Page 2 of His Little Sapphire

I smile broader. “So, I’ve got the job?”

He groans. “I suppose.”

“Thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down. You can check my references. I’m always prompt. I never miss work.” I hope he doesn’t feel the need to check my references though. If he calls my previous employer, he’ll find out I’m still working for them. I need both jobs. I’d rather not explain myself. It’s no one’s business.

I have few skills, but I’ve been cleaning up after people my entire life. I know how to make any building sparkle. I won’t mess this up. I can’t.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” he murmurs. “Can you start Monday?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Yes. Thank you, God. If there really is a God, at least he’s looking out for me today.

ChapterOne

Strogan

“Can’t sleep?”

I turn around at the sound of Bialar’s voice, careful to surreptitiously block the computer screen I’ve been staring at. I give an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah. I’ve heard they call it jetlag here.” I chuckle. “I think it has more to do with the fact that the days aren’t the length we’re used to.”

Bialar nods. “I agree. Combined with the stress of finding a mate.” He points to the computer monitor behind me. “What are you staring at so intently? It’s five in the morning. The club is closed. Are you watching the empty dance floor?” he jokes.

I’ve known Bialar for years. He owns a lumber company, and I get all my wood from him for my furniture business. It’s symbiotic and convenient that we’ve become good friends over the decades. We even chose to come to Earth to find a mate at the same time.

Bialar’s company can manage without him for a year. He has plenty of staff and a partner. Mine is on hold. If anyone needs a dresser, a crib, or any number of pieces, they either have to find it among the stock I left behind or wait.

I hedge and decide to confess. “The dance floor isn’t exactly empty.”

He lifts a brow. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a female who cleans after hours.”

A slow smile grows on his face. “Oh?”

I shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I just…” I draw in a breath. “I like watching her for some reason.” For lots of reasons. She intrigues me. Perhaps that’s ridiculous. After all, we’re meant to choose a mate from the females who visit the club when it’s open. Not the staff.

There was no mention of the staff anywhere in our contract though. Nothing that specifically states we can’t claim anyone who enters the building.

I seriously doubt this female cleaning the club when it’s closed realizes she could be watched from the second-floor control room. I feel a bit like I’m invading her privacy every time I sit and watch her. But I can’t stop myself.

I’ve been watching this female for several nights. She’s a hard worker for someone as small as she is. Strong. Efficient. What she lacks in size, she makes up for in ingenuity.

I cringe every time she climbs a ladder to reach elevations above her head. She does so to clean the upper shelves behind the bar and to wipe off the walls all around the club where fingers have rubbed against the glossy paint all night.

This female works herself to the bone. Some nights, she looks exhausted. Tonight she’s seemed particularly tired. She has paused several times to rub her brow and take deep breaths. She leaned over her broom handle for a few minutes once, and I swear she was napping standing up.

I’ve fought the urge to go downstairs dozens of times. I don’t even know why I watch her. I’ve only had a few glimpses of her face. She wears a cap pulled low on her head. I’ve never seen her eyes. Her hair is mostly tucked up under the cap. I don’t know how long it is, but I can tell it’s brown.

She wears baggy clothes that hide her figure, but I know she’s slight. Even for a human, she’d be considered petite. Compared to my seven-foot-five-inch, broad frame, she’s dainty.

“You going to let me see her, or are you hiding her?” Bialar asks.

I rub my temples. “I don’t know.”

He smiles. “It’s okay. I get it. But why not just go down there and face her. Then you’ll know once and for all. If she’s yours, fantastic. If she’s not, you can stop watching her clean in the middle of the night.”

He’s right. I turn back around, not trying to hide the monitor. It’s not necessary. If she’s mine, he won’t likely be interested in her anyway. I lean my chin on my palm and locate her once again on a damn ladder behind the bar.

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