Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
It’s beautiful though. The floor beneath my feet is marble. The staircase is sweeping and goes off to both sides.
He shuts the heavy door behind me. The bang echoes memories of the sound of my cell door banging shut behind me.
My heart sets off like a racehorse in my chest.
I feel trapped. Beads of sweat break out on my skin.
You’re okay, Daisy. You’re just in a house.
I squeeze my eyes shut and force a deep breath.
When I open my eyes, Kastor Matis is standing right in front of me, watching me with curiosity…and something else.
Anger.
He’s staring at me like the crazy bitches in prison used to stare at me. Like they wanted to stab me with a blunt instrument at any given moment.
My insides tighten, my Spidey sense going on full alert.
If it weren’t for the terms of my release forcing me to be here, then I’d be turning around and hightailing it back out of the door.
But I have to be here. And I need this job. So, I suppress the feelings and suck it up.
“So, where should I start? Do you have a schedule that you’d like me to follow?” I’m making this shit up on the fly because, honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. I just need to fill this horrific silence between the good-looking bastard and myself.
“Do you have cleaning experience?” he bites out.
I swear, it’s like he’s spitting at me every time he speaks.
I’m taking that it’s because I’ve been in prison. But if he has a problem with ex-cons, then why the hell did he hire one?
And I’m assuming he should already know my level of cleaning experience. Wouldn’t Toby have filled him in?
“Some. I had a cleaning job in, um…prison.” The shame prickles my skin, like it always does when I say that word. “My duties were to clean the library and rec area—recreational area,” I correct. “Also, I mopped hallways and—”
“I don’t need a rundown of your time in prison,” he cuts me off.
Okay…
My cheeks sting with embarrassment—and, if I’m honest, anger.
This guy is a bit of an arsehole.
Biting my lip, I bind my hands together to stop myself from…I dunno…punching him in his handsome face.
Wanker.
“Sorry. I guess I misunderstood. I thought you wanted to know my cleaning experience.”
Again, he says nothing, just does that unnerving staring thing.
I fidget.
Clear my throat.
Avert my eyes.
Then, I try to change tack. “You have a beautiful home.” I cast my eyes around the spacious hallway.
“It’s not mine.”
That brings my eyes back to him, and…yep, he’s still staring. Well, staring is being kind. He’s glaring.
“Who’s—”
“It’s my parents’ house. I live here and run the estate for them.”
“Where—”
“Away,” he cuts me off again. “I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
He turns on his heel and strides away.
Six
The tour of the house takes a while. The place is like a cavern.
I’m actually worried that I, alone, won’t be able to keep this place clean.
There are a lot of rooms.
Downstairs, there’s a library—yes, a library. A gym. An indoor swimming pool, which Mr. Matis told me he has a guy who comes in to clean it. His office. The biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen in my life with a separate utility room, which is where all the cleaning products are kept. A huge dining room, complete with a sixteen-seater dining table. I guess the Matises entertain often. A living room, which looks like it’s barely used. And a sitting room, which hosts a huge TV and looks like it gets used more often.
Upstairs are six bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. Kas’s bedroom is at the side of the house, overlooking the paddocks. He has a private balcony, and the view from it is gorgeous. There’s also a separate bathroom that hosts the biggest bathtub I’ve ever seen in my life.
I need to work out which rooms get used the most and clean them regularly.
He also gives me a uniform to wear while I work, which means I won’t ruin my own clothes. It’s just a short-sleeved, knee-length plain black housekeeping dress with a white collar and cuffs, and he’s given me two, which is good, as I’ll have one to wash against.
I’ll change into it once we’re done here.
We’re back downstairs and in his office now.
He had a few employee forms for me to fill in with my address and that kind of thing.
Shit, it’s asking for my bank details to pay my wages into.
I press the pen to my lip. “Um, Mr. Matis…I don’t have a bank account.”
He looks from his phone, which he was just staring at, to me, his eyes sharp.
I shift with discomfort under his laser stare. “I, um, don’t remember the details of my old bank account, as I haven’t used it in eighteen months. I’m not even sure the account is still open or if the bank closed it down.”