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He grunts as though he understands me, and I think all is forgiven as I dish up his breakfast.
I’ll have to be more fucking careful next time.
Oversleeping. Racing through spa foyers like a dirty stop-out on my way home. Sharing a bed.
None of this is me. Not even close.
But I feel strangely sated. More relaxed than I can remember in years.
My balls are well and truly fucking empty, my cock sleeping the dead kind of sleep that fucking all night long gifts to you, and my mind is quiet.
Free.
I slump down in the armchair I haven’t enjoyed for an age, breathing in the scent of orchids, and I feel fucking amazing.
I could sleep again, right here right now, with a smile on my face and the smell of Amy’s gorgeous pussy still on my fingers, but Brutus has other plans.
He nudges my elbow, glaring up at me with his overbite in full gruesome splendour.
“You want out?” I ask, and he gruffs at me. Yes, he wants fucking out.
No rest for the wicked, but that’s okay. I can live with that.
I grab his leash.
MELISSA
JOE CALLS Saa at me happily when I step in through the front door, bouncing along to his favourite TV show as Dean tries to give him lunch.
Dean doesn’t look quite so impressed. He drops Joe’s little train fork in the bowl.
“Jeez,” he snaps. “Where the hell have you been?”
He’s worried, of course he is, and he has every right to be. I tell him so.
And then I tell him how I slept in Alexander Henley’s arms and he slept too. I tell him how he smiled at me as he left this morning, taking a moment to kiss my lips before he shot out through the door in a cloud of expletives.
“You could’ve phoned!” he tells me, but I couldn’t have. How could I? How could I have possibly explained a call to a male friend at home taking care of my baby brother?
I explain my logic and Dean shrugs. “So what are you gonna tell him?”
I stare blankly. “What do you mean?”
“You are gonna have to tell him something, Lissa, You can’t keep this act up forever.”
“Just for six months…” I say, and I realise how stupid that sounds.
I don’t need Dean to spell out the obvious, but he does it anyway. “Six months is a long time. One day you hardly know the guy, the next he’s sleeping next to you, signing up to pay you crazy cash every weekend for half a year straight. This is crazy, Lissa. It can’t work. You have to tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
He shrugs. “The truth?”
I laugh out loud. “That’s crazy.”
“No,” he says. “This is crazy. He’s gonna find out, sooner or later. He’s gonna find out and he’s gonna be pissed. Fess up now, get it over with.”
My stomach lurches. “He wouldn’t want to know me… not if he knew…”
He shrugs again. “You don’t know that. Guy seems pretty keen to me.”
But I do know that. Of course I know it.
I feel Dean’s glare. “Stop it now,” he says. “Before you get in too deep to get out. I’m serious, Lissa, this ain’t gonna end well, not unless you fess up and iron this crap out before it gets out of hand.”
I’m already in too deep to get out, and my face says it all.
He shakes his head. “This is so messed up,” he says, and I don’t argue. I couldn’t argue.
So I don’t.
I get him to count my money instead.
ALEXANDER
I ORDER Brenda to summon Janet Yorkley to my office first thing on Monday morning.
She’s dithery as she presents herself at my door. I wave her in, and silence her as she starts gabbling on about how she hopes the new cleaner is doing a good job.
“The new cleaner is fine,” I tell her. “She’s excellent, in fact.”
Her relief is palpable.
I don’t give her chance to enjoy it. “Which is exactly why I want to increase her hours. I need her on a Sunday morning. Early. My dog needs walking.”
“A Sunday morning?” she asks.
I hate having to repeat myself, so I don’t. “I may be in, or I may not, but that’s irrelevant. I need her to let herself in before seven regardless, feed him and take him out. She should be done before nine.”
Janet nods. “I’ll arrange it, Mr Henley. I’m sure Melissa will be pleased to assist.”
Melissa.
Her name zips right up my spine.
“Advise Melissa to be careful of dog presents in the conservatory. He may well have had a long evening.”
“I’ll let her know,” she says.
She plasters on a fake smile as I dismiss her, being so careful to close my door quietly on the way out.
Melissa.
Not a Molly May after all. Not even close.
It would have been handy to know this before I attempted to chase her down my fucking street a few weeks back, but none of that matters now.
I have other interests to keep me occupied.
MELISSA
I FEEL sick as I head for Janet Yorkley’s office, freshly summoned via my work phone before I’d even finished clearing Mr Henley’s breakfast things away.
She calls me inside as soon as I tap on her office door, and the sickness eases off just a little. She’s smiling. That’s got to be good, right?
She tells me to take a seat and I do.
“Excellent news,” she says. “Mr Henley has expressed his approval of your cleaning standards. Very well done. His praise doesn’t come easily.”
I feel like such a fraud as I grin back at her, as though she’ll see straight through me and realise I’ve been up to no good. As though she’ll know I’m overstepping every boundary in my employee handbook and then some.
“Thanks, I’ve been working really hard.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she says. “And you’ll be working harder from this week onwards.”
I stare blankly and she keeps on smiling.
“Mr Henley would like to increase your hours. You’ll be taking his dog out on a Sunday morning before seven. You should be done by nine.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. “Sunday morning?”
She nods. “He advised he may be in, or he may not be, but not to let that deter you. Of course, we prefer discreet, always,” she waffles on and on as I struggle to form words.
Finally, she stops. Waits for a response.
“But I, um… Sunday?”
She groans. “Yes, Miss Martin. Sunday. Every Sunday, seven a.m. at the latest.”
I can’t even begin to hide the horror. “But I can’t! I really can’t… not on a Sunday…”
Her eyes turn cold in a heartbeat. “What do you mean you can’t? We don’t do can’t, Melissa, not where Mr Henley is concerned.”
“But Joe…” I bleat. “My brother… he needs me… I said at interview…”
“Your responsibilities wouldn’t be a problem. That’s what you said at interview.”
And she’s right, I did.
“I really can’t,” I tell her, even though it pains. “There’s no way I can do a Sunday, really there isn’t. I’d love to, really I would, but I can’t…”
She raises a hand. “You want me to tell that to Mr Henley, do you? That you just can’t?”
My mind spins.
He wants a cleaner on Sunday morning because…
“I can’t,” I repeat. “I’m really sorry, Janet, but I can’t.”
The stand-off takes forever. My fingers fidget under the desk, contemplating the inevitable, contemplating having to walk away from this. But I can’t do that either.
I really can’t.
“This is worth losing your position over, is it?” she snaps. “Plenty of our staff would love to work in Mr Henley’s house. It’s a privilege.”
“I’m lucky,” I say. “I know it, but I just can’t.”
It doesn’t matter how many
times I say it, her eyes are still piercing. Still angry.
I lay it on the line, because I can’t see any other option. “I’ll resign,” I say. “I’m sorry to let you down.”
Her mouth opens. “Resign?”
I nod. “Please send my apologies to Mr Henley.”
There’s a tickle of relief under the disappointment once the words are out there. Maybe I’ll never have to tell him, maybe he’ll never know who I really am.
It’s clutching at straws, but straws feel pretty good under the circumstances.
“Shall I leave my uniform?” I ask, ready to pull the cap from my head. It would be more than a tickle of relief to ditch this crappy outfit.
Now it’s Janet struggling for words. “Let’s not be hasty,” she says, and then she tuts at me like I’m a naughty child. “I’m disappointed, Melissa, but under the circumstances maybe someone else can take the Sunday shift.”
