Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 85443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I was moving out into the hallway when I heard the click of heels on the floor, accompanied by the slap of bare feet and I slunk back into the kitchen, shamelessly eavesdropping.
"Come on, Byron. Don't be such a dick," the woman said and I saluted her with my sandwich. She was right there; he was a dick alright.
"One and done, Lyla," was Byron's typical douchbaggy response.
One and done?
Seriously... who said that to a woman?
Even if it was true.
Well, I guess you had to respect a man who was upfront about being an asshole and didn't do the 'I'll call' thing that you knew he didn't mean but waited for your cell to ring anyway.
"It was good," Lyla insisted,pathetic pleading clear in her tone.
"Not denying that."
"And you still don't want a repeat..."
"I think I've made myself clear. Have a nice night, Lyla," he said and I heard the door swing open. I shoved the last of my sandwich in my mouth, chewing as I listened to Lyla's heels drift off into the night and the door close and lock. "You can come out now, Miss. Marlow," his voice called, making my heart fly up into my throat, making the food I was swallowing feel chalky and gross as it slid down. I raised my water and took a swig, forcing myself to move out into the hallway. I'd be damned if I let him think I was too chickenshit to face him just because I was eavesdropping.
As soon as I rounded the corner into the foyer, I saw him standing on the bottom stair, arm on the railing, obviously waiting for me to emerge. When I did, his gaze dipped, doing a slow inspection from my bare feet and all the way up to my head where I had piled my hair in a messy top-knot. His lips actually twitched for a second before they settled into their typical straight line as his eyes pinned mine. "Seriously? That's what you wear?"
I felt the immediate urge to shrink away, to drop my shoulders, to somehow feel ashamed of myself. But I pushed that away and put my chin up. "I have no one to impress," I said pointedly, eyes daring him to say otherwise, to remind me that I was told that I was supposed to wear my uniform under my clothes even when off-duty, to, well, be the jackass I expected.
But all I got was a shrug. "Fair enough. You'll be in my room at seven a.m., Miss. Marlow," he said, turning and moving up the stairs.
I took a deep breath then followed up the stairs, making sure to keep more than half the staircase then half the hall between us at all times. I locked my door and set the alarm on the dresser before climbing into bed.
I fell asleep wondering what the hell the next day would have in store for me.
FOUR
Prue
The alarm startled me awake, making me shoot up in the unfamiliar bed in the unfamiliar room and it took my sleep-sated brain a long minute to realize where I was and what had woken me up. Alert, I scrambled off the bed and ran across the room to hit the snooze button before turning the alarm off. I stood there for a long minute, hand over my heart as I tried to settle my frazzled nerves.
"Great way to start a shitty day," I told my reflection in the mirror over the dresser, taking in the pillow marks on my cheek and the sleep in my eyes. "Alright, you can do this," I told myself, going to the closet to grab another 'uniform' out of the box and heading into the bathroom for a quick shower. I climbed into my clothes, making sure I tucked in my shirt, raked a brush through my hair, and decided that was just going to have to do as I didn't have a blow dryer and I didn't have the time to let it air dry.
At five to seven, I walked into the hall and knocked on Byron's bedroom door, listening for a response. Hearing none, I paused, uncertain what the protocol was. I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to just go into his room without permission, but he had said the night before that I was to be in his room at seven in the morning. With a shrug, I pulled the door open and stepped inside.
"Mr. St. James?" I called as I walked in, taking in the mussed-up sheets.
"In here," he called from the bathroom and I followed, rolling my eyes, wondering what menial task he had planned for me. Cutting his toenails perhaps? I stopped dead inside the door though, my entire body going ramrod straight.
Shit.
Okay.
There was no way he meant for me to follow him into the bathroom.