"Bibi, what are you doing? You have flour all over your face," Logan said as Bibi got closer. "I was cooking something for Liam," she said, waving the rolling pin in her hand.
"Right," Logan said, nodding his head. Bibi came closer and sniffed him. "Master Logan, did you bathe in alcohol? You stink. Go and clean up." Bibi pushed Logan towards the house entrance.
"I didn't bathe in it, Bibi, but a maniac woman suddenly thought it would be fun to spray me with the alcohol she was about to ingest."
"Serves you right, Master Logan, for always changing your woman like you change your clothes." "She's not my woman, Bibi," Logan retorted.
"I'm sure you'll be chasing her up until she becomes your woman. Am I right, Master Logan?" Bibi teased. "Argh, all right, all right, enough with the master," Logan said, wanting to shake his stepmother.
She had been his mother for over six years now, and not once did she ever call him her son, always referring to him as Master. Maybe she was scared he might be like one of those kids who would resent her for marrying his father.
Well, at first he did resent her for coming into his father's life, stealing away all his attention, but after seeing how Bibi had lightened his father's life, he'd given in.
"If you want me to stop calling you master, then go get changed. Your odor is not so becoming here," Bibi said, pushing Logan even farther up the stairs after they all made it inside the grand foyer. "All right, all right, enough, woman, enough."
Logan laughed, then made his way to his suite. "I'll get back at you for this, Bibi." Logan smiled, watching his stepmother wind her little hands around his father's waist in a loving way, leading his old man to the main lounge.
He shook his head, then went inside his room to wash away the stench that was starting to corrode his nostrils.
Life for me right now is beautiful, he thought as he stepped into the glory of the hot jet of water spraying from the showerhead. Good food, good life, and not a worry in the world. He had enough money to last him a lifetime, without having to work.
What more could he ask for? He was blessed to have this gifted life, and he appreciated every bit of it.
Once clean and donning new clothes—Armani suit and a black silk tie—gelling back his silver hair, he surveyed himself in the tall closet mirror, identical to the one in his apartment in Central Auckland.
Logan was dressed to impress, a sweeping image from head to toe. All the girls at the company would swoon at the sheer sight of him.
He was completely sure even old Mrs. Crood, the moody cafeteria lady, would compliment him. He was ready to face the death-inducing boredom of the merger meeting at Bloembergen Enterprises.