furniture in this house?” she asked. “Just so many times I can clean the floors and dust.”
    â€œThere’s laundry and food shopping too,” he reminded her, not wanting her to grow too complacent.
    But she had a point. If he was going to make this place home, it needed to be furnished. Actually it needed to be decorated so the house reflected his taste. Not an empty shell of what the landmark used to be.
    I’ll be opening an interior design business in town, Faith had told him. He needed an interior designer and maybe a connection to someone who didn’t hate him quite so much. It seemed that all roads took him back to Faith Harrington.
    Luck?
    Good fortune?
    Serendipity, he thought, shaking his head.
    Of course he had no idea if she’d agree to take him on as a client. But at least now he had a legitimate excuse to see her again that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with necessity.
    Or so he needed to believe.

Three
    Living over a bar wasn’t conducive to a good night’s sleep, and Faith woke up exhausted. Thanks to the music playing, she hadn’t fallen asleep until after 1:00 A.M., but when choosing an apartment, she hadn’t had many alternatives. Her only other viable choice would have been moving into her mother’s house, and even the noisy bar was preferable to that. If she could get used to the constant honking of car horns and police sirens in New York City, she could readjust and learn to sleep over the sounds of Joe’s Bar.
    After a quick shower, she looked into her closet so she could decide what to wear for the day and found herself surrounded by silk blouses and camisoles, designer-emblazoned jeans, shorts, and skirts, along with high-heeled shoes, most with the telltale red bottoms of Christian Louboutin. She had enough of those expensive babies to make Carrie Bradshaw proud.
    But not Faith Harrington.
    Not anymore.
    She’d grown up with wealthy parents and she hadn’t wanted for anything from basic necessities to frivolous things she just plain desired. Back in high school she’d dressed like a typical teen, wanting to fit in with her friends. In college, she’d begun to carve out her own style, finding her likes and dislikes. Then she’d met Carter. He’d been a dominating presence and she’d let him lead her, succumbing to his not-so-subtle suggestions on how she should dress and behave as the wife of a powerhouse New York City attorney. She’d been drawn back into dressing to please others. Of course it helped that she’d had her father’s beaming approval as well. And since her college friends had either gone on to graduate school or work, something Carter insisted she didn’t need to do, she’d lost touch with people her own age she liked and really enjoyed.
    It wasn’t until after her divorce, when she’d had to decide what to do with