The CEO's Problematic Housekeeper Chapter 2

She held the finger, the wound now invisible, practically under Matthew’s nose.

Matthew put down his documents, examined her finger for a long moment, and then sighed in relief. “It’s fine, the cut is tiny. Have Miss Quinn get you a bandage.”

“A bandage?” Vivian’s voice shot up an octave, dripping with disbelief. “Matthew! Don’t you love me anymore?”

As Matthew and I exchanged bewildered looks, she pointed a finger at me.

“How could you just dismiss me with a bandage? Your woman has been injured, and the culprit is this butler!”

“As a domineering CEO, aren’t you supposed to make her immediately draw 800cc of her blood as an apology to prove her loyalty and my importance?!”

I took a deep breath, keeping my expression placid while my mind reeled.

Eight hundred cubic centimeters? For a paper cut? Do you want me to check into the ICU to entertain you? And I’m the culprit? You’re the one who insisted on touching the roses!

Matthew’s brow finally furrowed. He let go of Vivian’s hand, his tone laced with clear disapproval. “Vivian, first, Charlotte is a butler, not a mobile blood bank. Second, your blood types don’t even match.”

He pointed at the nearly invisible mark. “And third, if you’d waited any longer, it would have healed on its own. What would you do with her blood? Water the flowers with it?”

Vivian’s face flushed red and white in turns. She stomped her foot. “You! You’re not following the script! You’re not acting like a domineering CEO at all!”

She then shot me a venomous look.

Matthew rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m just a normal businessman. Quinn, get the first-aid kit. And while you’re at it, please brief Miss Shaw on basic medical facts and the Blood Donation Act.”

“Yes, Mr. Cooper.”

I fought to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up as I gracefully excused myself.

After that, similar dramas played out almost daily.

Vivian would throw a tantrum because the slippers I prepared for her weren’t made of crystal.

Rational Matthew would say: “Crystal slippers are uncomfortable. These are silk-embroidered. They’re much better.”

She would demand that Matthew order a city-wide blackout just to create a romantic atmosphere for stargazing.

Rational Matthew would say: “The municipal power grid doesn’t belong to me. That would cause mass panic, economic loss, and is highly illegal.”

Naturally, I wasn’t spared either.

When I handed her a towel, she would intentionally let it drop to the floor, expecting me to kneel and pick it up. I would simply ignore it and signal to Mrs. Davis, our head maid, who would expressionlessly pick it up and toss it in the laundry hamper.

Her most frequent question to me was: “Miss Quinn, why don’t you tell me, ‘Miss Shaw, you’re the first woman Mr. Cooper has ever brought home’?”

“Are you jealous of me? Jealous that I have Matthew’s affection while you’re just a pathetic servant who has to work all day and then ‘service’ him at night?”

Every time I heard this, I had to resist the urge to retort.

Miss, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about Mr. Cooper? This year alone, including you, I’ve already welcomed four ‘first women’ he’s ever brought home. The guest room on the left housed a Miss Lee, the one on the right a Miss Wang, and the master bedroom… well, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve changed the sheets.

Mr. Cooper’s reputation as a playboy was well-earned. His interest rarely lasted longer than three months. The value of being his “first” was, frankly, not very high.

As for “servicing him at night”? Please. My overtime rates are exorbitant, and strictly for professional matters.

On the surface, however, I maintained my standard butler’s smile. “Miss Shaw, Mr. Cooper’s private affairs are not my concern. My duty is to ensure your comfort during your stay.”

She was never satisfied with my answers, convinced I was harboring ill intentions, ready to enact the role of the “vicious, scheming rival who torments the innocent heroine.”

Initially, Matthew found her antics novel and amusing, even playing along with her “domineering CEO falls for me” fantasy for a couple of days. But his patience quickly wore thin. He was a successful businessman; time was money. He had little tolerance for trouble and baseless tantrums.

Many of Vivian’s actions were beginning to cross his “trouble” threshold. He started spending more time in his study or using business dinners as an excuse to come home late.

Vivian seemed to sense his growing distance, but she predictably blamed it all on me.