Page 53 of His Dark Pact
Chapter Seventeen
Day Two
––––––––
STARING OUT AT THEimpressive, landscaped driveway beyond the window, Amy didn’t know what to think. Breakfast had passed in a peculiar blur. Leonard’s food had been delectable. The chef might be creepy and unnerving, but his eggs were easily the best she’d ever tasted.
It was the corresponding list of new duties Kyle had presented her with, though, that had left her head spinning. Not only did he want her to follow up on the tasks from the prior day, but as if he’d been able to read her mind from the shower that morning, he’d added a whole raft of cleaning chores to her agenda. Watching two tiny birds singing on the well-established oak tree on the grounds, she recalled her response.
––––––––
“BUT,” SHE COUNTERED, as he’d taken her through his list one item at a time. “Cleaning a house this size is an entire job in its own right, sir. You hired me to be a housekeeper, not a cleaner.”
“I just lost my cleaner.” His smile looked well-practiced, as if he rehearsed it in the mirror. “And I was hoping you could help me until I found someone new.”
“Yes, I can help...”
“And didn’t you tell me you worked as a cleaner?” he added with an expression caught somewhere between a smile and a smirk.
She didn’t recall telling him that, but then, she supposed she could have divulged it with her backstory at the restaurant. That night was hazy in her memory.
“I don’t mind cleaning,” she’d insisted. “It’s just not what I was expecting when I signed...”
“I thought we’d established that clause seven—”
“Yes, sir,” she interrupted, not needing the clause seven lecture all over again. “I understand clause seven.” Hell, he’d used it to tremendous effect during dinner the night before. “I just wouldn’t know where to start with a property of this size.”
It transpired she’d needn’t have worried. Kyle had all the details worked out for her. She was to start in the drawing room—an immense space on the other side of the house that looked like something from a 1930s murder mystery scene—dusting the litany of shelves, mantles, and tables and then he would join her with information about the next task. That was where she found herself, dressed as his naughty maid and bewildered about how fate had unraveled in such an unexpected way.
“Fabulous.” She ran the feather duster lightly over the old-fashioned table lamp by the window. It didn’t move much dust, but she wasn’t surprised at its inefficiency. It was safe to say Amy wasn’t really putting her heart into the work. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I took his offer.”
It wasn’t as though she had a problem with cleaning, but Kyle had described the post as a housekeeping role. She hadn’t come there to clean his humongous fucking mansion—especially dressed like a stripper. That hadn’t been the deal.
“But here I am.” Her brow rose as she turned to skim the duster over the windowsill. “Just a middle-aged cleaner in a kinky maid’s outfit.”
She couldn’t decide if she felt dirty or buoyed by the conclusion. She wasn’t qualified for much other than administration and cleaning, and none of her other jobs had promised the type of salary and benefits that Kyle’s did, but she couldn’t fight the nagging sense that she was only being exploited.
“What the hell am I thinking?” The feather duster paused as she berated herself. “I must be a complete idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.”