Page 42 of House of Lies

Cassidy looks up at me with shock, and even the delivery guy seems frozen in place for a moment before he ducks his head and hurries back to his van.

The front door rattles when I slam it closed.

“He was just doing his job,” Cassidy mutters.

“I don’t pay delivery drivers to flirt with the help.”

“The help?” Her voice is several decibels higher than usual. I won’t address the fact that the way she spoke to the delivery guy was vastly nicer than she’s ever addressed me.

“Put these away.” My surly tone doesn’t go unnoticed—Cassidy puts her hands on her hips and glares daggers into my back as I head to the stairs. I pause, waiting for her to get moving, but she just stands there. “Go on. I need the first floor finished today.”

“Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!”

I give her a faint smile.

Something about it makes the fierceness in her eyes fade to unease.

I turn and stride back up to her. She stiffens, but refuses to give way as I advance, even as I stop barely two inches from her and she has to crane her neck to look up at me.

The urge to grab her neck makes my fingertips pulse, but the longer I can keep myself from touching her, the better it will be when I finally do. Plus, I don’t have time for distractions right now.

“As I’m sure you know, I have an open house on Friday. Your job is to ensure that everything is spotless before then. Do you now have sufficient information to get on your hands and knees and do your fucking job?”

“Right, because you’re selling.” She purses her head, turns her head away. “Then I’d better get a move on, Mr. Remington.” Her voice is low, almost hoarse.

Her response catches me off balance. Is it possible Myles didn’t give her any kind of idea what would happen after she stepped into my home? Or was she expecting to stay longer than Friday?

“I’m not sure what you were told, but I’m leaving Friday evening.”

Her eyes narrow. “Leaving?”

“To go back to the city.”

She blinks rapidly, waiting.

“I only need your help until Friday. I’m sorry if there was any confusion?—”

“Do I look confused?” She pins me with a hard stare. “You’ve made it very clear exactly where I stand, Mr. Remington.” She spits out my name like a curse. “Or rather… where I should kneel.”

My jaw clenches like a vise as she grabs the groceries and strides into the kitchen with her head held high. It takes self-control I didn’t know I possess to turn and head upstairs instead of pulling her over my lap and spanking some civility into her.

I guess nothing I taught her last night has sunk in.

Chapter 18

Cassidy

By dinner time, the library is the only room on the first floor I haven’t cleaned yet.

My bad.

Should have gotten to it when I was still buzzing with anger. But as the hours passed, and I lost myself in the zen-like focus of cleaning Ethan’s McMansion, the thought of tackling that massive room became more daunting.

It’s going to take me most of the day to vacuum the Persian rugs. Then there’s dusting all the bookshelves, washing the windows, polishing the mahogany desk…

I’m standing at the entrance, still trying to figure out which piece of this enormous elephant I’m going to eat first, when my phone rings.

It’s my dad. I’m not in a mood to speak to him, but I’m in less of a mood to clean Ethan’s library, so I procrastinate like a champ and take the call.

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