Emanuel’s P.O.V.
“You are not human, but I am, Eman. I love work-free weekends, and above all, I love my sleep on weekends.” Nicholas yelled at me, throwing a cushion, looking grumpy, glaring at me so hard as if I had stolen his inheritance.
“Get ready, we will leave in half an hour,” I instructed him coldly, completely ignoring his complaints.
“What? I am still in my dreams,” he whined again, yelling so loudly that he wanted to burst my eardrums.
I went to the kitchen and his butler, Benjamin, a tall man in his early forties, bowed a little in front of me.
“What do we have today for lunch, Benjamin?” I asked him, thrusting my hands inside my pockets.
“What would you like to eat, Mr. Jackson?” he asked me politely.
“Something French?” I replied and he nodded in reply.
“Please wait
