Page 13 of Owning Emma

I made myself perfectly clear on that.

Yet, there she was, having those men eat out of her palm like she’s a fucking goddess, offering them cookies on a plate that she was slowly carrying around the room, making them melt to her fucking whim. She hadn’t offered me any, and shouldn’t I have been the first fucking person to get offered a cookie? It’s all about the chain of command. The king didn’t eat after the stable boy, did he? I didn’t fucking think so.

Emma approached Shaw, offering him one of her damn cookies, which he willingly took, biting into it with a look of pleasure. They chatted like friends while I sat alone. And why the fuck was I alone? Shouldn't I be the one surrounded by people?

I stretched my limbs out at my side a little, loosening the tension that had coiled in my muscles, then pushed my way through the hall, avoiding pool cues and beer bottles as I went. The men really were fucking slobs, completely untrained wild animals. But who was I to change that? Their habits weren’t my responsibility, only their work ethic.

When Shaw saw me approaching, the corner of his lip tipped up in a smile. Well, more like a secret smirk screaming, ‘It is about damn time,’ as if he knew I would come and was only waiting on the when. Usually, I wouldn’t mind if my right-hand man knew me so well, but tonight, it felt daunting, annoying, so damn frustrating that I almost wished he was more an enemy than a friend.

“Decided to socialize?” he asked when I was within hearing range.

“Decided I wanted a cookie before it was too late.” Which was the excuse I used, but it was a complete lie. I couldn’t care less about the damn cookie. I cared about what had them both so chummy suddenly and why Shaw hadn’t even mentioned this development.

Emma held the tray out toward me, offering me up one of the pastries. I grabbed a chocolate chip cookie, took a bite, and nearly died from heaven, before reaching over and grabbing a handful more of the cookies. Her eyebrows pulled together, “Isn’t that being a little greedy?”

“He’s always this greedy,” Shaw smirked, then quickly shoved a cookie in his mouth when I shot him a death glare. Sometimes he needed to learn when to keep his fucking mouth shut. Bringing bedroom jokes into a conversation with my employee? Well, that was one of those times.

She didn’t seem to catch his meaning, thankfully. Instead, she put the tray down at a nearby table before she started gathering cups that were left behind, stacking them in a tower. I leaned against the table, my arms crossed, my ankles crossed, my body relaxed. “How’s the work here treating you? Any of the boys giving you trouble?”

“They have been perfect angels. My boss and his friend are slobs, though.” She continued what she was doing while watching me out of the corner of her eyes.

I grunted. “It’s a good thing he pays you.”

“Not by choice,” she shot back. I get it, she was still probably bitter about the whole work arrangement, but whose fault was that, really? Not mine.

“I haven’t seen you around the house. Is there too much work for you? Do you need more downtime? I’m sure I could work something out with my mother to give you some space if you need it,” I offered, not wanting to be a complete troll of a boss. It was easy to forget that she didn’t just work for me, she was still working for her father as well, and I didn’t want her to be overworked.

“It’s fine.” Her response was clipped, and I got the feeling that I was annoying her, but I also didn’t care about being annoying. It was my place, and she worked for me; she could suffer through whatever annoyance she had until I was done with her.

I reached over and began piling napkins and garbage onto a plate that got left behind, pretending not to notice the side-eyed glare I was receiving. Shaw, taking the hint, brought over the trashcan and began tossing garbage from the table next to us. “You don’t have to spend your time shut up in your room. Have you explored the compound?”

“Some.” What the fuck did I even do? This girl was already getting on my nerves, and I was just trying to be friendly, figure out how her week’s going.

“Okay, well, don’t be a stranger is all I’m saying. You’re one of us now, that means every one of my guys will help you out, stick up for you, make sure you have what you need. All you have to do is ask.”

“Hell, you don’t even have to ask, I’ll give you anything, Sugar,” Shaw piped in, his eyes zooming in on her chest, standing perky under her long-sleeve shirt.

“Do you want to watch yourself, fucker?” I said in his direction, but he just grinned, continuing his appraisal and completely ignoring me.

“You know, you don’t have to hover over me. I’m capable of cleaning up here myself without a babysitter.” She chucked the cups into the trash and gathered the beer bottles for the recycling.

She was missing the point; she shouldn’t have to. These boys needed to be responsible for themselves. If she needed help cleaning, she needed to open her fucking mouth and say so. If she ran out of something, send one of these fuckers to the store to get it. It was not about being capable; it was about courtesy, something the men apparently lacked.

“I wasn’t babysitting you, Emma.”

The bottles clicked together in her hand. “Really? Because it seems to me that you were. The moment I started having any conversation tonight, you prance over here like a panther set on its prey, stopping me in my tracks.”

“So, what? I’m not allowed to check up on my employee, one who is staying under my roof, and make sure she is doing well?”

Her eyes rolled so far back into her head, I was sure I wouldn’t ever see the greens again. “The ideal time to check up on an employee would have been on the first or second day when I felt like a deer in headlights. Not after I’ve finally learned the ropes.”

“Oh, so I see you’ve read the employee manual then? It does give a fine outline of all monitorial duties.” My own sarcasm was coming through.

“I wish, only legit businesses have manuals.” She tossed a look over her shoulder, daring me to release my temper and prove whatever type of point she was making.

“You don’t think our businesses are legit?” I had my arms crossed, staring at her again. Trying to fight the urge to pin her against the table and dare her to smart mouth me again.

“They never are. Not with places like these. You may think for some weird, crazy, outrageous reason you are protecting me by giving me this job, but you’re not. None of you are. If anything, I’m in more danger because I’m here. So, thank you for that. Thanks to whatever illegal dilly-dally you and my father were wrapped up in, I now have to suffer.”

She turned on her heels, bottles in hand, and marched off, leaving me standing there completely baffled. Sure, it was upsetting that she thought so little of me; she would assume I would do things illegally. But that wasn’t her fault. I hadn’t given her reason to believe otherwise. But dilly-dally? Who the hell said that?

---