I smirk, "You're not going to be needing that."
If looks could kill, I would be dead, but then she says, "I certainly hope not, but I can't leave it here for them to find, now, can I?"
I chuckle and walk in, pick it up, and examine it. Turning it on and off. Slapping it against my hand. "We might need to look into adding this bad boy to our lineup."
She laughs, "It's a humdinger. Guaranteed to make your toes curl and your teeth chatter."
I laugh with her. "Maybe not then. We don't want anyone suing us for breaking their veneers." I toss it in the open backpack on the bed. "Your place is nice. Cozy even."
She shrugs as she slips her shoe back on. "It's my safe space." She looks at me without any fight and says, "And now you're in here too." She taps her temple, and I feel bad for invading her privacy.
"I apologize." I sit on the bed next to her, and my ass is right on the edge. "I should have respected your wishes. It's just that…"
"What? You aren't used to being told no? Not used to being denied? Always get your way? Stop me when I'm wrong." She smirks.
"Not wrong yet, but not right either."
Her head tilts, and her brows furrow with curiosity.
"You're stunningly beautiful right now, Samaera. Just so you know —because I don't think you do."
She blinks back her surprise.
"It's just that you said, 'when the time comes to walk away, and it will come' with such certainty, it made me realize that thought holds no place in my brain." I open my hand and offer it to her. "And I don't want it to."
She looks at it for a long time before she accepts it.
18
Samaera
How canmy heart soar between such extremes?
Happy and over the top joyful to have this job and this boss in my life, and sad, devastated actually, that it's temporary. Bastian isn't Prince Charming. Girls like me don't get the fairy tale. I'm the help. And the best I get is living the dream until he finds his princess.
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me gently. Then he rises, pulling me to my feet, and asks, "Do you have an outfit packed you can wear tomorrow?"
My mouth goes skank. "Sort of…"
His dimple appears. "Sort of?"
"My wardrobe needs washing." I pull the full hemline of my red dress off my thighs. "This isn't my normal business attire. This is my dinner date dress. But in a pinch, it gets the job done. All the washing machines were busy the last two nights."
Unfazed, he bends down and slings my backpack over his shoulder. "Just one bag, then?"
"Yes. It holds all my prized possessions."
He chuckles, "Come on then." Before we walk out, he asks, "Anything in the fridge?"
"Just sandwich meat."
He pulls me by my hand out the door and tells Rob, "Change of plans. Leave her shit here. Empty her refrigerator and give the sandwich meat to someone on the street, send her laundry out and have it delivered to the house, then seal up her safe space."
"Yes, sir." He states without looking at me.
On the way down the stairs, I tell him, "Thank you. I may need to climatize myself from time to time."
"Nonsense," he laughs, "I don't live in a prison."
