Page 73 of Room Service
“As the manager,” he replies, his face giving nothing away.
“No, as a maid, you know, the job I was doing before you decided to try and land me with the pressure of running this place.” I speak in a light tone, because the offer is extremely nice, but it’s just not for me.
“Mmhmm,” he mumbles. “And I’m guessing that I can’t change your mind?”
“You guess correctly.” I give him a bright smile, hoping he’ll just let this go.
“I thought that might be the case,” he comments, stumping me, because I thought I’d be doing more arguing about it than this. “Which is why I decided to put a manager position in place for housekeeping. You will have control over the rotas, the shift patterns, the general running of the maids only, and you will also be able to allocate a deputy, who will step in when I’m too busy fucking you.” He winks at me, and my shock is replaced with a fluttering in my stomach. Oh, he’s good.
“As wonderful as that sounds, I’m not sure it’s appropriate for you to just decide to fuck me at a moment’s notice,” I tease, but really, the thought of him doing just that is rather thrilling.
“But I’m the owner, and ultimately, your boss,” he says in a dangerously low voice.
“You gonna reprimand me?”
“You better fucking believe it,” he says before I shoot off my chair and run for the bedroom, him hot on my heels and making me squeal like a damn schoolgirl.
He grabs me around the waist before I can shut the door and lock it, and he hauls me over his shoulder before dropping me to the bed and pinning me there, my limbs trapped by his.
I stop squirming and look at him, my expression more serious as I say, “Go on then, boss, show me just what you’ll do if I misbehave.”
The smile he gives me is devilish, and it makes me so fucking wet for him.
“Challenge accepted.”
* * *
After Dorien has devoured me and gone on his merry way, I pluck up the courage to call my mother. I can feel the tension rising as I hit the dial button and wait for her to answer. She does so in two rings.
“Elise, where the hell have you been?” she says, not even bothering to greet me nicely before she goes off on one.
“Hello, Mother, so good to hear from you,” I say sarcastically, because I can’t help myself.
“Don’t get fresh with me, young lady. Where the hell are you? We have things to talk about,” she declares, as if it is her God given right to order me about. Maybe once upon a time it worked, but now, not so much. I feel brave being in Dorien’s world, and I need to channel that into dealing with my parents.
“And what exactly do we need to discuss?” I ask, knowing her next sentence before she’s even said it.
“When you are going to stop this charade and return to your husband.” And there it is, Team Derrick through and through.
“I’m not going back to him, Mum.”
“You bloody well are.”
“You can say that all you want, but it won’t make it come true.”
“If you do not go back to your rightful place, by your husband’s side, then you’ll be dead to me,” she spits, and I can imagine her red face and irate stance on the other end of the phone.
“Did you ever love me?” I ask, and the line goes silent for a moment. “I mean, you’ve always made it seem like you hate me, and I’ve always tried so hard to make you proud of me—hell, even to like me. So what did I do? Did I do something horrible when I was little that I can’t remember? Because I have no idea where all of this hate came from. I have no idea why you made me feel so much guilt, or why you pushed me into marrying a man I never loved.”
“Stop being so dramatic, Elise,” she says, but I hear the waver in her voice, so I push on, because I have a feeling this is going to be my only chance to be honest with her.
“I spent my whole life being belittled, being made to feel like I could do more, because it was what you wanted. And I never really understood what narcissistic behaviour you had until I walked away.”
“How dare you, you ungrateful little bitch,” she shouts, and if she were a bird, she’d have her chest all puffed up, raring for action. The thought almost makes me laugh.
“Prime example,” I say. “I just want to know, Mum, why you ever had me if you didn’t want me?”
“You know what, Elise, I have no idea,” she says, and unshed tears start to clog at the backs of my eyes. “I don’t think I could be more ashamed of you than I am right now.”
