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12

I press my lips together and force myself to think about my response. I’m going to get fucking fired, is what’s going to happen.

He’s still waiting for my response, those stormy, grayish-blue eyes locked on me, his glass of whiskey tilted toward his lips.

“Sometimes I get nervous,” I say quietly.

“And that makes you say curse words?”

Shaking my head, I say, “No, it doesn’t make me say them. It makes me forget to hold them in.”

He grins. “That’s the most honest thing I’ve heard all day, Ella.”

“Thank you, sir?”

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll go get the ladder for you. Help yourself to some whiskey, if you’d like.”

I watch him leave the room, too surprised to say another word.

Kingston

I’m going straight to hell for this. Ella is probably the best damn maid the cleaning service has ever sent to work here, and finding a few dusty books was the best I could do to get her into my office.

And why have I brought her into my office?

Answer: I’m a sick, old fuck. A creepy old man obsessed with his
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