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Lexi
When I wake the next morning, it’s to a noise triggered by my watch. Immediately, I sit bolt upright and check the screen and my heart settles when I see Hunter’s cleaner heading into the apartment. Hunter himself left hours ago, and I didn’t bother to get out of bed for that goodbye. He’s somebody else’s problem now because he has security shadowing his every move and my job is to keep him safe in company and delve into his private life to look for any possible cracks.
As I hit the shower, I think about the strange day yesterday. Hunter is a surprise—a nice one, actually, and despite my no touching rule, I think I’ve broken it more times than him already.
As I soap my body, I remember how I felt when we shared the walk home last night. The stars were out and the streets a little quieter than usual and it was as if New York was our own personal kingdom. It felt good wearing his jacket that smelled of him, musk and leather, with a hint of citrus and spice. I’ve always liked a man who takes care of himself and yet I need a man, not a boy. Someone who can stand up to me, to challenge me and not put up with my shit because I scare most men off when I get pissed off with them—I can’t help it. I’m trained in the art of selfdefense and offense, come to mention it and sometimes I have to remind myself to act like a normal human being.
When we returned to the apartment, it felt a little awkward as we parted company. It felt wrong somehow, as if we were heading in opposite directions against the tide. I’m not sure what it is about Hunter Blake, but he interests me more than any man has before and I keep on telling myself it’s because I haven’t got laid in months. Even Mason wasn’t allowed that pleasure because I don’t give myself up to just anyone. I have my principles that I appear to have left behind in Canada because one look into those enigmatic eyes has me trembling with need. I can’t help it and quite frankly, I’m glad he’s back behind his desk so I can think straight.
Pulling on a simple yellow dress, I slip on my flip flops and head off to meet Rosalie, Hunter’s cleaner. I say cleaner, she’s more like his general dogsbody because I’ve seen her job description, employment history and background checks.
As I head into the kitchen, I feel bad watching her clear up the dishes that we left dirty in the sink and she looks startled to see me and screams.
“It’s ok Rosalie, I’m Lexi, Hunter’s girlfriend, remember, he told you I was staying for a while.”
She nods vigorously and says apologetically in a broad Spanish accent, “I’m sorry, Meez. Lexi, I thought you were with Meester Blake.”
“God no.” I yawn loudly. “That man gets up far too early for my liking, it’s why I, um, stayed in the guest room.”
Quickly covering my tracks, I need to explain the separate sleeping arrangements, because if Rosalie is the one we are looking for, she will have spotted the separate rooms and sniffed a rat almost immediately.
I’m not sure if she believes me, because her eyes twinkle as she nods. “Yes, meez.”
“I’m sorry for the mess, I really should have cleaned that up last night.”
I don’t miss the knowing smirk as she carries on. “It’s fine, I love to clean, and there is not much to clean here.”
I have to agree with her because it appears as if Hunter likes everything in its place at all times.
Grabbing an orange juice from the fridge, I offer her one and she shakes her head. “No thank you, meez, I take nothing.”
“It’s ok, Rosalie, you’re allowed a drink you know.”
“No meez, I clean, I go.”
Taking a seat, I watch her with interest. “So, tell me, have you worked for Hunter long?”
I watch as she pulls herself up and says proudly, “Six years meez, I am very loyal.”
The pride in her eyes tells me everything I need to know, because this woman is obviously proud to work for him. “Do you have a family, Rosalie?”
“Yes, meez, a son Rodriguez and daughter Samantha, they are in college. I am so proud of them.”
“And a husband, perhaps?”
She nods. “Vito, he works in the markets.”
“What, Wall Street?”
I’m surprised at that and she laughs as if I’ve said something funny. “The fruit market, meez, he’s a porter.”
“An admiral profession, it keeps me in orange juice.”
I raise my glass to her and she laughs as I say cheekily, “So, tell me about Hunter. I don’t know, something embarrassing that I can taunt him with later. Annoying habits, that sort of thing.”
Rosalie shakes her head. “He does nothing, he’s perfect.”
I almost spit out my juice and giggle. “Now I know why he trusts you, Rosalie, you’re his only fan.”
