Page 30 of House Rules
I sit there,frozen, for hours. I’ve tried several times to ask where I should be, or to move forward, but Storm either throws a knife at me again or one of the other men glare at me, and I’m forced back against the wall.
Eventually, a maid comes to get me. I’m assuming she only works the Titans’ suite, as her French-maid inspired outfit is completely topless, and its tiny skirt, apron, and fishnet thigh highs are definitelynotstandard issue.
“Hey, let me show you around,” she says as she takes my hand and drags me through the room. At least this time, I don’t get a knife or anything else thrown at me.
“This is the main common room.” She waves a hand, indicating the room around us. “There are two, one more of which is set up a little….differently.” Her voice gets high and a little squeaky as she explains.
“Differently?” I ask
“I’m sure you’ll see it soon enough,” she says with a tight smile. “Each of the boys has their own room” —she points to several closed doors in succession— “and you have your own room, as well.”
“This place is insane.” I say, taking in my lavish surroundings.
“The resort has a few condo suites like this. Usually they’re for high rollers, and they come with their own staff, but the guys have had their own space together…I think since high school…especially when their parents aren’t around.”
My lips twist. If I ever have children and they raise hell the way these guys do, I doubt my solution would be to reward them with a party suite. Then again, I’m not the kind of person who has more money than God. So what do I know?
The maid stops in front of a door and half-turns to me as she opens it. “This is your room.” I hesitate before stepping over the threshold into a small antechamber with a love seat, end table, and television. An arched doorway beyond leads into the bedroom.
“All of this is mine?”
She nods and continues. “Your new wardrobe has already been put away, and you have your own en suite. Of course.”
Of course.
Like it’s standard issue or something. She runs through everything—the clothes, the amenities, the perks—like all of this is normal. Like I’m not looking at one of the most luxurious spaces I have ever had in my entire life.
A lump forms in my throat, and I trail my fingers over the heavy velvet duvet covering the bed. I have no delusions that I won’t have earned every square foot of these rooms before the year is over.
Granted, this room isn’t as nice as some of the other suites that I have cleaned, and I’m sure each of the boys’ rooms are even more luxurious. Still…it’s so much more than what I expected, and light years beyond what I’ve ever had for myself.
I wonder if anyone would notice if I sneaked Scrappy in? He deserves a nice place, too. My chest aches, thinking about him peeping up through the hole in the floor and wondering where I’ve disappeared to.
I try to make a fist and fail, sharp pain shooting through my wrist with the gesture. I can’t risk leaving the safety of the resort. Not right now.
The maid shifts her weight, her gaze on me filled with a mix of sympathy and jealousy. “I’m going to head out and let you get settled. If I were you, I’d get cleaned up and changed. You’re going to have a long night.” She gives me a crooked smile and a half-shrug, like she knows what is in store for me and knows there’s no way to stop it.
Before I can ask her what she means, she turns on her heel and leaves, closing the door behind her. I drop my duffle onto the floor in the corner and go to the closet to check out what my new uniform looks like. I send up a quick prayer that I won’t be in my own French maid costume, but the words die on my lips at what I see in the closet.
It’s so much worse.
The closet is full of hangers that each have tiny scraps of fabric hanging off of them. There are several bikinis, a few dresses that have absolutely no fabric and are basically chains linked in the vague shape of a dress. All the other dresses are beyond skimpy, with short skirts, low or no backs, and all the cleavage-baring necklines. More than a few of the tops have slits down the front that will give glimpses of my tits and my navel.
From the looks of my ‘uniform,’ they basically want me naked the entire time I’m here.
Lifting my gaze heavenward, I lift a hand to squeeze the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. This has Con stamped all over it. He knows I’ve always been more comfortable in sweatpants and T-shirts. He knows this will be torture for me.
“Like your new wardrobe, little firebird?” A deep voice comes from behind me, and I freeze as though I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Maverick. I recognize his voice. How can a man that big sneak up on people so easily?
“I picked it out myself,” he says into my ear, his breath ghosting down the delicate skin of my neck.I fight back the shiver that wants to course through me at the sensation.
“What if I’m not comfortable wearing any of this?” I turn to face him, ignoring the way his proximity turns my knees to spaghetti.
“It’s in the contract, firebird. You don’t have a choice. You can wear the clothes in that closet, or nothing at all. Either option is fine where I’m concerned, of course.” Holding my gaze as he backs away, he makes himself comfortable by lying in the middle of the bed.
His gaze skims over my body, pausing on my poorly bandaged wrist. “What happened there?”
I flinch at the anger threading the question and tuck my arm closer to my body in an aborted attempt to hide it. “Nothing. I was clumsy…dropped something on it.”
