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“Good. I’d suggest you get dressed and get ready. There’s several versions there, for different occasions. One for wearing in your leisure time, in case you get called to duty abruptly. It’s similar to the usual uniform, but more comfortable, relaxed,” he said with such calm, casual certainty.
“Wait… I don’t think I can wear any of this,” I said, cutting him off.
Silence took over for a while.
“You’d best get over that quickly, miss,” he said to me. “If you wish to keep your job, I suggest you stuff your qualms in a sack. Otherwise, get out immediately and I’ll let him know he needs a replacement.”
I went over to the box again, looking at them and feeling my hands tremble.
Not only would I be out my new job, but I wouldn’t even have another job to go back to. And let me tell you, if anyone in town was hiring except the guy who fired my dad? I’d already be working there.
“I’ll do it,” I said softly, a sigh upon my voice. Though Martin had hung up almost immediately upon my acceptance. It was clear I wouldn’t get a lot of sympathy from him. He was probably too busy busting his ass for Mr. Romy to care about anyone else.
I squeezed myself into that outfit, just as I was ordered to. Though the stockings, heels and ridiculously-short miniskirt were a challenge, it was the top that snugly hugged my bosoms and made my cleavage bulge out that really was the toughest part. But I suffered it, because I had to, and made my way up to wait by the door for Mr. Romy’s arrival.
He came home himself that evening, looking as handsome and hard-nosed as ever. His gaze went to me immediately, and he shut the door behind him as he let his briefcase thunk to the floor.
“Very nice,” he said in a gravelly voice, and for once I actually heard what approval sounded like from my boss.
But I just felt like running and hiding. I looked at the briefcase and wondered if I was supposed to bring that in. The job didn’t really come with a list of duties other than the few that I’d been told, but more than that, rich guys always wanted their staff to be mind readers.
I shifted in my heels, my hands clasped behind my back. I thought it’d make me look professional but instead it just made my chest stick out more.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He took his time sizing me up, but he kept such a calm, cool aura about him all the while, somehow avoiding the disposition of a letch like I was more used to dealing with.
“I approve. You’ll get your raise, Miss Tish,” he said to me, pushing his shoulders back and looking at me expectantly. “Well?” he asked.
I blanked.
“Excuse me, sir?” I said, and that made him furrow his brow in irritation.
“Didn’t you study your new duties?” he asked. “On your tablet?” and I suddenly turned blood red, realizing I must’ve missed some other things. “Surely Martin told you,” he said.
He didn’t, I didn’t think, but I stared up at him blankly.
“Grocery shopping. Taking an inventory. No guests...” I trailed off, trying to think of what else Martin had told me.
His brows furrowed and he looked irritated.
“Take my briefcase to my office, set the table for supper and await further instructions,” he commanded me firmly. “After tonight, I’ll expect you to go over the details in the tablet, understood?”
It was less a question like when Martin said that word, and more of a command itself.
My cheeks went hot and I grabbed for the briefcase, my knees trembling a little as I went up the few stairs into the main area, going towards where I figured his office was. I regretted not looking around more earlier, but it felt strange, being in someone else’s house all by myself.
It took me longer than I’d hoped just to find the office, what with how big his place was! But at last, the spacious room was in my sights and I laid his case upon his hardwood desk, taking but a moment to admire the very old-fashioned style of the decor as compared to the more modern look of the rest of his place.
I came out then, rushing to the table, when I found him doing something I’d never thought I’d see: cooking.
There he was, tie and jacket gone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, working at the stove with such intense focus.
I’d just assumed he had someone to do that as well.
And secretly I was grateful that wasn’t another one of my tasks.
I stood for a moment, my head cocked to the side as I drank the sight in. He looked good, and it was nice to see him, without being seen. To study him and let my eyes roam over his hair, his trim figure, the way his forearms bulged from out beneath his dress shirt.
