Page 85 of What Did Your Last Maid Die Of?

“I heard you!” I shouted. “You wanted Travis to fire me because he was the reason I was hired ’cause he’s friends with Finn.”

“What?” He shook his head, and then he stilled. “Awww…oh, Polly.” He smirked. “Trust you to get it wrong.”

“Get what wrong? I heard what I heard!” I punched him in the arm. “Don’t try and gaslight me.”

“I’m not gaslighting you.” He chuckled and sighed. “You are going to be the death of me, Polly Campbell. I only hope I go while we are making love.”

“We will never make love again.” I glared at him. “Jerk.”

“Polly,” he said patiently. “Did you hear me saying your name this morning?”

“Huh?” I scratched my face. “What are you talking about?”

“When you were eavesdropping on my call this morning, did you hear me say your name?”

I thought for a moment and tried to remember what I’d heard. “Uhm, maybe not. But who cares? I know you were talking about me.”

“Oh, but I wasn’t, sweet Polly.” He shook his head and sat down on the bed. “I wasn’t talking about you at all.”

“Then who were you talking about?” I glared at him and the cocky expression on his face. “I know you weren’t talking about Natasha.”

“Of course not. Tracy says Natasha is an amazing intern.” He smiled, and I filed that information away for later to tell Natasha. “Polly, Polly, Polly, what am I going to do with you?”

“Take me home and never call me again.” I glared at him. “I’m so over you.”

“Also, by the way, when I said I wanted you to quit, it was because I wanted to hire you for another company of mine instead.” He smirked. “And so you’d still be my assistant, just in another capacity.”

“What are you talking about?” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to confuse me or not, but my brain was starting to feel frazzled.

“Travis and I were talking about Boobie,” he said in a frustrated tone. “The receptionist at the firm.”

“You were talking about Boobie?” Suddenly, a light went off in my head. “How did she get the job? ’Cause she was sleeping with you or Travis?”

“No.” He shuddered, and I felt an immediate sigh of relief. “Neither Travis nor I are interested in Boobie, though she has made many attempts to seduce us both.” He held his hands up quickly. “I didn’t take her up on any of her offers,” he said. “Not even when she pulled her tits out and said I could titty-fuck her for lunch.”

“What?” My jaw dropped, and he nodded.

“Boobie slept with Travis’s older brother about six months ago.” He sighed. “She started getting too attached, and she’d just lost her job, so Billy asked Travis to hire her as a receptionist. We didn’t think it would be too bad, but she’s totally inappropriate, and several people have filed HR claims against her. She’s a nice girl, and I feel bad for her, but I was being honest when I said I won’t miss her not working there. She’s kinda ridiculous, and she’s bad at her job, and she’s opening us up for many sexual harassment claims.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me onto his lap. “Do you believe me now, Polly?”

“I guess,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed. I’d totally gotten it wrong. I made a mental note to never become a detective. I would suck.

“Is that it?” He grinned as he kissed the side of my neck. “No apology?”

“You still want me to quit.” I pouted at him. “That’s still hurtful.”

“I want you to quit the law firm,” he said, pulling on my hair. “But I want you to take a position with my publishing company instead. I want you to help me with literary deals while you work on your own projects. And if you want to go for an MFA, I want to give you a scholarship.” His fingers ran down my back. “Though selfishly, I don’t want you to go away for an MFA.”

“Why not?” I asked, breathing deeply as I touched the side of his face.

“Because I don’t want to go a day without seeing you and making love to you,” he said hoarsely as his eyes took me in. “I love you, Polly Campbell. I love everything about you. And I don’t want to go a day in my life without having you in it. The fact that you thought I wanted you out of my life is crazy. I want the opposite. I want you in it every hour of the day.”

“That might be a few too many hours.” I giggled as my heart leaped for joy. “Maybe eight hours a day.”

“I’ll take any time I can get,” he said, holding my face in his hands and kissing me softly. “I love you, Polly Campbell. More than words can say.” He stared at me for a few seconds and then frowned. “Are you not going to say anything?”

“Like what?” I asked innocently and then laughed as he groaned.

“Polly! Really?”

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