We entered the main bedroom, and the space looked very different from the dark corporate suite back in the city. The walls were painted white, and a light linen blanket covered the large bed. Large glass windows offered a clear view of the blue ocean, and the cool sea breeze drifted through the open wooden shutters.
Mason set the luggage near the heavy wooden wardrobe. "The local caretaker stocked the kitchen for us this morning," he explained while he unzipped his bag. "We do not have a private chef here, and we do not have any household staff. We will have to cook our own meals and manage our own schedule."
I smiled at the idea of a billionaire executive cooking his own dinner. "Do you actually know how to cook, Mason?"
"I know how to follow basic instructions," he answered with a soft laugh. "But I might need your help to avoid burning the kitchen down, because I usually rely on Henry to feed me."
