Page 54 of His Dark Pact
She spun at the sound of his voice, narrowly avoiding knocking the no-doubt expensive lamp from the side table.
“You’re a lot more than only a middle-aged cleaner, little girl.” The stern expression on his face sent her pulse flying.
“Mr. Kyle.” She sensed her face reddening as he leaned casually against the door, his arms folded. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough.” He cocked an eyebrow as though she should have known better, and somewhere in the pit of her stomach, dread began to knot. “You’re unhappy with your new responsibilities?”
“Not unhappy, sir.” Shit. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her or the way his interruption seemed to have clouded her thoughts in an instant. “Just surprised.”
“Your words suggest disillusionment rather than surprise.” His hands lowered to his pockets, his stare continuing to drill into her.
“No, I...” She faltered, unsure how to smooth over the rather large hole she’d inadvertently managed to dig. Perhaps she should have better communicated her feelings to him about the new ‘role’ at breakfast, but she hadn’t intended for him to overhear her whining self-mutterings.
I hope he doesn’t think less of me as either his employee or... something more.
Something more?She admonished herself mentally as he waited for her explanation.As if he’d be interested in that. The sex was good. That’s all. There was no promise of anything more.
“I’m sorry.” Her lowering gaze was a painful reminder of her skimpy attire. “I didn’t mean for you to hear the things I said, sir.”
“Evidently.” Straightening, he walked nonchalantly in her direction.
“Have I upset you?” she definitely didn’t like his clenching jaw or the determined look that seemed to have set into his dark blue eyes.
He came to stand beside her, gazing out at the same picturesque view she’d enjoyed.
“Do you like my house, Amy?”
“Yes, sir.” How could he even ask? “It’s beautiful.”
“And you are happy to clean for me... for now, at least.” His focus fell to her, those plunging pools of his eyes daring her to defy him.
“Yes.” She wouldn’t exactly say she was happy, but she didn’t want to risk the potential rewards of working for Kyle over something as silly as him overhearing her complaints.
“Hmmm.” He turned back to the vast bay window, and it was a moment until he spoke again, time when all Amy could do was grip the end of the feather duster and silently curse her mistake.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He said he’d be along to join me. I should have kept my mouth closed.
“Please.” In the end, she broke the edgy hush, anxious to limit whatever damage she’d caused. “I’ll do an excellent job for you, and I won’t complain again.”
“You won’t.”
It sounded less like a question than she was comfortable with, but given how much she suddenly felt on the back foot, she responded anyway.
“I won’t, sir.”
“Good.” He nodded. “But it seems perhaps you’ll need supervision.” His tempting eyebrow arched again. “I had thought I could get on with other tasks, but... it’s better, I think that I stay while you adjust.”
“Okay.” She didn’t know how to feel about that. “Whatever you say, sir.”
Amy wasn’t averse to Kyle’s scrutiny, having experienced it intensely the prior night, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was another meaning to what he was saying—something he wasn’t yet sharing with her.
With Kyle, there always seemed to be a bombshell.
“Best you get on then.” He gestured to the opposite side of the room. “There’s a dresser of family antiques there, all of which need to be properly dusted. Is there anything else you’ll need to help you manage?”
She looked down at the box of equipment she’d already been given, noting the cloth and can of polish. “No, sir. I can manage.”
“Go on then.” He sighed theatrically and walked the short distance to one of the high-backed chairs. “I’ll be right here, watching.”