Chapter Nine

Day One

––––––––

P ALE LIGHT STIRRED Amy from her comfortable sleep, and as her eyes fluttered open, the events of the night before unraveled rapidly in her mind.

Worthington’s.

Kyle.

The contract.

She’d been facing imminent homelessness and despair, but lying in one of the many spare rooms owned by Kyle, she now had a home and a job—for the next seven days, at least.

“I’d better get in touch with my old bosses.” She reached for the nightstand and collected her phone. “Looks like I’m going to need the week off from both my jobs.”

She fired off the messages, telling both guys that she’d take the time as unpaid leave. Once she had fifty grand in her back pocket, she could pay off the most incessant debts and still have enough money to tide her over for a few months. That was more money than she made in years! Her heart fluttered at the thought. Kyle’s money was going to change her life, and even if things didn’t work out with his role and the legal firm let her go, she could still return to her cleaning job.

Buoyed by the reassurance, she sat up and swung her feet to the long-pile carpet below, allowing her toes to nestle into the deep fibers.

Heaven.

She’d never been able to afford carpets like that in her life. Even when Graham had been alive, they’d have struggled to cover the costs. It was lovely to relish such luxury without worrying about the price tag. The moment of bliss reverberated through her, commanding her lips to tug upward.

Lazily, her attention darted from her watch to the large window. Rising to open the curtains, it took a few minutes for the digits on her screen to register.

11:40.

It was almost noon already.

The morning had passed in a coma of exhaustion, but then that was to be expected when neither she nor Kyle had gone to bed until dawn. Once she’d signed both her copy of the contract and the second one he’d kept for himself, Kyle had insisted on taking her on a brief house tour while Stevens brought her possessions to the room she’d call home for at least the next six and a half days.

The problem with a tour of a place as big as Kyle’s, though, was it could never be ‘brief’—the property spanned three levels and numerous reception rooms. She’d lost count of the rows of bedroom doors, and by the time she had a vague layout of the place in her head, she was ready to collapse.

11:42

Her eyes settled on her watch again, aware of the niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why was she conscious of the time? What was so important about it?

Kyle had agreed she should rest and that her normal eight o’clock duties would begin the following day, so why couldn’t she shake the sense that something was wrong?

The digits of her watch changed to 11:44 as the answer crashed down on her. In a split second, his instructions echoed in her mind—he’d told her to meet him in his study at midday!

“Shit!” She rushed to the mirror and blinked at the disheveled woman staring back at her. She had to make herself look presentable and get downstairs in only a few minutes.

Finding her duffel bags, she rifled through the contents for something appropriate to wear. But what was appropriate when she was working for a man like Kyle? She wanted to look smart and attractive, but based on how few choices she had, she realized she’d have to take what she could get.

“Why didn’t I unpack yesterday?” she complained, tugging out a blouse that looked like it had been dragged through a hedge. She’d definitely have to find an iron if the blouse would ever make the grade.

The reality of the prior night hadn’t lent itself to great organization. Kyle had walked her back to her room and said goodnight. Exhausted from the stress of the day and the emotion of the evening, sleep had claimed her as soon as her head hit the pillow. But in the light of the waning morning, things were starkly different. Now, she condemned ‘past Amy’ for not having been more organized. Now, she wished she’d had the foresight to find an outfit before she’d climbed into bed.

She decided on the only shirt she had left, shaking out the cream fabric and hoping for the best as she searched for a suitable item to pair it with. The brown mid-length skirt she found was far from ideal, but it would have to do. Stripping out of the oversized tee that doubled as a nightshirt, she flung the clothing on the bed as she raced to the en suite to freshen up.

Based on the multiple rooms Kyle had shown her the prior night, hers was actually not that large, but to Amy, it was luxurious. The white fittings and soft blue furnishings were just the kind of touches she’d have chosen for herself had she enjoyed Kyle’s money.

By the time she was dressed and had dragged a brush through her ungainly mop of hair, her watch indicated there were only four minutes until she was due to meet her new live-in boss. Spraying herself with vanilla scent, she slid on her flat shoes, grabbed her phone, and slid it into her skirt pocket.

She bolted from the room and rounded the galleried landing, temporarily awed yet again by the enormity of the place. Each side of the triangular gallery was decorated in exquisite gold-framed mirrors and fine art. As she looked up past the top floor of the house, she was struck by the impressive cylindrical glass roof, which flooded the space with natural light.

She was almost at the bottom of the staircase when the grandfather clock in the huge hallways struck midday. Stilling at the initial chime, her gaze bored into the clock’s face with disbelief.

No! She checked her watch for the umpteenth time that morning as she sped toward the corridor hiding his study. No, I can’t be late!

The clock was striking its twelfth peal as she knocked on the door, then stopped to compose herself. She prayed the sound meant he still considered her to be on time. If there was one thing that irritated Amy, it was tardiness, and she didn’t want to be guilty of the offense on her very first day.

“Enter!”

She tensed at his terse tone, her pulse speeding up. What did that mean? Was he angry with her, or was that just how he sounded when he was interrupted?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kyle.” She forced a smile as she opened the door and stepped inside.

“Right on time, Amy.” He closed the lid of his laptop and regarded her. “Close the door, please.”

With the first obstacle seemingly tackled, she did as he asked, shutting the door before walking in the direction of the chair she’d sat in to sign the contract.

“No.”

She stopped at his hard tone. “Sir?”

“You won’t be sitting down.” He dismissed the idea with a casual flick of his wrist. “Let me look at you.”

“ Look at me?” She said the words aloud, her brows knitting as though he’d spoken another language.

“Yes.” His brow rose. “Stand up straight so I can look at you.”

She tensed as his concentration speared her, painfully aware of his attention as it crawled over her body. She recalled the beginning of the meal he’d bought her when he’d evaluated her choice of attire at Worthington’s. That had been uncomfortable enough, but the excitement of their meeting had placated his judgment. This scrutiny, though, was something else altogether. The intensity of his interest was consuming as the silence stretched out around her.

“Turn around, please.” He gestured for her to circle.

Heart racing, she spun slowly, feeling like an animal on parade.

“Is this what housekeepers do?” She’d intended it as a joke, but even she could hear how brittle her voice sounded as she spun. “Is the role secretly a fashion show?”

Kyle eyed her as she completed her circuit. “Housekeepers do whatever they’re told. Or have you forgotten the contract you signed?”

“No.” She sensed a hot rush of embarrassment at the rebuke. “I just meant...”

“Quiet, please.” He raised a finger to his lips to hush her.

Her jaw fell open with incredulity. He just hushed me! She couldn’t believe it. As though I were a child!

“I can’t say I approve of this outfit, Amy.” A crease appeared on his brow. “I remember telling you that you’d make any attire shine, and I stand by that praise— you are wonderful—but this ensemble truly doesn’t flatter you.”

Well, screw you!

The insult teetered on the tip of her tongue, but the promise of the money held the words back. She hadn’t agreed to look after the running of his home to be judged for her clothing! She’d told him she didn’t have much of a selection. Maybe he’d assumed she was only jesting, but this was the best she had to offer.

“Have I offended you?” His chin lifted as if he couldn’t decide.

“No, I...” Her words trailed away as she struggled with the lie. She was offended and mortified at the way he’d evidenced her poverty. Standing there, she couldn’t recall experiencing such dreadful shame before.

“I have, haven’t I?” He sighed. “Forgive me. It’s not my intention to dishonor you, but I do want to be honest.”

Obviously.

“Okay.” She shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, aware suddenly that her black flat shoes didn’t coordinate with her brown skirt. “I have a few other choices. I’ll find something else for—”

“No need.” He cut her off. “You’re working for me, so I’ll provide you with a uniform. That will save both of our embarrassment.”

Her gaze flew to his, scanning for any proof that he was also embarrassed but finding none.

“A uniform, sir?”

He hadn’t mentioned anything about one until then, and neither could she recall the concept being bandied in the contract.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Something for us both.”

For us both ? That was an odd way of putting it.

“What size are you?” His attention skimmed over her curves. “I mean, I could guess, but I might get it wrong.”

“A medium size should be fine, sir .” She placed just enough emphasis on the final word to, she hoped, convey her unease with the conversation.

So, he didn’t like her clothes? Her jaw tightened at his judgment. Fair enough. She agreed her clothing was tired and tatty, so she’d take the uniform he offered and wear the damn thing while she worked there. She’d worn an overall to clean in the last evening job, so what difference did it make? Anything to accelerate out of this clumsy discussion as fast as she could sounded like a win.

“Leave it with me.” He rose from his chair and rounded the desk. Once more, she was struck by the sheer size of him as he approached. “How was your sleep?”

“Good, thank you.” She glanced away, conscious of the blush heating her cheeks. She’d always loathed the way her discomfort showed so easily, but its presence in his office was exceptionally undesirable.

“Excellent. I expect you’re hungry.” His head inclined as he sought to catch her eyes. “Do you remember where the dining room is?”

“I think so, sir.” The memories of the evening seemed to be branded in her head. Amy suspected she’d recall Kyle’s house long after she’d been invited to leave it.

“Good,” he continued. “I’ll have Cook prepare us some brunch.”

Of course, he has a cook.

She wanted to roll her eyes. Anyone with a home that required a housekeeper would also employ a chef, a driver, and, no doubt, a gardener.

“I don’t want a fuss, Mr. Kyle.” The idea of dining with him wasn’t as alluring as it had been last night. He’d only been a fantasy then—a mysterious man she’d met once, who sounded exciting. Now, he was her employer, and honestly, she’d had enough of his scrutiny for one afternoon. “I can get something for myself between my duties.”

“It wasn’t a request, Amy.”

His brusque tone immediately amplified her anxiety.

“We’ll meet over brunch to discuss my expectations of you today.”

Expectations?

“Oh.”

“In fact, I think, during the trial at least, we should meet for breakfast every morning to ensure we have a chance to check in.”

To check in? What was she, a hotel?

“Yes.” Avoiding eye contact, she fixed her attention on his crisp white shirt. She bet he had a wardrobe full of those, or given how many rooms with wardrobes the house had, maybe he had more than one. Maybe he had an entire wing of wardrobes. “What time should we meet for breakfast, sir?”

She was already tiring of using the preposterous title, although, yet again, she noticed her body’s primal reaction to the word. He demanded it, she assumed, to reinforce the hierarchy between them—that he was elevated from her as her employer—and initially, the concept did little but irritate her.

She noted, though, that once that frustration had faded, there was a lingering sense of intrigue and that faint tingling at the apex of her thighs. Secretly, she imagined what it would be like to bed a man like Kyle. She’d be willing to wager he liked to be in control there, too. Perhaps he would insist she still defer to him as ‘sir’ as she slid his shaft into her—

“Amy?”

She snapped to attention, aware she hadn’t been listening to anything he’d just said.

Shit!

“I’m sorry.” She prayed the ground would open up and swallow her, but inevitably, her feet remained rooted to his study’s floor. How could she have been so immersed in the idea of bedding the guy that she’d not heard him—especially after she had asked him a question?

“Need me to repeat that answer?” His sardonic tone suggested he was more amused than upset, but still, she berated her foolishness.

“Yes, please. I’m...” She hesitated, unclear how to explain herself without exacerbating the situation.

“Breakfast at seven o’clock every morning.” He said the words painfully slowly, the gleam in his gaze making her wonder if he didn’t have a fair idea of what had distracted her. Beneath her skirt, she pressed her thighs together at the idea he might. What would he think of her, standing there lusting after the man who’d thrown her a life raft?

“Got it.” She gulped, struggling to recall a more humiliating moment in her entire life. Even calling her ex-landlord to admit she couldn’t make the rent hadn’t been as awful as this.

“Fabulous.” He smiled. “I’m glad we could resolve that.”

She pulled in a breath, certain his response was intended to mock her delay.

“We’ll discuss the rest over brunch.”

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t dare meet his eyes, but she could imagine the knowing gleam dancing in them.

“Until then.” His hand rose, pausing a few inches from her face.

Aware of its proximity, she froze, unsure if she sought his touch or simply wanted to run from the room and not look back.

“You have a gorgeous complexion, Amy.”

Her eyes widened. That was an unexpected change of tack.

“May I touch you?” His hand hovered in front of her, awaiting her permission.

“Touch me?” She’d heard him correctly, hadn’t she? Apparently, he found her flaming embarrassment a source of temptation—that was odd enough—but she couldn’t reconcile why he’d seek to touch her.

“I know I took the liberty of doing so last night to direct your gaze, but now we’re here on day one, it only feels right that I ask your consent.”

“I...” She eyed his long fingers, amazed at how clean and well-manicured his nails were. Kyle was not like any man she’d known. “I guess so. Yes.”

She wanted him to, of course. Secretly, she longed for the idea, but confessing so on the first day of the bizarre contract was not something she was prepared to do. She might never be prepared to.

He skimmed his index finger over her heated flesh, and her eyes fell closed at the gentleness of the caress.

“You’re exquisite.”

She didn’t feel exquisite.

As he stroked her cheek, she felt overwhelmed, confused, and awkward, but she held the levy of those emotions back, trying to grasp for control.

“Don’t ever let me hear you denigrating this beautiful blush.” The side of his fingers grazed her skin. “Not when it’s so wonderful.”

Wonderful? That wasn’t the word Amy would have chosen.

“Is that clear?” He rested his palm against the side of her face, the soft pressure drawing her eyes open.

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was a strained whisper.

What was he doing to her?

Standing there beside him, it didn’t even seem strange calling him sir. Not while he was so close and his touch was so tender. It felt almost... natural.

“Good.”

His thumb glided to her chin while his palm remained pressed to her cheek. It took every fiber of her will to resist the urge to lean into his warm hand. Instead, she stood there, staring at the buttons of his shirt, her chest rising and falling as she attempted to think of something— any thing—to say and break the spell he held over her.

“Do you have any specific dietary requirements that Cook should know about?”

She’d never been happier to hear a question. “No, sir.”

“I’ll speak to him and ask him to whip up Eggs Benedict.”

The tip of his thumb strayed to her bottom lip, the tiny gesture inflaming the tension in her body by about one hundred-fold. He had no right to stroke her there. No right to be doing any of this, really, so why wasn’t she fighting him away?

Because of the money, the voice in her head snapped as her throat dried . I’ll do whatever I have to do for the money.

“How does my selection sound, Amy?”

“Lovely, sir.” She didn’t even recognize the raspy croak that emanated from her mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His hand fell away, and she was instantly engulfed with an odd sense of loss. She missed his warmth, she supposed. Yes, that would be it. It had nothing to do with the sensual way he’d been able to insist she yielded nor the way she sensed her body softening at his caress. She was only cold.

“The time is now fifteen minutes after twelve. Meet me in the dining room in ten minutes.”

Fifteen minutes past? She blinked at him. Where had those minutes gone?

It was just like the evening at Worthington’s. Time with Kyle seemed to protract, then speed up in anomalous pockets she didn’t comprehend. One moment, she’d been meeting him in the evening, and the next, she’d woken up in his house at almost midday.

“Amy.” His eyes were like two deep pools that she might imagine diving into on a fancy, exotic holiday. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Why couldn’t she pull herself together? The heady schoolgirl act wasn’t quite the look she’d wanted to convey on her first day. Or ever, to be honest. She wanted to seem organized and capable, not pathetic. “Yes, I’m fine, sir.”

She took a small step back and pulled in a breath, inadvertently inhaling more of that intoxicating spicy scent he always seemed to be wearing.

I have to get a grip!

Kyle had a way of bewitching her, but she was still in control. She had to be. She had Graham and Jonah’s debts to take care of. It was time she demonstrated the responsibility she shouldered.

“Go then.” He motioned for the door. “You’re dismissed.”