Page 5 of Colton
I finish polishing the cabinet and rearrange the ornaments exactly how they were before spraying the large mirror with my cleaning spray. I attack it with gusto, wiping it until it gleams. Sweat prickles at my brow, and I curse missing my workouts this past week. My fitness is slipping.
“You missed a bit.”
He’s still fucking here.
I whip around to see he hasn’t moved a muscle, the lazy grin tugging at the corners of his lips telling me he’s pleased he’s pissed me off.
“Don’t you have video games to play? Girls to fuck?” I arch a brow and watch with satisfaction as his eyes narrow.
Good. I don’t want his fanciful fantasies about fucking the maid.
Because this maid has a job to do.
He says nothing, but his gaze never leaves me, tracking my every move like a predator sizing up its prey. It’s not just arrogance—I can feel something darker in the way he watches, something deeper he won’t let slip. He’s testing me, waiting for a sign of weakness. But I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
“My father employed you, didn’t he?”
I begin cleaning the Venetian blinds and pay him no attention. But he’s right, and you don’t need to be a genius to figure outwhyhis father recruited me above all the other girls.
One, I’m the youngest at twenty-one. That went in my favor. Two, I’m exactly his type. Three, I was cheap and came with excellent references. Four, I may have hinted I found older men alluring during my interview.
“But you’re not a natural blonde.”
I still, but then regain my composure. Fuck him and his observations. He’s just a boy, the son of the man I intend to bring to his knees in more ways than one.
“And you’re tiny. Easy to overpower.”
I bite back my laughter, and he continues.
“Fuckable. But too fuckable.”
I cast a look over my shoulder, making sure to part my lips as I widen my eyes. His stare unnerves me, like he's trying to peel away my skin and look beneath at the real me. There's something almost predatory lurking in his gaze, and I shudder before he pushes off from the doorframe.
“Not my type?” he muses, his voice dripping with false consideration. “No...too predictable.” His lips curl into a slow, mocking smile, but his gaze still lingers, betraying the words. “Or maybe you’re exactly my type, and I just don’t want to admit it.”
Why do I feel like he's assessing me, almost like one would a menu before ordering their main meal? Why did it feel like he was lying to himself more than to me?
Then he walks away, and would you believe, he doesn’t even look back?
I hum to myself and store the information away. He wants me, and that’s just perfect. Because if I can get a little father and son rivalry going on, my plan will work out better than I anticipated. Still, I can't shake the memory of his gaze.What's his deal?
It can't be easy being the only son of a monster, not that I care.
I finish polishing the room and pause when I hear heavy footsteps on the hallway, then hushed voices.
Daddy’s home.
I wonder what his son is telling him. That he needs to fire the new maid because her attitude stinks?
I sure hope not.
I grab my box of cleaning stuff and fix a blank look on my face, hoping all those drama classes paid off. I have to be the dutiful, if not somewhat docile, maid. Blank expressions and wide eyes, stupid grins and fluttering my lashes are all part and parcel of that.
But I can’t push away the sting of irritation needling my side. Colton, the bastard's son, seemed to see through me. Sure, he guessed I wasn’t a natural blonde, but my browsarepretty dark. He also said I wastoofuckable, and that pissed me right off.
He shouldn’t know a damn thing about me, so now I need to make it my mission to know much more about him.
As I slip into the hallway, I see Colton facing his father, the only physical likeness is the strong jaw and height, otherwise you’d never know they were father and son. His father, Xavier Blackwood, stops mid-sentence to look at me. His gaze creeps over me like ivy, and I remember my role.
