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“Don’t I dare?” I ask mildly. “Miss Martin…are you threatening me?”
Her arms cross defensively over her chest, pushing her breasts a little higher. “I’ve never worn a dress that short in public; what makes you think I’ll accept a uniform like that?”
“Perhaps now is the time to start. I can point you towards some quality retailers if you’d like?”
She huffs, and her eyes narrow as she grabs at her bag. “I can’t afford to buy new clothes,” she snaps as she swings her bag over one shoulder. “And the ones I have are just fine.”
I feel a slight frown pull across my face as I watch her stalk from the kitchen. She can’t afford clothing either? How much am I paying her?
As I take the last mouthful of my kafe and head down to the garage, I make a mental note to call my accountant.
And possibly my tailor.
