T w o

I signed the next day and moved in a week later.

Laid down on my bed with my phone to my ear, telling everything to my mom. It thrilled her I'd found this job, but most of all, she was happy I could afford college and have sufficient time to concentrate on my studies.

"How's dad?"

"You know how he is. He doesn't like retirement but is getting the idea."

"Will visit next weekend," I promised and hanged up. Left most of my stuff back in the apartment. I paid for a taxi to bring my plastic boxes stock of clothes, a box of books, a suitcase, and my backpack full of toiletries. I required little. I would not spend a lot of space. I would focus on taking more credits this upcoming semester now that I had more than enough time in my hands.

A bathroom, a desk for my computer, drawers, hangers for my clothes, and a stove to heat and cook food. All I required was in the kitchen, and there was no way I ought to have it inside my bedroom.

I glued the rules to the back of the door and eyed carefully. I needed to engrave them into my skull.

My duties were pretty simple. I was to pile the mail and leave it inside the study on a small tray; I was to forward any vital message to Jameson and the other secretary.

The house was massive and a little too ostentatious for me. There are two double doors as the front door, a tall fence, an electric gate with a keypad as security, wired walls, and an enormous garden and front lawn. Two stories high, mahogany tables, silk, hand-painted glass, mirrors and carpets here and there, flowers in the foyer, marble floors, and on and on. I had only seen the first floor and had no intention of taking those stairs. I love my position too much. All I had to do was to adhere to Jameson's orders, and all progressed smoothly. The staff came and cleaned and left cooked meals for me.

"How's the job?"

"Is good, I can't believe this is real."

"Just try to keep what I told you and it will go great."

"I'm doing all by the rules and also Jameson orders."

"Yeah, that little slime was just in your same position a couple of years back. Turns out he was a little too obvious and once he finished with his degree, continued for a job with Liam."

"Liam?"

"Westbrook." Oh. That was his name? Sexy. "You think you could keep Jessa company on Thursday? She's having a friend over for homework and I just want to make sure she doesn't go wild. I don't know her little friend."

Extra money. Who would say no to that?

"Sure."

For weeks, it was like that. I went out on errands, received packages, and signed on behalf of the mysterious Liam H. Westbrook. I still did not know how he looked or what kind of person my boss was and couldn't care less, not when I was being paid like that.

On Monday morning, at precisely 7:45 pm, I received an urgent call. I was to leave the house in the next hour. Plans had changed out of the blue, and the big boss jet would land in fifteen minutes. It took me around ten to gather some clothes, keys, and my laptop. With my hair damp and still in pajamas, I ran out the door after punching the security code in. I dialed rapidly for a cab and waited for a few feet left off the gates, crouched low beside a bush.

I saw as a big SUV advanced fast in my direction from a distance, its front lights blinding me as it slowed down and stopped. A second later, I saw the metal door creaked open, and it rolled in slowly. I guess it was Mr. Westbrook. It had to have been him because no one else was at home when he came back. I sighed and made a mental note. Next time I'd have a bag prepared, it had been too short notice, but I had made it with enough time to spare. A little too James Bond for my taste.

"Did he see you?" Spat Jameson on the other side of the phone, his voice full of worry.

"No, I got out before his car rolled in."

"Good. He's a little crazy about his privacy."

"Try to let me know sooner. I'm just fresh out of the shower."

He laughed. "Will try, good job, sleep well."

I tossed and turned on my old bed. In the short time, I had spent on my new bed, my body had grown accustomed to the softness and fluffiness of fresh quilts, sheets, and new mattress. I wept inside as the morning came and went. The call for me to go back didn't come.

A whole week and they still had me waiting.

The boss has business in town. Stay put will call you once he's out.

The text had come in after inviting Lin to a couple of slices of pizza. We had retaken our Saturday night out to catch up. She was like me, on the wait back to school and struggling, working on her uncle's restaurant and designing webpages at night. She wanted to be a graphic designer. I went to the boring side and was about to start my third year in accounting.

"What is it like living with the rich?"

"Nothing exciting is terrifying, actually."

Her short hair moved as she chuckled. "You're fucking nuts."

"I'm not joking Lin. There's art that could easily be more valuable than my own life. I'm locked up in my room or the backyard most of the time."

"It's a pity you can't invite me over."

"Yeah, but I get to buy you food." I bumped her hip with mine, and she did the same. These brief moments with my friend were golden. Having to stretch money was no fun and now that I could spend a little more on myself made me happier.

"Keep the food, just get me one of those."

"Sure, next time Margo asks me for something I'll suggest you exist."

"That's my girl."

"I still don't know what he looks like."

"Look him up, you know his name."

She takes out her phone and hands it to me. I'm not sure if I want to do this. It has been fine so far to live in the darkness. I started typing on G****e and waited. A bunch of links began loading, and I tapped images.

"I bet he's old."

"And bald."

"And has a beer gut."

"Widower."

"Yes!"

"Oh, my god! Is that him?"

Our heads bump and stay pressed together. I cannot believe my eyes. "are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"I have my glasses on."

"Jesus Christ."

"Are you sure you typed correctly?" I'm sure that's his name but not the face; I have yet to meet the man. Not even sure anymore. I can't. I have to go back. I even closed the app and passed her the phone. I'm spelling his name low and slowly. Sounding every word, and we even add the H. The same result, the same man.

"You are living under the roof of a God!" she squeals and hugs me. If we were legal, I'd buy us alcohol.

"Look at those eyes."

"He could be the shortest man alive and I'd still bang him."

"Shhh… lower your voice." I tried whispering the last part, but something inside me was burning. How could Margot Pope talk so easily about him? How could anyone be in his presence and not become a whole puddle of skin and fabrics? I'm sure that if I was before him, I'd soon die of a heart attack if I stared long enough into those eyes.

"Imagining what would you do to him?"

"I'd sure let him teach me some stuff." That makes her laugh even harder. We have to leave, so I'm fussing with our things while she just carries on. People are giving us dirty looks. Lin is having too much fun, and I can't believe my luck, even if I never meet him. Just knowing we share the same square spaces is something.

When I got into my bed that night, I googled everything there was about him. There was a particular one at a widely known women's magazine that stood out for me;

'Standing at 6'2" Liam H. Westbrook is one of the hottest moguls alive. Hot chocolate brown eyes and brown hair, 36 years old. Never married and the sexiest face in business world. He's the most eligible bachelor in town. He is known for his seclusion and crazy need for privacy. Hot body for the few pictures taken two years ago on a secluded island with an unknown woman by his side. Is invited to big annual parties, movie premiers and is followed by the paparazzi after his long-lost love died ten years ago. Even though his love life is a tragedy, he is approached by women of all ages, nationalities, and shapes.'

I almost touched myself with one of his pictures, in which he stared away from the camera. However, you still see his entire face, his piercing eyes looking at something intense, and then his mouth hard, in a middle pout. Annoyed maybe.

"Liam H. Westbrook," I said out loud, tasting his name in my voice. It even sounded yummy, but then again, he was my boss and totally unreachable. He was high in with the other stars while I rolled over the grass doing the only thing one can do with stars, watch them from afar.

Finally! I'm back in the room with my queen-size bed, the fluffy pillows, the smooth surface of my desk, and the clean, crisp air that comes through the window from the backyard. I working on an assignment on my beat-up computer.

"No. No. No. NOOO. Don't you dare?" I screamed. The error message floated above my excel document, and it didn't allow me to even click the start bar. "Please, I promise I will clean your keyboard and your fan. I will not use you for an entire day," I begged and cried at the same time.

All in vain.

The screen went suddenly black, and no matter how much I pressed the one button, it didn't come back to life. Doomed. It also didn't help that it was midnight on a Tuesday. Everything was far and probably closed, and the only person right now that could help me was too far away. Lin always came running whenever this happened to me. She had fixed it the last couple of times since I couldn't afford an actual technician.

I had two more days to finish, but where could I do it. There was the option of the computers at the library. Still, the programs were so outdated that it might take me to double the time I actually had to make it. I also had some other papers to turn in and classes to be at. I should just have bought that computer with my credit card and paid for it with my savings. I was still a little short, but I could have quickly done with the card. I had saved half on my USB, so at least I had that. It was late now, and I had to catch up on some sleep. I had been working for hours, and my ass and neck had throbbed.

"Who's in there?"

I'm jumped, and a loud bang followed. My knee had hit the corner of the desk, and I felt like it was bleeding from the inside. Who could it be? I was pretty sure I had armed the security system hours ago. Unless. No, no fucking way. I frantically searched for my phone, but there were no calls, texts, or emails.

"Is Dolly," I said loud enough for him, whoever he was, to hear.

Silence.

The chair creaked as I stood up. There were sounds from my feet on the carpet. I even felt my bones shake inside my body from all the shaking.

"Are you the girl who cares for the house?" He spoke before I had the chance to open the door.

"Y-yes."

I placed my ear against the door to listen more carefully. For a moment, I thought he had gone away, but the doorknob moved, and I hurried to unlock it.

"Why do you lock it if you're all alone here?"

I froze. Good question.

His face.

Jesus Christ, he's tall.

I knew my mouth was open; I imagine it hangs all the way to the floor, but as soon as his features went from intrigued to bored, I clamped it shut. He was in a three-piece suit, charcoal gray with a blue dress shirt and no tie, his open collar revealing tanned skin. Even though he looked like he had come back from work, his complete look wasn't what I had been expecting. It was worse in person. He was absolutely gorgeous in person.

"I. I don't know." Right now, I didn't even know my name. I didn't even know how I had spoken. To articulate words.

"Why were you yelling?"

"You heard?" Oh god. I covered my face.

"All the way to my room. Your shrieks scared the hell out of me."

"I'm sorry. I'm working on an assignment and, and my computer just died."

He squinted his eyes and then took a step towards me, then another, pushing me inside. He was scanning my room. Well, his room was now occupied by me. I had my backpack on the bed open, the bra I had been wearing lay on the back of the chair, and I moved quickly to retrieve it, hiding it behind my back. His eyes went to my computer, and his finger dangled over the power bottom and dabbed it. Just like when I did it a couple of minutes ago, the screen remained black.

"Dead." He announced like he just made a significant discovery

"That was what I said." He turned back to me and then to scan my sleeping clothes and cocked his head. Apparently, he'd never seen oversized jersey pants and a shirt. Maybe his partners were into the negligees with garter-belts and silk and lace.

He said nothing else. His attention turned to my open notebook book full of notes and numbers. He even passed a page while I stood there, unable to understand the universe and his whole porpoise.

Why was he here?

Why was he touching my notebook?

Why hadn't Jameson called me?

"Aren't you a bit too young for college?"

"I'm nineteen."

"You look twelve." He added quickly.

"Right." It's not like I hadn't heard that before.

He drifted like a tiger prancing. Once his foot was out the door, I moved towards the door to close it, but when he stopped and turned back to me, I had to stop myself from dismissing him.

"There's a computer in my study. You can use it." And then he turned away and left. I closed the door and stared at the NOT TO DO LIST glued behind it. I had just been given permission to violate rule number one. I sat there for ten minutes, thinking. I really needed it. I had to finish today. I went over the list before taking my USB drive and walked down the hall as slowly as possible.

I never walked through this door. I even avoided looking at it. All I wanted was to keep my job intact, to keep the money coming. To not infuriate the boss, and it had been he who had allowed me to enter this room. Testing the knob, I felt the need to hold air in my lungs, waiting for some type of alarm to ring. It was silly, I know, but I feared that the moment I even opened a tiny crack, Jameson would appear out of nowhere and scream, 'YOU'RE FIRED.' Hence, I hesitated, even looked up to the stairs to check if he was watching from up there, waiting.

The soft carpet brushed my naked feet as I entered the room. It was all dark; no light from outside peeked in, so I used my phone's flashlight to look for the switch, and when my fingers brushed over it, I let out a nervous chuckle. This was a mistake. This room was too pristine and too rich. I feared that if I knocked down anything on that enormous mahogany desk, it would cost me a fortune and my previous job. Books everywhere, hardcovers and files. The typically designed study for a rich person looked like a P*******t post even. I tested the surface, and not even a speck of dust. There was a gold pen resting over the closed lid of the shiny silver computer, and a slightly ajar drawer like someone had been here for a moment and had left in a hurry.

I once again looked through the arch of the door, which I had left open. Security measures. I didn't want him or anyone to think that I was doing something besides what I needed to be doing. I took the pen and set it aside, plugged in the computer, and fired it up. The booting sound startled me, and I shushed it as an instant reaction. The sign-in screen had only one user, the owner, and it was password protected.

"Not that one."

I screamed and jumped, bumping the same knee I had hit before against the top of the desk. The pain was sharper. It felt hot. Like blood running down my leg, I even checked, but my hand came back dry.

"Not that one," he said again. "The one inside the box, behind you." He talked in a sexy, slurred voice as he walked towards me. He lifted the laptop, brushing my hand and closed it, and placed it under his arm, leaving me petrified in place just watching him. Whatever was in there was private.

I turned my head back and saw a brown box lying on a small table.

"Use it freely."

He was out the door before I could turn around. The air lingered and felt heavy after him. I lifted my nose and sniffed the air. Deliciously wicked. His eyes were the most amazing eyes I ever had the pleasure of seeing. I felt it go through me. I wanted to think that he had been actually watching me, but I knew I was nothing special to him. Just the skinny girl that took care of his place.