Page 95 of The Widower
“I don’t know… maybe we just like each other.”
Yeah, I know. Worst possible answer—and childish, too.
“I don’t have feelings for you.”
He grabbed me, one hand sliding into my hair, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Really?”
“Dead serious.”
Then his other hand traced over my skin near my stomach, slowly moving upward…
“What you’re doing right now seems a little contradictory, don’t you think?”
He stared at me, exhaling deeply.
“You’re right. Better stop. Good work today.”
And just like that, he walked away—leaving me talking to myself.
Colin Adams, you son of a…
My work hadn’t gone particularly well after what Colin did to me.
I couldn’t stop replaying that scene in my head—and wondering how the hell I’d let something like that happen inside his mansion. The shame hit me only now.
I was sitting in the kitchen, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought about what awaited me.
“You seem deep in thought.”
I jumped in my chair when I realized Colin was standing there, watching me.
“Just… stuff.”
“I see.”
It was hard to look him in the eye.I wanted to start a conversation, but hesitation got the best of me.
“How was your workday?”
“Good,” he said.“Made good progress on the design for James’s mansion.”
“I see. So… what exactly do you do every two weeks when you leave this place?” It was a random question—and a risky one. But honestly, I didn’t care. Every time he came back from those absences, he seemed like a different man.
“What kind of answer do you want? The normal one or the patient one?”
“The patient one.”
“I deal with a few things from my past.”
“And what would the normal version sound like?”
“Something along the lines of: it’s none of your business what I do or don’t do; you work for me, not the other way around; I don’t owe you any explanations.” He said it calmly, without anger.
“I don’t even need to say which one I prefer.”
“Then don’t push your luck. You’ve been here long enough to know I don’t have much patience to begin with.”
