The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,14
to do here.”
I open my mouth, then close it quickly before I say something else I will regret. He’s so rude. I wish I hadn’t bothered making a detour into town to get him those donuts. He’s so unappreciative and nasty.
A tightness forms in my gut as I follow him out of the TV room and into the entrance hall where I should have left my suitcase instead of dragging it around with me everywhere.
I miss Jamie.
He’s a real gentleman.
This man is not.
He shows me the other rooms: the place where all the cleaning supplies are kept, and the pantry, the kitchen. He tells me that he will leave me his credit card on the kitchen island and that I can buy what I need and order groceries, and if I prefer to go out, to look online and find out what shops are nearby. Then he shows me the library before opening another door.
“This is my study.” He opens the door quickly, and lets me step inside. “I need it polished and clean. Every surface. My desk,” he turns and walks over to it, “has to be neat and tidy.” I walk over. “You mustn’t mess up the order of things.” He lines up the papers and pencils and pens again, even though they were already neat. “And you mustn’t read anything.” He pins me with a ferocious stare that makes me stop breathing. He’s expecting an answer, I realize.
“I won’t,” I say quickly. “I won’t read a thing.”
“I want everything back in its place.”
I nod.
“My pens and pencils. My MontBlanc. This is my lucky pen.” He picks it up and examines it before setting it back down again.
Weird.
“You can open the windows to let in some air while you clean, but I want the room left exactly as you found it.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t know anything about you. Rob hired you and took care of all that, but let me be very clear. You are not to read anything I have written.”
“You’ve already mentioned that.”
“I’m telling you again.”
I have to force myself not to roll my eyes. “Again, I understood.”
He ushers me out, before closing the door. Then he marches up the stairs and I stand at the bottom, watching him with simmering resentment. Not once did this man offer to take my suitcase from me. Not once did he offer to assist me.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks, turning around when he’s a few steps up. There is tension is his voice. Always. It’s like he’s permanently annoyed, and bitter. He’s made it perfectly clear that my presence here is unwanted, but I need this job.
I can’t afford for him to get rid of me on a whim, and with Rob gone, it wouldn’t surprise me if this guy tries to look for any opportunity to get rid of me.
How wrong I was. How disappointed Jamie will be when I tell him what this guy is really like. I assumed he would be nice because he was famous and successful, but I was so, so wrong.
“Uh …” Telling the truth isn’t going to help me. “I was admiring the staircase. It’s … it’s beautiful, the way it curves around the —”
“Hurry up,” he snaps, marching on ahead. “I don’t have all day.” I grab my suitcase and bound up the stairs, catching up with him in no time. “I did say you could tell me where my room was and I would find it. I know you have work deadlines and a book to fin—”
“Stop,” he growls. “I can’t take your constant whimpering.”
I have the sudden urge to tell him to shove his job up his huge butt, but I am trapped by my circumstances. My mom depends on me. I’m doing this for her.
And I don’t have a better option.
“I’m sorry. I won’t talk if it upsets you that mu—”
He turns to me at the top of the stairs. “There you go again.” He does a zipping motion with his fingers against his lips. “I can’t think when you’re constantly yapping.”
“But you’re not writing now,” I protest, noticing his ugly satin robe again. It looks ridiculous and makes him look much older than he is.
“I’m always thinking,” he mutters, pointing his finger to his head. “I’m always thinking of the story. Your voice is like the sound of nails scratching a blackboard.”
That’s an overdramatic exaggeration. I hate him. I hate him more than I believed was possible. I zip my lips together and resolve not to say