Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“What’s the job?”
I exhale. “Maid. Cleaning a massive mansion-like house. It’s really easy, and I can earn as much as I need, really.”
“Anything worth taking, maybe that’ll get the money quicker?”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not stealing, Enzo. I’m not a damned thief.”
“Mansion would be full of good stuff; if you truly wanted to help me, you’d be looking at every option.”
“Listen,” I say, my voice firming up because stuff him. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a criminal. I never have been, and I never will be. “You’re in here for another five months, understand? That debt isn’t touching you in here, it’ll only touch you when you get out. I said I’d have it paid by the time that happened, but I will not steal.”
His lips tighten, but he gives me a sharp nod. “Do whatever you want, just make sure it’s done. Have you spoken to Yolanda?”
“Why in the actual hell would I speak to her?”
He looks away and, for a split second, I’d almost say he looked a little guilty. But, after a moment, he looks back, face stony again. Does he actually feel bad about what he did, or has something else happened? Is he speaking to Yolanda, hell, are they starting some sort of relationship? That thought makes my chest clench and my stomach turn.
“Has she been visiting?” I ask, my voice harder than I would like.
He says nothing. “I was asking a question, Saskia, not looking to answer them.”
Jerk.
God damn it, why does this hurt so much?
Why in the hell can’t I just stop loving him?
Damn you, Enzo. Damn you.
~5~
SASKIA
I’ve been working here for a week.
So far, so good.
Mason is hardly ever here. He comes in at night, usually after I’ve gone to bed. I hear him rummaging around for a bit before everything goes quiet. Then, by the time I wake up in the morning, he’s gone. I’d almost think he doesn’t like his own house; it feels as though he’s uncomfortable here, like being in it makes him want to rip his own hair out. I don’t know why, it’s a freaking beautiful house.
I love being here.
I had my two days off yesterday, to which I went and collected some more stuff from my apartment and spent a few nights there, coming over here during the day to tidy a few things up, but it was mostly pretty casual. This morning, I’m back in for my five-day stay and, honestly, I’m relieved. I really do love being here, it’s an escape from reality, without a doubt.
I walk into the house just after seven in the morning.
I don’t see Mason or hear anything as I get to work figuring out what needs to be done during the week. Mason said he’d leave a list, and I find that list on the counter. Picking it up, I read over it. He needs washing done, cleaning, shopping, and he wants some mail posted as well as some letters delivered to some place in town. Right. I can handle that. I glance around the big, empty house and exhale.
I’ll go upstairs and start with his room.
I always start with his room, just in case he comes home and wants to use it.
I move up the stairs and toward the door at the end of the hall. Mason’s room is massive, I’m talking huge, it’s probably the size of my apartment. When I reach the door, I go to turn the handle but realize it’s locked. I wonder if he’s still in there? I knock a few times, wait, then knock some more. Nothing happens. Pursing my lips, I go back downstairs and take the spare set of keys for all the rooms. He showed me where they were when I first started just in case I ever needed them and he wasn’t here.
He must have accidentally locked his room.
I walk back up and use the key to unlock the door. Then I step inside and stop dead in my tracks. My eyes widen, and I stare for what seems like a few really long minutes, blinking at the sight in front of me.
There is a woman tied to his bed. She’s cuffed in a perfect cross, legs and arms outstretched, and she’s butt naked. Everything on display. She’s wearing a ball gag in her mouth, and a mask that covers her eyes. Oh. My. Lord.
I glance around the room, feeling like I’ve just stepped into a BDSM club. I can’t see Mason. Did he leave this poor girl here? Alone? Where the hell is he? Did he go out to get coffee? Breakfast? Or did he simply forget about her? I bite my bottom lip and glance back at the girl, then figure what the hell, she might want to be freed. I’m going to see if she’s okay.