Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“You’d be better off cleaning at a hotel than this shithole. Look, we’ll sort this out later, but for now I—”
“Mr. White. Dude, I can’t believe you’re here,” cries someone downstairs.
“Ah hell. Too late.” The old man showed up, and now it’s going to be impossible to get rid of him. My brothers in the house are going to fawn over him like he’s the second coming of Christ, and he’s going to eat it up because he’s a megalomaniac who lives off the adoration of others.
I give the girl a rueful look. “Be careful around here, okay? I’m not around much, but if you need a place to hide, I’m the last room at the end of the hall. My code’s 1759.”
I force myself not to stare at her because she probably gets enough of that. I’m at the top stair when I hear a soft voice say, “Thanks.”
Downstairs, I hear more guys rushing to the front. More people asking for my dad’s autograph. More people gushing over how great an actor he is, how they loved his last movie, which has to be a lie because he hasn’t had a hit in at least a decade, and the last movie was this wasteful navel-gazing mess where he played an old man who all the teen girls in the neighborhood desperately wanted to fuck.
I turn abruptly, grab the girl’s hand, and stride toward my room. There’s no reason for me to see my old man. He wants me to join the throng of adulating fans, and I hate his guts. Might as well chill in my room with this gorgeous girl.
“What are you doing?” she says, not really protesting.
“Like I said, you’re with me now.”
CHAPTER 2
AUTUMN
I’m with him? What does that even mean? Still, curiosity has piqued my interest as he enters the code to his room. This is the only room I don’t clean because of the lock on it. He pulls me inside with him, shutting the door behind us.
I swallow, realizing I’ve let a man lead me into his room after I barely escaped another’s. Would someone save you only to harm you? Probably. I should know better. I escaped one horrible foster home growing up, thinking I was going somewhere better. But I’d been sadly mistaken and was put into another equally as bad, if not worse. I take a deep breath and push those terrible memories to the back of my mind.
“I should probably—”
“You want something to drink?” The handsome stranger cuts me off by pulling me deeper into his room.
It’s bigger than the others in the frat house. I’d say it’s at least twice the size of the ones I clean. An open door even leads into a private bathroom. I glance around the room. A bed sits on one side with nightstands on each side of it. He’s even got a sofa and desk in here.
“I’m not thirsty,” I lie. He leads me over to the sofa before letting my hand go to walk over to the fridge and grab a couple of bottles of water and a can of soda. He brings them back, setting them on the coffee table before he drops down on the sofa.
“You can sit.”
“I need to finish cleaning.” I was almost done before that jerk Rob grabbed me. I’ve had a few of the men say offhanded gross comments to me before, which I ignored. This is the first time one has actually grabbed me. I’m starting to see why this job was open. I’d been on a waitlist with the university for a job opening. It’s easier to work on campus when you don’t have a car. The pay is not the greatest, but it’s better than nothing.
“You’re not cleaning Rob’s room ever again.” He grabs my hand and pulls me down on the sofa. “You want the Coke or the water?”
“Water.” He grabs the bottle, twisting the top off before handing it over to me.
“Thanks.” I take it from his hand and chug half of it down.
“How long have you been cleaning here?”
“I’ve only cleaned a few times now.” From what I’ve seen, his room is spotless. “Who cleans your room?”
“Me.”
“Really?” I peek over at him. The sneakers on his feet are designer and cost more than I could make in a week if I cleaned full-time. As a matter of fact, his entire room reeks of him coming from money. Not in a bad way or anything.
“I don’t want people in my space.”
“I’m here.” I point out the obvious.
“You’re not people.” I furrow my eyebrows, unsure of what the heck he means by that. I should probably ask him, but I don’t see the point in it.
“I really need to get back to work,” I say again.
“What do you have left to do?”
“Why, are you going to help me?” I laugh. “Or come be my bodyguard?”