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Rubbing a hand down my face as I exit her girly, sweet smellingbedroom, I curse under my breath at the way I spoke to her. I told her to shut up, like she’s not my boss’s daughter but truth is I wanted to do more.
I wanted to sit down on her frilly bed, pull her over my lap and spank her prideful ass again and again, making her regret having a boy over and defying me orders. My palms itch at the need to show her what happens when little princesses don’t behave.
Show her what happens if she ever uses that superior tone with me again. But I can do none of it, I work for her father and even if she threatened to have me fired, Michaels won’t ever fire me. I’m too much of an asset.
Besides he cares far too little about his daughter’s opinion and I feel a dent in my chest, when thinking about how few people truly care about her. Her parents don’t and the shallow friends she has, she buys by giving them expensive gifts or taking them on tropical vacations.
There’s a desperation in her eyes for someone to see the real her, give her what she needs and protect her how she needs to be protected. She thinks she keeps it well under wraps but it’s hard to hide things from a man in my business.
And had she managed to hide it better, tricked me into thinking she’s nothing but a superficial airhead, I wouldn’t have looked at her twice.
Walking through the backdoor, I end up by the gates of the mansion, just in time when the guy Meadow had up in her room is about to leave. When he notices me, he lets out a scream, raising his hands in defense,
“I’m leaving, I swear I’m leaving...”
Ignoring him, I ask in hard tone, “Did you kiss her? Did you kiss Miss. Michaels?” My fists clench in anger at the thought but he frantically shakes his head.
“No, she wouldn’t let me,” he answers and I unclench my fingers.
“Good, then I’ll let you live,” I growl.
Letting out a girly screech, he runs away not even bothering for the gate to open, but clumsily climbs over it, landing on the other side and races just as far away from Meadow as I want him.
Turning around, I walk back to the house, only to see Meadow sitting on her balcony, gazing down at me with narrowed eyes. I want to bark at her to go right back inside, because she could fall if she’s not careful but I’ve already acted unprofessionally enough around her.
Her mouth turns to the side when our eyes meet and she yaps, “Jerk!”
I grind my jaw but I’m relieved she’s not sitting on the railing anymore. Once inside the foyer, I bump into the help that are about to go home for the weekend.
“I’ve left some dinner for you in the oven, Mr. Slade,” cook smiles and I give her a smile back even though I don’t like the stuff she makes. I prefer sturdy food that strengthens a man rather than teases his palate. Besides, I got Meadow to do that for me.
“Thank you,” I say, nodding, holding the door open for them like the domesticated man I’m pretending to be. After they’re gone, I walk into my bathroom and wash up before dinner, wondering whether to shave or not but it’s pointless considering how fast it grows back.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I detest the man I see. The one in a starchy suit, the one that’s groomed and doesn’t have dirt under his fingernails. The one who’s burly from the gym and not from the challenges given to him by Mother Nature.
Rubbing my jaw, I wonder, “Fuck, Slade. How did you end up like this?”
My life’s taken a course, I didn’t intend from the beginning. I intended to stay living in the wild with a woman constantly barefoot and pregnant and preferably tied to my bed rather than the kitchen. A woman who was going to give me my children and we would grow old together while sitting on the porch and listen to the rain on the old, tin roof.
Instead I’m stuck in the big city, working for a man I don’t give two fucks about while obsessing over his daughter who hates me and looks at me like my sheer presence makes her feel like she’s having her nails pulled.
It’s obvious that she’s not mine to take.
My body protests at the thought, even if my mind is trying to be controlled and logical but my male instinct is a different story. Exiting the bathroom, my stomach rumbles from hunger but I stop in my tracks when I smell the scent of lavender and talcum powder.
Could recognize that smell anywhere and it means Meadow is in the kitchen. Hell...what do I do now? Walk in and have my dinner while she’s still there? The Michaels’s rarely eat as a family and Meadow usually has her meals on her own just like I do. Mrs. Michaels keeps a sharp eye on the cupboard and refrigerator and if Meadow dares to eat too much, she gets to hear about it for days.
Standing behind the door, I slightly move to be able to see inside and there she is.... Sitting on a high chair by the kitchen island, dressed in a long, silvery silk robe and eating out of a big bowl with cereals.
The TV is on in the corner, but she only watches it casually, seeming more interested in her food while dangling with her legs. They always look so damn velvety she must shave them every day. But most women don’t do that, do they?
“Are you just going to stand there and watch me from the dark like a creep?” Meadow asks and I tense. Her face turns to the side and she raises a brow.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I was waiting for you to finish so that I can eat my dinner in peace.”
She smiles a salty smile. “Don’t you want to keep me company?”
“I don’t think of you as company.”
