Page 37 of Boss of Me
But it’s not just her sexy body I crave. I want to know the inner workings of her mind. She intoxicates me. Exasperates me. Fascinates me in ways no other woman ever has.
The background check I ran told me that she has decent credit, no unpaid traffic tickets, an outstanding academic record and generous charitable contributions despite her meager earnings. But it didn’t tell me her favorite color, her fondest childhood memory or the name of the first boy she kissed. It didn’t tell me where and when she lost her virginity, or why she hasn’t. It didn’t shed light on her obviously strained relationship with her mother.
In other words, it didn’t tell me the things I’m dying to know.
A deeper dive into her background will require the services of my private investigator. Though I’m highly tempted to call him, I’ve refrained from going that route. I already violated Marlowe’s trust by lying to her about my identity. If I want to get to know her better, I’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way: by earning her trust and respect.
Easier said than done, I muse wryly.
I feel half out of my mind whenever I’m around her. But I can’t stay away. She’s absolutely captivating, and I want more. So much fucking more.
Before I can stop myself, I’m pulling out my phone and making a call.
Chapter Ten
marlowe
Humming along to mozart’s piano concertoNo. 24, I push the vacuum cleaner across the billiard room floor. Just as the concerto floats into the third movement, my phone buzzes through my earbuds.
I turn off the vacuum and reach inside my apron pocket to dig the phone out. I tense when I see my sister’s face on the screen. We haven’t talked in a while because she’s been slammed at work, giving me a welcome reprieve from having to tell her about my new job.
Although I’m making ridiculously good money, I didn’t bust my ass for five years to earn a degree, only to end up working as a housekeeper. I’m not ready to break the news to Ember, but I’ve never been very good at lying to her. If I take her call, I’ll end up confessing everything and then she’ll try to talk me into moving back home. Which is so not happening.
I stare at my phone, fully intending to decline the call. But my brain misfires and I hit accept instead.
“Hey, you.” Ember’s warm smile fills the screen. She takes after our mother with dirty blond hair, sea green eyes and enviably high cheekbones.
“Hey, counselor,” I say, trying to sound normal. “Finally came up for air?”
“Just for lunch. Mom insisted.”
My stomach tightens. “Mom?”
“Yeah. She’s meeting me at the restaurant—wouldn’t take no for an answer. Anyway, I know you get off early on Fridays, so I thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.” Ember looks past my shoulder, curiosity brightening her eyes. “Where are you?”
“Just, um, visiting a friend.”
“Must be a rich friend, judging by the fancy décor.” Ember leans closer to the screen, peering at the wall behind me. “Is that a Jackson Pollock?”
“I don’t think so,” I lie, bringing my phone closer to block her view of the expensive painting.
She frowns at me. “Why are you acting so jumpy?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You seem nervous. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. You just caught me at a bad?—”
“Mom’s here now.” Ember sends me a silent apology with her eyes. “She wants to say hello.”
“What? No, wait, I have to?—”
Caroline Somerset’s face appears on the screen before I can bail. “Hello, darling.”
“Hey, Mom.” I try to smile, but my jaw is stiff. “How are you? How’s work?”
“Busy as ever, which means business is good.” She studies me, her eyes narrowed in appraisal. “Have you gained weight? Your face looks rounder.”
