Page 24 of House of Lies

His muscular arm reaches past me to turn the knob, and I nearly jump out of my skin. This man moves like a tiger. Silent, despite his size, and just as damn deadly.

“Thanks,” I mutter, hurriedly pushing into the room so I don’t have to breathe in his smell. It was even stronger this time, and there was an underlying scent I wasn’t prepared for—Ethan’s masculinity. It made me want to press back into him and tip my head back for?—

Dear God, for what, Cassidy? A kiss?

The first thing to catch my eye is the imposing four-poster bed with its towering wooden frame. I cross a thick, blue-and-cream striped rug as I make a beeline for the walk-in closet on the other side of the room.

A fireplace crackles nearby, casting a warm orange hue on the two wingback chairs positioned in front of it. There’s a dark desk with a green leather insert in front of the windows.

I glimpse a majestic view of the manor’s gardens through the partially drawn silk curtains.

The bedroom door closes behind me. I skid to a halt and whip my head around to look.

“Don’t want to let the heat out,” Ethan grates.

That should reassure me…but all I keep thinking is that as large as this room might be, it suddenly feels like a prison.

Chapter 9

Ethan

Olivia is the first cleaning lady to grace these halls in nearly three months. I normally work from my apartment in the city, but I had to move back in here to sort out everything to prepare for selling the house.

The garden needed an overhaul. I had a contractor here last week to fix a leak in the roof and an issue with the boiler in the basement. I know the maid needs to intrude on my personal space to do her job…but of all the rooms I’d expected her to violate today, my bedroom wasn’t one of them. That it’s pretty little Olivia, and not the sixty-something grandmother they sent last time, just makes it worse.

“Leave it,” I bark, gesturing roughly at the bed. “I’ll pack it away later.”

My room isn’t dirty. It’s just… messy. I haven’t really bothered to make the bed or clean away any of the wineglasses and bottles piling up on my desk.

Olivia shifts uneasily, glancing around as if wondering when in the hell her life took such a wrong turn. “I’ll need to come clean in here. Unless you want to do it yourself. But I’m guessing if that had been an option…” The sentence trails off, but the challenging glint in her eyes fills in the blanks.

If that had been an option, I’d have done it myself.

Why does this young woman with her defiant eyes and lush, unhappy mouth make me so goddamn angry?

And I swear, if she calls me sir one more time…

I relent with ill grace, waving toward my closet. “Fine. But be quick. And you can come back later to clean, not now, I’m?—”

“Busy. Yes, Sir.”

I can practically hear her rolling her eyes at me. I’m still standing at the door, my hand pressed to it like I’m the only thing stopping it from swinging open and releasing the heat trapped inside. Not just heat, but the smell of wood smoke and a computer that’s running too hot. I can’t handle the cold—another reason I should have sold this old house months ago.

Now that I’ve finally pulled the trigger, everything is working against me and keeping me bound to this house. First, all the repair work. Now a stubborn maid, bucking and rebelling at every command.

“Watch your mouth, girl,” I tell her. “Or I’ll send you straight back to town.”

She backs up to the closet like I’m a wild animal who’ll pounce on her the moment she turns her back. A wise assumption. I’m feeling all kinds of edgy today. “Sorry. I’m…new to this.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Her mouth twists, but she says nothing. Instead, she decides it’s safe to turn around and start putting away those clothes that don’t need ironing.

Thank God—I’m literally wearing the last clean thing that isn’t a tuxedo or a three-piece suit. I usually prefer sweats when I’m working from home, but it’s been more than a week since I had a clean pair in my closet.

I go to my desk, flipping open my laptop to check my emails. My realtor messaged me this morning to let me know he’d be sending another document for me to review, but I’ve received nothing yet. Maybe I should message?—

“Do your wife and kids only come here in the summer?”

---