Page 32 of His Dark Pact
She should have told him to bugger off, should have reminded him that was not what she’d been employed to do, but she didn’t. Instead, she recollected why she was there—she was desperate for the money, and Kyle was an easy opportunity to gain more of it than she’d ever imagined. She knew that she was willing to play maid for a few days, even if that wasn’t how he’d described the role to her, if that was what it would take to get the cash.
“And will I be joining you for dinner, sir?” A part of her was afraid to ask, but she probed, regardless, knowing she’d rather understand his expectations and not risk letting him down and losing the fifty thousand.
“You will join me,” he confirmed. “Once you’ve served me.”
Service.
He made it sound like it was the nineteenth century, but begrudgingly, she accepted his terms.
“Fine.” She hooked the outfit on the back of her door. “Anything else, sir?”
“Only these.” He lowered to the floor and presented her with a medium-sized box. “Shoes to compliment your outfit. I hope I guessed your size correctly.”
“Right.” She clutched the box he thrust her way. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you at dinner.” He gestured behind her to her room. “Apologies for the intrusion.”
***
PLACING THE BOX ONthe floor, she unsealed the bag as soon as she’d closed the door, her heart beating excitedly as she tugged the contents from the plastic covering. Amy had no idea what Kyle had chosen for her to wear, but for some ridiculous reason, the mere idea that he’d chosensomethingenthralled her.
He’d taken the time and the money to not only think about her but how he wanted her to look. The idea didn’t spurn her the way his criticism of her outfit had that morning. This action was based in thought rather than only judgment, and rather than rebuking her, he’d actually ordered her something new.
He bought me gifts!
Her brow rose at the intriguing notion. He’d taken it upon himself to choose something for her, which meant he was organized and capable. Apparently, he wasn’t as reliant on a housekeeper’s administrative skills as he’d allowed her to think when she took the position.
Lifting the outfit from the plastic, she held it aloft in front of the dim light spilling through the window, her gaze falling over the enclosed material.
“What the hell?”
For one protracted second, she swore she stopped breathing altogether. The outfit he’d brought her appeared to be an old-fashioned French maid’s ensemble, its black corset top and short skirt interspersed only by the white lace that ran around the plunging neckline and the miniature apron at the front.
“I’m not wearing this!” Anger pulsed within her as she stalked to the door with the attire still in her grasp.
Who did he think he was?
Yes, he’d helped her out at the store, taken her for a glorious meal, listened to her problems, and offered her a role with a preposterously high salary, but that didn’t mean she’d signed up to this—whateverthiswas.
She was going to march down the stairs, find Kyle, and tell him in no uncertain terms why she wouldn’t be indulging his sick ‘maid’ fantasy!
Fantasy?
She stilled at the word, pausing before her hand reached for the door handle. Was that what the flimsy clothing represented to him?
Did he see her as his fantasy?
The answer shouldn’t have made any difference. She should have stalked down there and conveyed her outrage, yet she was ashamed to say that as she leaned against the door, his answer mattered to her.
Had she imagined playing naughty maid to Kyle since she’d accepted his job offer? No, she hadn’t, but she’d be lying to herself if she tried to deny the numerous times she had considered being bedded by her masterful new employer. The truth was she liked his suave demeanor and the way he always seemed to have control. Perhaps the sexy maid’s outfit was his fucked-up way of conveying his desire for her? Maybe he was too afraid to tell her how he felt.
“Kyle isn’t usually the fearful type,” she whispered as she flung the outfit onto her bed.
But the indecent suggestion that she serve him his food while dressed as a naughty maid might go some way to explain the way he’d wanted to touch her, the way he’d complimented her numerous times, and why, even when he’d been critical, he always seemed to worm his way back into her affections.
“Oh God.” She settled on the bed beside the plastic-covered black dress and sighed. “What am I going to do?”
A salacious part of her wanted to try the outfit on. Maybe the hem wasn’t as short as it looked, or even if it was, perhaps the naughtiness of it would inspire her to play his twisted little game.