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I throw my hands in the air. “Are you insane?”
“Probably certifiable, but that’s your problem, not mine.”
“You’re tracking me, asshole?”
“We’ve established this already.” He gives me a look that suggests I am the biggest idiot on earth.
If he were a preteen, I would have expected him to roll his eyes at me.
But lucky for me, he’s a grown-ass man because instead of dragging this conversation out any longer, he walks past where I’m standing and motions for me to follow him. Then I’m being led down another hallway and a hidden set of stairs.
How large is this place?
On the bottom level, a full gym covers an open floor plan. Boxing ring and all.
“Clean all the towels.” The command rolls off his tongue, so easy for him.
He’s getting used to ordering me around.
A part of me dares to challenge him, but I know it won’t be any use. It’ll only make things worse.
“Okay.”
Translation: Screw you, jackass.
“And all the surfaces need to be wiped down.”
With my spit? Don’t mind if I do.
“Got it.”
“Sweep, vacuum, mop, then hand clean the floors. I’m a fan of the four-step method.”
Are you? I’m sure you’ve never had to clean anything a day in your life.
“Sure thing, boss.”
My flippant tone must grate his nerves because there’s the slightest shift of his hands. A reflex. As if he’s holding himself back from clenching them. It makes me smile, and as I expected, his orders become worse.
“Christina uses non-toxic ingredients in her cleaning solutions, but I think I’m sick of lemon lately.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. “I’ll be sure to buy a different scent.”
Right after I dig your grave and bury you in it.
“No,” he corrects, matching my smile with his own, and we must look ridiculous, grinning at each other like all is merry while venom seeps out of our eyes. “You’ll have to make a different scent.”
“Any preferences?”
Not sure you’ll be able to smell it after I greet your nose with my fist.
“Lemongrass.”
Is he serious? Lemon and lemongrass both smell like lemons. And he knows it. He may be a psycho, but he sure can smell.
But he’s not done.
“You’ll have to walk to the store to buy it. Chef doesn’t like anyone touching his herbs.” That smile hasn’t slipped from his face. “Gail will hand you a few quarters to purchase it. I know your financial situation is tight.”
