Page 69 of A Thin Line

“SILENCE!” I nearly lost my breath at his vehemence. “‘d) The Employee will not enter floors 2 and 3 of the East Wing of the Residence.’ Would you like to try arguing that what I saw was an illusion?”

“No, but—”

“‘The Employee will not use items that aren’t owned by the Employee without permission, including when said items are used for the performance of work.’ You were not given permission to use these keys.”

“Okay, fine, I violated several clauses of your dumb contract.” Where the hell had that come from? “But I don’t see what the big deal is about the east wing second floor anyway. All that’s up there are bedrooms. It’s like they’re frozen in time. I don’t get what the point—”

He stood again, almost as if sitting down didn’t allow him to release his anger. “The point, Ms. Miller, isn’t what’s up there. The point is that you expressly violated several terms of our agreement. You are in breach of the contract.” He tossed it to the desk in disgust.

“Oh, yeah? Well, what about you?” I said, standing as well, snatching it up and scanning through the Employer Obligations section again—and, unfortunately, there wasn’t a single thing I could accuse him of—at least, nothing in writing. When I looked up, his lips were curled in a smug smile, and it made me angry with myself that I found him so captivating at that moment. “Maybe if you’d just tell me why I shouldn’t go up there, I wouldn’t.”

“You shouldn’t go up there because I said so!”

“Don’t ever have kids. You’d be a horrible father. That’s the worst way to tell your kids not to do something.”

“You are not a child. Although I’m beginning to think you could use a good spanking.”

My cheeks flamed—and not just because he was comparing me to a child. I hoped he couldn’t tell that the thought of him touching me below the waist in any capacity was not hitting me the way it should. And I couldn’t find any other words, so I simply glared, folding my arms across my chest, hoping I looked defiant rather than expectant.

For just a moment, though…I thought that he was thinking he might like that too. Before I could test that theory, he spoke again, making me wonder if what I’d seen in his eyes had only been my imagination.

“I’m fairly certain James would advise against that—but he would agree that you are in serious breach of contract—and that will require punishment.”

Now that I knew for certain that a breach of contract didn’t mean harm to my father or sending me back to Winchester to await trial, I felt much more confident. “Fine. Then spank me and get it over with.” I hoped my eyes blazed like his.

There was something there I’d triggered, some shadow that passed over his eyes, but I couldn’t quite figure out what that was. I kept my chin jutted out just like the naughty child he’d accused me of being.

But his voice, now calm, was icy. “Your punishment won’t be quite so easy. Come with me.”

This time, we walked down the antechamber toward the front of the house and I wondered what he could possibly have in store for me.

I should have known his actual punishment for me wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as part of me imagined. Once outside, he’d tracked down Henry and had me pulling tiny weeds inside the flower beds. Because I liked Henry and I was no stranger to pulling weeds, it wasn’t so bad. Henry and I talked while he “supervised” until he announced it was time for him to go.

When we reported back to Sinclair, Henry told him I’d completed my tasks and he was leaving for the day. Although Sinclair was civil with Henry, it was clear that his anger with me hadn’t been mollified in the least.

Since I’d last seen him, he’d changed into casual clothes—a blue polo that made his eyes light up, the sleeves emphasizing the swell of his biceps and the definition of his pecs underneath. I reminded myself I was supposed to be angry with him.

After Henry left, he said, “That was only the beginning of your punishment. It will resume Monday morning.”

“And what—”

“I haven’t figured it out yet. But I believe a week of hard, demeaning labor should knock the defiance out of you.”

“And yet you still haven’t—”

“Would you like me to make it two weeks?”

I got ready to snap again but then clenched my jaw shut. No, I did not want that—because, even though I knew I could survive pulling weeds and cleaning bathrooms, I was actually enjoying the work downstairs. It felt meaningful and rewarding and it was something I looked forward to.

It was the only thing that made my life here bearable—and I dreaded the day when I would be done working down there. Between now and then, I’d have to find some other task to suggest. I considered asking if I could be in charge of the gallery, but there was no way that would be a full-time job.

“In the meantime, try to enjoy your weekend.” Still, I stood there, trying to communicate defiance through silence. But when he next spoke, I decided not to press my luck. “You’re dismissed.”

I went upstairs and showered, feeling dirty and sticky from the overbearing heat outside. As the water washed over me, my thoughts turned dirty in a different way, while I imagined the beads of water flickering down my breasts as his tongue.

Oh, I had to stop this.

He obviously didn’t have those feelings for me—and, if he did think about me in any sort of sexual way, I knew it would be what I’d heard two male students in College Algebra talking about one day before the instructor arrived. I’d known them from high school when they’d both been on the football team, and they’d been talking about our senior year and one of the cheerleaders they loved to hate. One of them said, “She was the best hate-fuck I ever had.”

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