Page 56 of For You, Sir

This is why people have sex at night instead of in the middle of the afternoon!

I wrapped a towel around my waist. Without waiting for a response, I slipped out of the bathroom to get dressed, and Einar followed, nude.

“I’ll, uhm, go make something to eat,” I said, picking up my shirt from the floor. My eyes fell to his soft penis, and I marveled,I’ve had that inside me.

“No need.” Einar sidled up behind me while I dressed and slid an arm across my chest. “Come watch a movie with me instead.”

“I can’t now, Sir. I’m on the clock.”

“What if that was an order?” He smirked roguishly and hugged my waist. “Isn’t the customer always right?”

I smiled a little and nodded. I wouldn’t have to feel guilty as long as Sirorderedme to watch movies with him. Though it still seemed weird to get paid for it.Maybe I should submit for time off…

His expression sobered. “You sure? You look conflicted.”

“No, I’m just not used to it,” I said. “It’s an unusual order.”

Einar raised a puzzled eyebrow at me as we headed toward the rec room. “You never had a client invite you to be player 2 in a videogame?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “Even when clients want to chat, they’re usually looking for a sounding board for their own opinions.” Even Madam had been a little selfish like that, if I were honest. I enjoyed our afternoon teas in the rose garden, but I was an audience for her nostalgic stories, not a true conversation partner.

Einar swung open the door to the rec room, revealing a high-ceilinged den, painted in warm, masculine grays. A projector TV screen dominated the far wall, encircled by enough plush couches to seat a dozen people. On the other side of the room stood a pool table, a beer fridge, and an electric guitar with an amp. The walls were decorated with authentic movie props from Einar’s favorite films, and obscure achievement awards he’d earned early in his career.

As Einar’s mental health improved, he’d come here more and more often—practicing his guitar, or sprawling on the couch while chatting with his sister on the phone. I’d begun to associate the room with Sir’s recovery—a solarium for the soul.

Best of all, he was showing interest in movies again. I’d catch him watching the latest Cannes Film Festival nominees, and leaning forward in rapt attention. He’d chew his thumbnail in the dark, muttering to himself how the directorshould haveframed a certain shot.

Now, Einar invited me to share his private space for the first time. He flopped down on an enormous plush couch and patted the cushion beside him.

“Guess it’s time we ditched this butler-client dynamic, huh?” Einar said, as I took a seat beside him.

He said it in a friendly tone, but my stomach plummeted. Was it that easy for him to give up our eight-hour days together?

“Oh,” I said in a doubtful tone. “I guess so.”

“Isn’t that better for you?” he asked. “I thought being butler and boyfriend—”

(Boyfriend!)

“—at the same time would put you in a tough spot,” Einar finished. “I can tell the studio to quit on me. Or send someone else.”

I frowned, unwilling to admit defeat about Einar’s writing. Pressure from the studio had been an ideal excuse to keep pushing him.

“What’s wrong?” Einar asked, perplexed. “We can still see each other outside work hours.”

“But Ilikebeing your butler,” I said in a quiet voice. “I’d miss spending my days with you.” I could let him go if he returned to making movies on-set, but if he was lounging around the house during his days, I preferred to be at his side.

He furrowed his brow and scratched his fingers through his hair. “If you’re sure,” he said doubtfully. “I thought the lack of work-life boundaries might drive you crazy.”

It did, but not enough that I wanted to stop. I’d even foolishly looked up Davies & Horne’s HR policies and learned “dating” clients was expressly forbidden. Yet, for once, knowing the rules didn’t make me want to comply. I just regretted looking it up. Resented the company for having such a rule.

“You’re chewing your lip,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

I stopped as soon as he pointed it out. “Well, uhm… I enjoy serving you.”

He nodded. “You’re a hell of a butler.”

My cheeks blazed in embarrassment. “No, I mean serving you…not just as your butler,” I mumbled.

---