“Why did you take me there?” I asked, as curious as his mother.
“I had told her I would be home for tea, and I don’t like to cancel our meetings. She can spend the whole week complaining about it,” he explained, scowling. “I guess I wasn’t ready to end a lovely day. I can see now that it could have ended in a very disastrous way, but you handled her like a pro.”
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that last sentence of yours,” I complained, though my heart had jumped into a frantic pace when he admitted he had spent a lovely day with me.
He picked one of my hands and kissed the palm. “As a compliment, of course,” he assured me, pulling me closer and demanding one more kiss from my still swollen lips.
“Good…”
He chuckled. “Hungry?”
“Famish, actually,” I admitted, though I wasn’t in a hurry to get up.
“Perfect. The food should be here in a few minutes. I ordered on my way up,” he announced.
“Oh… we could have been interrupted…” I pointed out with a slight frown.
He laughed. “Yes… we could have… I wasn’t expecting such a warm reception,” he confessed, jumping to his feet and stretching his hand to help me up.
I laughed too, but I was suddenly a bit off, not sure how to interpret his words. Was he upset? Perhaps, I shouldn’t have waited for him in the living room… Should I have waited for him to call me?
He must have sensed my confusion because he pulled me closer and pushed my chin up to look straight into my eyes. “Though I wasn’t expecting it, I loved it. I missed you all day long,” he assured me, in a huskier tone. “Be sure I wouldn’t mind being welcomed like this every single night,” he added, with a naughty grin on his handsome face.
I lowered my eyes and giggled nervously, not completely convinced. After all, he was the man that didn’t take his dates home. That could only mean he valued his privacy a lot, and I should keep that in mind. Besides, I was his housekeeper, not his sex slave.
“I’ll see what I can do about it,” I teased him. “I’ll go wash up before the food arrives,” I added, with a faint smile.
He pushed my chin up once more and kissed me one last time before he let me go. “Don’t be long.”
Food was excellent, and by the time we finished clearing the kitchen and setting the dishwasher, I was a nervous wreck. What was I supposed to do now? I had never been on a relationship like this one. I ignored the rules I was supposed to follow, and I hated that.
Deep down, I guess I was afraid I would screw up, and he would be mad at me. I didn’t admit this, not even to myself, but the tiny little doubt gnawed at me, despite my efforts to silence it.
18
Jayden calmed my nerves, picking me in his arms and carrying me to his bed, so I guess I would have to play by ear.
The following week went by in a blur of passion and lust. I would spend my days taking care of the house and cooking for him, and we would spend the evenings together, in or out of the house, but the nights were always spent in each other’s arms.
I don’t remember ever being so happy, and though I was thrilled, I was also scared. How could this last? Jayden didn’t know anything about my past. I hadn't even told him I was still married to a fucking bastard who had been hunting me down across the country.
I wanted to tell him… not everything. I wasn’t ready to discuss the years of abuse, but he deserved to know I was still married. But how on earth do you slip something like that into the conversation?
‘Oh, by the way, I’m married…’
My guts told me that wouldn’t end well, so I convinced myself I didn’t have to tell him anything. I knew my time with him had a deadline, that he would grow tired of playing house with me and would kindly ask me to leave. And of course, Susan’s leave wouldn’t last forever. I would have to go when she returned, which meant I had like two or three weeks left.
One morning, I was dusting the living room when the phone started ringing. The unexpected sound startled me. It was the first time someone called the house, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I should take the call or not.
After a few moments of doubt, I finally picked up the phone. “Good morning, Anne, it’s Phoebe.”
“Oh, hi, Phoebe. Is there a problem? You usually call me on my cell phone,” I asked, intrigued.
Phoebe chuckled. “Yes… that’s right, but no, no problem. It’s just that I received a phone call for you, and I wasn’t sure I should give him your cell phone number.”
The other woman’s words froze me in place. How was it possible? How had he found me?
Trying to stay in control, I asked Phoebe. “Who’s he?”
