this role to turn into this. I never expected Ward Maddox to be so nasty. For weeks I’ve been picking things up after him, keeping his study clean, tidying up the TV room, cooking for him.
It’s your job. You’re getting good money for this.
I’m not sure it’s worth it. I dry myself, and stare at my expression in the mirror.
I look miserable.
He reduced me to a wreck and I’m so not that woman.
I’m independent and strong, and yet I muzzle my voice in order not to upset him.
I so don’t want to be here.
I want to leave.
I would leave.
But I’m trapped.
A few months. That’s what Rob said. Ward will be finished with his writing in a few months’ time. And then I’ll be free.
I can do this, I tell myself.
I have to do this because I have no alternative.
WARD
She said I was a nightmare to work for. I have a feeling she wanted to say much more but she’s scared I might fire her like I did Trevor. He didn’t say anything to my face. He said it behind my back.
She hates me, and she’s right.
I am a nightmare to work for.
This is all Rob’s fault.
I can be a jerk. I’ve spent too much time alone by myself, in my own fictional worlds and places of horror and fear. I’m more used to being there than in the real world. It’s how I survived being locked up in the attic by the man my mother married. It’s how I dealt with her sudden change, her switch in love and loyalty. How I dealt with things when my once doting and loving mom fell completely under this man’s spell and forgot all about me.
Mari is right. I am a nightmare, because most of my childhood was a nightmare.
Guilt punches my gut at what just happened. I could have handled it better. I saw the fear in her eyes. I did that to her. Me.
I know what it is to fear others, but Mari shouldn’t need to fear me.
Annoyed and irritated, I get up and look around for her but she’s not in the kitchen, or in any of the rooms nearby. I call out her name, but she doesn’t answer.
“Mari!” Still, no answer.
I take a moment to consider my options, before going upstairs. I should forget this fiasco and get back to my writing. That’s my main priority and this—what I’m about to do now—isn’t. It’s also not easy for someone like me. Facing up, confronting, saying I’m sorry.
But I need to apologize. I was wrong. I got angry. Frustrated, more like. Bottled up feelings. I’ve never had to deal with this situation before, with people living with me. Even former girlfriends didn’t.
I walk towards her bedroom and find her door slightly ajar. A closet slams shut.
“Mari,” I hover outside, but she doesn’t answer. She’s probably packing her bags to leave.
I push the door open and look inside. She’s disappeared. The room is clean and tidy as I would expect. A clean blouse is laid out on the bed.
“Mari.” My voice is so low, she’s probably not heard it. The bathroom door opens and she walks out, in her bra and skirt, then screams at the sight of me.
I can’t help it, but my gaze dips lower. Her full, buxom breasts are pushed up high in a black, lacy bra.
Hot damn.
She’s wearing that under her work clothes? I’ll never be able to erase that image from my mind. I suck in a breath, my cock hardening.
I look away. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to scare—”
“What are you doing here?” If looks could kill, I’d be lying dead on the floor right now. Venom shoots from her expression. I expect her to cover herself with her hands, or something, but she doesn’t. To my surprise, she stands there before sliding her hands to her hips, as if she’s proud of her body, and on display.
I’m tempted to grab the blouse on the bed and hand it to her, I’m nearer to it than she is, but I wait for her to do it. The fact that she doesn’t, piques my curiosity. My manhood throbs.
“I—I …” I can’t form words. I can’t think. Every useful cell in my body has congregated to the space between my legs.
“You what?” she asks calmly. The power has switched. There is no trace of the frightened woman from the study. She stands before me in her skirt and bra as if she’s on a photoshoot. A