Page 6 of Accidentally Yours

Damien

“Good morning, Connie.” I strolled into the kitchen and over to the coffee maker.

“Good morning, Damien. I was surprised when I walked in and saw the mess.”

“I apologize for that. Rebecca and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“No shock there.” She chuckled, and I shot her a look. “Don’t you look at me like that, Damien. You know it’s the truth. I’ve worked for you since you moved into this place five years ago. I know how you operate.”

“I don’t need a lecture—not today.”

“Then I’ll wait until tomorrow.” She smiled.

“Thank you.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I have to get to the office.”

“And I have a house to clean.”

I hired Connie because she was in her early 50s, smart, and someone who didn’t put up with my bullshit. When she told me she was no longer interested in working for me after I interviewed her, I knew she’d be perfect for the job. So, I sweetened the deal, and she couldn’t refuse. It was better to hire someone older to keep my temptations at bay. The last thing I needed was to be attracted to my housekeeper and fuck things up. I didn’t plan on her becoming one of my best friends and confidants. She was a wise woman with a lot of life experience and offered some good advice over the years. She didn’t judge me, or at least, I thought she didn’t.

I was heading to my office when Charlie emerged from his.

“Morning.” He hooked his arm around me.

“Morning.” I glanced at him.

“How was your night with Rebecca last night?” He followed me into my office.

“I broke it off with her.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the date. “Yep. It’s about that time,” he said. “Did she slap you across the face?” He pointed to the cheek that caught the brunt of it.

“Yep. She sure did.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m sad because you know I really didn’t care for Rebecca anyway. She was too snotty and thought she was better than everyone else. You need to find more of a—how do I put this? More of a lower-class woman.”

“What are you talking about?” I furrowed my brows.

“The women you date are higher class. They’re full of plastic, Botox, and everything that makes them unnatural. That’s why you get bored so fast. These women kiss and have their heads shoved so far up your ass. They live to make you happy.”

“Knock it off.” I sighed.

“It’s the truth, and you know it.”

“And lower-class women would use me just for my status and money,” I said. “No thanks.”

“Just some food for thought, my friend.” A smirk crossed his lips. “I’ll see you later.”

Turning my chair around, I stared out at the city. I grew tired of people telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. Ever since my father’s passing, I’d felt this rage inside me. He wasn’t even sick. I had just left his home a few hours before the heart attack killed him: no signs, no warnings, nothing. One day, he was perfectly fine, and the next, he was dead. He died alone, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive myself for that. We looked out for each other like a father and son should. He was always there for me, and I for him.

“Excuse me, Damien?” Christine’s voice echoed throughout my office.

Turning my chair around, I looked at her.

“What is it, Christine?”

“Here are the reports you asked for.”

“Thanks. Just set them on my desk.”

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