Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
“Sorry about that.” My apology is insincere.
“I told Mallory I didn’t want to work at this place,” she mumbles low, probably thinking I can’t hear her. I stand up from my perch and take a hesitant step toward the woman, walking around the wet area she was working on. As much as I’m sure she’d like me to fall flat on my face, making an ass out of myself is not in the cards today.
“And what’s wrong with this place?” I hold my hand out, offering to help her up. The little firecracker waves my hand away. I’m relentless in staying where I am. So, when she’s off her feet, the fairy of a woman, it’s just as I assumed—she’s fucking tiny in height and stature. I’m head and shoulders taller than her, and I’d bet anything I could carry her with little to no effort.
“It’s not the place. It’s the people.” I arch my eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.
“I’m almost done for the day, then I’ll be out of your way.” It’s clear as day I won’t be getting a response, choosing to step aside as she takes a step forward, shoulders squared, ready to attack. Yep, I’ll be making a call to Clean and Gleam. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she keeps working in my penthouse and no one else’s.
TWO
Danica
“Don’t go there,” I mutter under my breath as I resume my task of scrubbing the floor. The man whose name is Theo Goldman, co-owner of Four Brothers, a billion-dollar company, is a man I want nothing to do with. A man in a business suit that costs three times more than my monthly rent. Hell, his shoes would cover at least one month. It brings up a past I’d like to keep buried, a time when money was the key to everything, except it wasn’t. I shake my head. No way, not today, Satan. It’s bad enough the penthouse owner already caught me unaware. A practice I try to never allow to happen. I’m usually on my A-game, careful, watchful, and alert. Theo Goldman wasn’t due home while I was cleaning today. This job also should have been easy, but it wasn’t. The penthouse wasn’t disgustingly filthy by any means, but when you really looked at the kitchen counters, refrigerator, behind the toilets, and the floor, well, that was an entirely different story—dust, dirt, grime, and crumbs were definitely there. I got lost in my task with both earbuds back in, noise cancellation turned off, so I could hear what was going on around me while still listening to the sultry song, a guitar riff tearing it up, the male singer giving what I’m sure is the lead guitarist his moment. Still, I didn’t hear him, which sucks because I was too in the moment.
My eyes catch on a pair of black shoes leaving the area, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief. Now, if I could tell my dumb body that he’s nothing, he’s nobody, just another male body. Except I can’t get over the way I reacted to him. Seven years I’ve gone against the grain, so to speak, using a man for one night and one night only. I’d sneak out of their bed the next morning, never to see them again. I also made sure they never wore a suit. We’d meet at a place a wealthy person would never step foot inside of, and no numbers are ever exchanged. I made the rules, stuck with them, and never put myself in a situation where I’d be dependent on a man. Maybe it’s been too long sing I’ve been on or under a man because the way Theo made me feel, it’s different. It didn’t matter that his presence was twice that of mine; he didn’t come off as someone who would use their body against someone unwillingly. Theo Goldman came off as mischievous, alluring, and, I’m not ashamed to admit, ridiculously handsome.
My body is doing traitorous things to me, like my core clenching and nipples tightening. The fire inside me plus being annoyed with myself only makes me clean the floors harder and faster in an effort to get out of here as soon as possible. I pretend I’m scrubbing him from my memory bank—his ungodly tall figure, light chocolate brown hair, whisky-colored eyes, bronze skin, and clean-shaven face. Maybe it was the way he discarded his suit jacket, leaving him in a long-sleeved black button-down shirt, the cuffs of his sleeves folded back, showing off deep veins running along the top until they rotate toward the inside and reach his wrist. Yep, for someone who wants to cut off a certain male species, I’m sure doing a bang-up job of forgetting about Theo Goldman. I move to another spot after working on the same area for the past too many minutes, cursing myself internally while having thoughts about Theo as if he’d give me the time of day, or that I’d give him the time of day. This is my last task for the day. I already cleaned the rest of the penthouse. Another thought attacks me after meeting the owner—his bedroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows are carried out through the entirety of his house, including his bedroom, where I changed the dark black bedding. His rich black currant with a mix of tobacco almost overwhelmed me. The scent matches its owner, completely and overwhelmingly.