Page 19 of Love Marks

“What?” I bark.

“Can I come in?”

I don’t want to see her. Why is she knocking on my door? What can she possibly need from me?

“Fine.”

She pushes open the door tentatively and steps in with a small smile in my direction. She’s still sopping wet, her hair clinging to her forehead and her shirt more than a little see-through. I force my eyes downward, ignoring the outline of her dark bra.

“Hi, sorry. Me again. Your…maid. Right. Just wondering if you wanted me to do laundry today. Or if there’s anything else you needed. I’m heading down to meet with Sharon, but if you wanted me to do your laundry, I could do it now, or come back later. Also, I guess I’m going to cook dinner for you tonight? So, I was wondering what you like and if you’re allergic—”

Jesus, does this woman ever stop talking?

“I don’t need anything from you.”

The words sound harsh even to my ears and her smile falters. For a second, she looks as though she might cry. My stomach drops at the thought, and I have the sudden urge to reach out and comfort her.

Get a grip.

“Have I done something to offend you?” Her voice is shaky and betrays her nervousness.

I tilt my head, studying her. “I don’t know, have you?”

It’s her last chance. Third strike, you’re out. I meet her gaze head-on.

“I’ll just…come back later.” She shuffles backwards out of the room before I can say anything, slamming the door behind her.

Three chances. I gave her three chances to come clean to me. I don’t know what games she’s playing, but whatever it is, I’m all in.

Game on, Quinn Taylor.

Chapter 10

Quinn

I cannot believe my luck. God must be punishing me for something. I must have been a serial killer in a past life. There’s no other explanation for why I am currently Wesley Marks’ personal lackey.

I bet he designed these skimpy maid uniforms himself. Sicko.

I can't stop thinking about the way he looked at me when I walked into his office. Like I was the gum on the bottom of his shoe. I was just trying to help! Sharon’s note said I was supposed to ask him about stuff. The situation is clearly awkward, and I was simply trying to be polite. Something he obviously knows nothing about.

Whatever. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about anything. Good. The last thing I want to do now is speak to him again.

When I get down to the lobby, Sharon is waiting for me and gives me the lowdown on everything I need to know. She also provides me with a list of groceries and Wesley’s dietary restrictions and other specifics. I don’t know why the hell she told me to ask him when she clearly has it all figured out. Why doesn’t she just do the job? I want to ask her why I was assigned to the penthouse, but I hold my tongue.

“Most importantly, Mr. Marks values his privacy above all. Don’t bother him unless absolutely necessary.”

Okay, so admittedly the knocking-on-his-office-door thing may have been a mistake. Maybe that’s why he seemed so pissed off at me — the other staff usually don’t bother him. Don't bother him. Got it.

“You can start with the laundry today. We’ll check in tomorrow morning if you have any other questions.”

I manage to avoid Wesley completely when I get back to the suite. I can hear him on the phone in his office, so I work quickly, stripping all the beds and grabbing dirty towels from the floor. While the laundry is running, I look through the papers and study Wesley’s preferences. One note catches my eye.

Please continue leaving chocolates on the pillow.

Mr. Cold Shoulder has a sweet tooth. Good to know. Maybe that’s the way I can get him to like me — I’ll bake my signature brownies or some banana bread. By the time I finish with the laundry and other cleaning, I’m starting to feel dead on my feet from the long day, but I still haven’t made dinner. I think Wesley is still in his office, but I can’t be sure. I thought I heard him on the phone again while I was folding laundry but then I put my headphones in. It felt weird eavesdropping on his conversation.

I go into the kitchen, swaying to my music. Looking through the fridge, I decide to make enchiladas since he has all the ingredients. I crush up some peppers and jalapeños, hoping he’s not averse to spicy foods. There was nothing in his notes about it.