52

After six bottles, all he could feel was anger. And hatred. No woman denied him. He had all women at the tip of his fingers and they submitted to his every whim. They worshipped his cork, marveled at his art, and wanted more of him.

And who was Kate? How dare she make him feel so miserable? A common maid.

He could do it. He could treat her as the maid she wanted so badly to be

“Kate,” his voice roared in the mansion. Although he was drunk, he still found strength in his voice.

When Kate appeared before him, she was still wearing the light polo top and khaki shorts.

“Why aren’t you in your uniform?.”

Kate raised her voice to explain. “Today is not my – I’m sorry sir.” She bowed her apology.

“Pour me,” he said, tilting his glass cup in her direction.

Kate moved to the table and grabbed a bottle of alcohol. She counted the empty bottles on the table.

“Don’t think I’m doing this because of you,” Denzel said, reading her thoughts.

She poured. “Of course.”

He took a gulp. “You’re