Page 54 of Filthy Rich Bosses

“It’s a metaphor. They’ll try to raise the price if you come looking like that. I need slob, not suave.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. You win. But you're not getting rid of me that easy. I’ll be back in five.”

As I walk toward the hallway, I hear Douglas’s voice from behind me.

“I trust you’re not getting any funny ideas, Miss Tessa.”

I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe with his usual, knowing smirk. His sharp eyes catch mine with that touch of concern I’ve come to expect from him.

“Funny ideas?” I raise an eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean?”

Douglas straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest like he always does when he’s about to deliver some kind of dry wisdom. “I’m simply ensuring you’re not sneaking off without proper company, Miss Tessa. Grayson would not appreciate being left in the dark, and I’m quite certain you’re not planning on going anywhere unaccompanied.” His voice is warm but firm, with that unmistakable British edge that always makes it sound like he’s seen the situation a hundred times before.

I roll my eyes, but it’s more out of habit than annoyance. “I can take care of myself, Douglas.”

Douglas tilts his head slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “While I’m certain that is true, it is my job to look after this home and the people in it. But I do know when to turn a blind eye, as it were.”

I give him a wry look. “So, you’re going to help me sneak off?”

Douglas raises an eyebrow, the only outward sign of surprise. “I do not condone breaking the rules, Miss Tessa. But I also know when your mind is made up.” His gaze softens just a fraction. “I trust this is not about anything...troublesome, yes?”

“No,” I answer, though my voice falters for just a moment. “I can’t rely on them. My contract is almost up and I need somewhere to live. But what I can afford and what they’re used to…it’s not the same. They won’t understand.”

Douglas nods, though I can tell he's not entirely convinced. “Very well, then. But if I may offer a piece of advice—take care of yourself out there. It’s not always so simple when one is trying to stand on their own.”

I offer him a faint smile, appreciative of the concern, but it feels like it’s not enough. “I’ll be fine, Douglas. I’m not asking for help. I don’t need it.”

He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching, before he finally gives a curt nod. “I’ll ensure Mr. Chase is distracted, then. Don’t make me regret this, Miss Tessa.”

"Thanks, Douglas," I murmur as I head toward the stairs. "I’ll be back before you know it."

As I ascend the stairs, I hear the distinct sound of Douglas’s footsteps trailing behind me for a moment. "And Miss Tessa," he calls softly. "Be careful."

I pull up to the dilapidated building, my heart sinking as I take in the peeling paint and one or two boarded-up windows. The stench of garbage wafts from overflowing dumpsters, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"Well, this is...charming," I mutter to myself, clutching my phone tighter as I approach the entrance.

Beggars can’t be choosers. This is what I’m used to. Staying with Grayson and his gang of ridiculously rich friends was a vacation in la-la land. It wasn’t reality. This…this is reality.

A man with greasy hair and yellowed teeth emerges from the shadows. "You must be Tessa," he says, his eyes roving over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.

"That's me," I reply, forcing a smile. "You're the manager?"

He nods, fishing out a set of keys. "Follow me, sweetheart. I'll show you the place."

As we climb the creaky stairs, I can't help but think,This is it. This is what rock bottom looks like. But it's either this or sleeping in my car. Although, with the stench maybe that’s the preferable option.

The apartment is as bad as I feared—stained carpets, mysterious odors, and a kitchenette that looks like it hasn't been cleaned since the Reagan administration.

"So, what do you think?" the manager asks, leaning against the doorframe and blocking my exit.

I swallow hard, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. "I'll, uh, think about it and get back to you."

“Don’t wait too long, girlie. It's a steal at this price. It won’t be available long.”

As I drive back to Grayson's, my mind races. There were a few other options. But without a job to put down, it doesn’t matter. I have plenty of money from this contract with Grayson—he way overpaid me. But it will only go so far without continuous income to report.

Maybe I could stay in one of those extended stay motels until I found something…

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