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Come on. Tell her, Will. Tell her this isn’t what you meant by a dress code.
“Uh, no...no problem at all,” I say.
I am so fucking dead.
D.E.A.D.
CHAPTER FIVE
Khloe
I TAKE A much-needed sip of my coffee, when what I actually want to do is throw it at Will, mug and all. What the hell? After taking care of me, holding my hair back and wiping my face when I was ill, not to mention checking on me through the night, I thought he was a decent guy, was more like his grandfather—until I looked in my closet and found a dozen French maid outfits.
I mean seriously!
This...this ridiculous costume—two sizes too small for me—is what he insists his help wear? Maybe I should have told James my size. But who in their right mind could have foreseen this insanity? Yeah, that must be it. Will Carson is insane. What other explanation can there be? I can see the headline now. Woman dies of suffocation in a too-tight French maid outfit her rich, clearly insane employer forced her to wear.
Okay, I might have to trim that a bit. But that’s certainly the gist of it.
Anger courses through my blood, and I swear to God if I didn’t need the money that came with this job, I’d toss my coffee at him—although it’s possible I’d wait until the second cup, since I really need this one—and storm out the door.
“Breakfast is ready,” he says. I take a breath and let it out slowly.
“I lost my appetite,” I grumble through clenched teeth.
“You should eat something.”
My stupid stomach takes that moment to growl. “Fine.” If I catch him grinning, that’s it. I’m out of here. I spin, and his expression is thoughtful and maybe even a bit confused. I’m about to ask what his problem is, but the smell of breakfast hits me. My mouth waters at the sight of two plates with toast, bacon and eggs.
He waves his hand toward a patio door. “We can eat here or on the deck.”
“Deck,” I say, and scoop up my plate. “Lead the way.”
Will gathers his plate, and I follow him. I’m pissed off, and the last thing I should be doing is admiring the man’s ass in his low-slung jeans as he heads to the patio door. He opens it, and a warm breeze washes over me. I step out into the sunshine and breathe in the briny scent as waves lap against the sandy shore below. I glance down at the infinity pool overlooking the turquoise waters. My anger instantly dissipates, and I forget all about the stupid outfit. Well, not entirely. But if the ridiculous getup is the price I have to pay for this unbelievable Caribbean view, then so be it. Cripes, I’m such an easy sellout. But the view...
“My God, this is beautiful.” I glance around, the wind blowing my hair from my face, but there are no other villas close to us. Will’s home is at the end of a strip of land, the ocean on all sides. “And so private.”
“That’s why I bought the cottage. I value my privacy.”
Cottage? I think he means mansion.
“That’s Magdalen Bay,” he says, and I take in the strip of secluded white sand below.
“I could go skinny-dipping and no one would see me.”
“I’d see you,” he mumbles, his voice an octave deeper.
I turn, watch his throat work as he swallows—like he’s afraid I might really get naked.
“I’m not going to go skinny-dipping,” I blurt out. “I don’t even know why I said that. It’s just that I’ve never seen anything like this, and I love how private it is. I value my privacy, too, Will.”
“Well, I’m glad you like it.”
“Wait, how long are we here?” I ask. I was in such a rush to get ready, I never had the time to ask James.
“Granddad didn’t tell you?”
“There’s a lot James didn’t tell me,” I mutter.
