Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I heard the door shut quietly behind me. I opened the file she had brought and quickly scanned her work. I couldn’t find a single error.
I went to the window and looked down at the street below. She didn’t deserve this. What I was doing was not right. I’d never sent a personal assistant to my house to pick up my dirty laundry before. True, I was horrible to them, but only because they were terrible at their jobs.
A surge of guilt filled me.
Then another instinct seeped in. Self-preservation. There was no room for pity here. She was poison for me. Pure, unadulterated poison. The faster I got rid of her the better.
Chapter 8
Lillian
Wow! He lived in a beautiful area. The garage doors opened remotely and I drove in. I looked at the plan of the house again, before I got out of the car. Choosing the right key from the ring, I opened the side door that led into the house and jumped back with fear and shock.
With my hand on my heart, I stared at two massive Dobermans standing behind the grill gate. They were both as still as statues but were snarling and growling so ferociously, they were frothing. One was even salivating. With their black lips pulled far back to show their sharp white teeth, they looked like demons from the pits of hell. They were truly frightening.
I didn’t know what to do.
Their stance was crystal clear: I was completely safe while I was on this side of the grill gate, but any attempt to breach it and they would have no hesitation to eat me alive.
What now?
I frowned. Should I phone Mr. Frost? Then… quite suddenly I knew exactly what to do. Mr. Frost knew the dogs would be here. He deliberately wanted to frighten me, which meant the sadistic monster was in all probability watching… I looked upwards at the corners of the ceiling and quickly spotted the video camera. I made certain to keep my face deliberately expressionless. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much he had frightened and shaken me.
“What would you like me to do now, Mr. Frost?” I asked coldly.
From the other side of the grill gate, I heard his voice come through some sort of intercom or speaker.
“Back down. Stay,” he ordered.
Instantly, both dogs moved. In unison and almost mechanically. They backed away and sat down, but never took their fierce eyes off me. I didn’t look at the video camera again. Even though my brain knew I had nothing to fear, these dogs were so well-trained that they were almost robotic, my hand was shaking as I put the key in the gate.
Show no fear, I told myself. Not to him, or the dogs.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the gate and stepped into the house. The dogs moved not one inch. Breathing slightly easier, but always listening for movement behind me, I moved deeper into the house. Once I got to the bottom of the stairs, I started to feel safe again, and I began to notice my surroundings.
Wow! What a truly beautiful house.
I walked up the majestic curving staircase and made my way to his dressing room. It was accessed through his bedroom. When I opened the door, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Oh my God!
There it was, my dream bed!
The Icon. The luxury bespoke bed from Savoir, made in a time-honored centuries-old tradition and filled with millions of natural micro springs and swathes of teased horse tail hair and wool. All of it hand-made. I couldn’t help myself. I had to stop and stare in fascination at the masterclass in craftsmanship and style.
I’d only ever seen this beauty in a magazine. Here was the king-size version and it was even more regal and beautiful in real life. Maybe the day would come when I could afford to treat myself to the smaller, less expensive version.
So this is where he slept.
I took one last look and moved towards the dressing room. Heck, his dressing room was nearly the same size as my apartment. Everything was meticulously clean and tidy. I saw the laundry bag instantly. It was neatly bagged and even tagged with the name and address of the dry cleaners.
At that moment, I knew that taking his laundry to the dry cleaners was a job that his housekeeper normally did, but he thought asking me to do such a menial thing would humiliate me.
There was a mirror in front of me.
I looked at my reflection. I looked more like a stuffy school teacher than a stripper. My hair was tightly pulled back into a ponytail high on my head. I was wearing a buttoned-up jacket and underneath it a turtleneck top that was not tight by anybody’s standards. Anyone in their right mind, that was. Perhaps a strict religious puritan could find objection to my modest attire.