Page 21 of Stalker

Chapter 8 – Peyton

“What are you doing?”

I jumped a mile, pulling my panties off the counter in front of me and crumpled them up in my hand as I turned around to face Mr. Bryce where he stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Bryce.” I gasped, trying to figure out exactly what I was going to say to get out of my latest fuck up. “I’m folding clothes.” Thank god I’d pulled my skirt back down before I sent the picture to Dane. Fuck, that would have been even worse.

“What’s that?” He crossed his arms over his enormous chest and nodded to my hand pinned behind me against the counter like it wasn’t making it obvious I was hiding something.

“Nothing.” I whispered, shaking my head as I looked around me. The hamper I used to bring the clothes up from the laundry room was to my right. If I could grab it without dropping my panties, I could use the handle to conceal them and get the fuck out. “I’m all set in here. I have to go start lunch.”

“Ms. Everett.” He snapped, and my heart nearly beat out of my chest. “What is behind your back?”

“Nothing,” I repeated, taking a step to the right.

“I won’t have a thief in my home. Show me.” He stepped to the right, and then took one toward me, blocking me completely.

“I didn’t steal.” I shook my head quickly. “It’s just a girl thing.” I tried grasping at straws to come up with a reason not to have to show him my panties.

“Give it here!” He held his hand out and my eyes widened in horror. “Now. Or you’re fired.”

“Sir,” I pleaded, begging God and any other divine entity to get me out of the mess, but he was unwavering.

“Fine, you give me no choice,” He shook his head disappointedly.

“No!” I cried and shoved my hand forward and into his, dropping my crumpled panties into his palm and then covering my mouth as I shook like a leaf.

His eyes fell to his palm, and I expected him to act as though the fabric burned him once he realized what they were, given how disgusted he acted that night on the pool deck. What I didn’t expect, though, was for him to hook his fingers into the band and uncrumpled them so he could see exactly what he was holding.

“Mr. Bryce,” I tried again, silently begging the floor to open up and swallow me whole. “It’s not what it looks like.”

His dark eyes snapped up to mine, finally leaving my panties, though he continued to hold on to them. “It looks like you were caught masturbating.Again.”

“No!” I cried, shaking my head, “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” He cocked his head to the side, fisting my panties in his hand and staring at me unwaveringly.

“I—” I panicked and said the first thing that came to my mind. “They were uncomfortable. So I was trying to adjust them and then you walked in and—”

“Adjust them?” He glared at me and I tried not to cry. Fuck, I really did not want to cry in front of him.

“Yeah,” I brushed a lock of hair back behind my ear. “I promise I wasn’t—” Do not say the word. You cannot say that word to your boss. “I was just adjusting them.”

He clenched his jaw and then held his hand out between us, dropping my panties into my hand and watching me closely. “Strike two, Ms. Everett. You’re on thin ice.”

“Yes, Sir.” I dropped my head and grabbed the basket from the floor, eager to leave now that it seemed he was dismissing me. “I’m sorry Sir. It won’t happen again.” And then I ran. I ran so fucking fast my bare ass could have been flapping in the wind behind me, yet I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting the fuck out of Lincoln Bryce’s presence. Maybe I didn’t have what it took to be his housekeeper after all.

But I was so not ready to go back home with my tail tucked between my legs so I had to get my act together and impress my boss.

Idrove through the quaint town, searching for the post office to collect the package that was sent to me. I should be figuring outhow to come face to face with Mr. Bryce again after my absolute horrific experience earlier in his closet.

Instead, I was getting sex mail from a stalker.

Great life choices, P. You’re really proving to everyone that you’re an adult.

I parked and jumped out of my car, eager to get back to the mansion before my break was over, I did not need something else to pile on top of my list of offenses.

The post office was small, as expected, and a lady who looked older than the building stood up from her desk behind the counter when I walked in. “Hello, dear.” She smiled brightly. “Let me guess, Peyton Everett.”

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