The following days were rather uneventful. Emily’s boss stopped teasing her at each and every turn. She often caught him giving her looks full of longing and desire, and she each time wondered what could be so special about her.
It had been a week and some since she had first met him, and he made her his personal maid. She was now so used to bringing him breakfast as soon as she arrived, to cleaning his room, and choosing his outfits, that close to nothing fazed her.
She often found herself lusting after the man and fantasizing about him. And no amount of head-shakes dissipated the lewd thoughts away. She was stuck in a near-constant state of arousal.
That day, she was having lunch with both Cecilia and Paul when her phone rang.
She was so rarely called, she almost frowned. Who could it be?
“For someone who rejected me so adamantly, you sure are cozy with the watch, the gardener’s son,” her boss’ voice did wonders to her belly – butterflies were having a field day.
“Hello,” she greeted amiably because that was the right thing to say. “How have you been?”
His only answer was a grumpy, “Kindly tell him to stop telling you silly jokes so he could watch you laugh… Or I’ll be heading over.”
“Right,” she scoffed with an eye-roll.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“No,” she squeaked out quickly, too quickly, remembering the spanking she had gotten the last time around, when she had rolled her eyes at him in the car.
“Lies,” he sang-song.
“I’m having lunch right now,” she said, trying to implicitly tell him she wanted to hang up.
“Yes, I know that very well, dorogaya,” came his smooth reply. “Just tell him to stop trying to flirt his way into your pants, and I’ll hang up.”
“Bye,” she told him dismissively and then hung up.
“Who was that?” Cecilia asked as soon as she did.
“Nobody of importance,” Emily responded off-handedly.
“Really? That didn’t seem like nobody. Your face lit up and then flushed as you were talking to nobody,” came Cecilia’s teasing.
“That was a persistent pest,” she admitted after a while.
Paul frowned at that, “You have someone stalking you? That’s a serious problem.”
“No, not stalking me,” she giggled.
“Harassing you then?” He suggested, unwilling to take the matter lightly.
“Not that either,” she said. It was only half a lie. For, truth be told, how could it possibly be harassment if she enjoyed it so much?
She was about to say something else when someone’s shadow reached the trio. She froze.
He couldn’t have possibly come for her, could he? He oh so rarely left his room, like the true recluse he was, this was bound to bring trouble – more rumors – for her.
“Well, hello there,” he greeted them amiably.
“Hey,” Cecilia told him almost timidly.
“Hi,” Paul said agreeably.
Emily was the last one to greet him back. “Hello, sir, anything you need?”
She was looking at his face, into his eyes, challengingly, as if she could care less about her job. And at that moment, she didn’t care much. She was a bit tired of his ways if she were to be honest with herself. He was hot one moment, and then cold the next. He was protective and possessive one moment, and then cold and detached the next.
Mood swings rarely ever suit men.
“Can’t I just want to walk around the property?” There was a clear warning behind his words.
She didn’t heed the damned warning and carried on with a devil-may-care attitude, “Of course you can. Who am I to say you can’t?”
His smirk was almost smug and yet menacing at the same time.
How had she grown to read him so well?
“Do you mind if I sit here with you?” He asked just because it was the polite thing to say no doubt.
“It’s your property, sir,” Cecilia said sweetly.
“The weather is nice, isn’t it?” he said after sitting down on the bench.
“It is,” Paul confirmed. “So much in fact that I was about to ask Emily to hang out with me after work.”
All playfulness left the player’s gray eyes, and Emily turned to her friend with a smile. “Sure.”
“Oh, isn’t it sweet, Mr. King?” Cecilia cooed. “He’s finally asking her out.”
“Sweet indeed,” he grumbled the word.
He spent five more minutes with them, remained silent through that time, and then excused himself.
** ** ** ** ** ** ** **
When Emily entered the master bedroom to carry on with her duties, she found herself face to face with an angry beast, so to speak.
“Dorogaya,” the single word sent chills running down her spine, “How much do you value your friend’s job?”
“What friend?” She asked with a gasp, thinking of the worst. Did Cecilia do something to upset him?
“The watch. The gardener’s son. Paul. He won’t be keeping his damned job if he lays as much as a finger on you.”
“Really now?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him. “Why is that? I’m not your kept woman last time I checked.”
“I have had lovers but never had to keep them as you so kindly put it,” he iced out.
“Oh right, the great Theodore King never had to pursue a woman,” she told him in an exasperated tone. “How could I ever forget?”
“It’s the truth,” he told her on a sigh. “But stop making this about me. We’re talking about you going on a date with that guy.”
“I already agreed, and I’m going. There’s nothing to talk about,” she told him off-handedly, and was ready to walk away from him, only he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him.
“Dorogaya,” the way he called her darling in whatever language that was made her tremble with physical awareness, with pure unadulterated desire. “Why must you deny me so?”
She dampened her lips and his gaze followed the gesture hungrily.
“Just how old are you to speak like this?” She asked him almost breathlessly.
“You don’t really wish to know, dorogaya,” he told her softly as he peered down into her eyes.
When his gaze locked with hers, she was almost done for, core throbbing with need.
What a traitorous body! She inwardly sighed.
“You and I,” she told him and his eyes brightened ever so slightly. She dreaded his reaction at what she had to say, but would say it nonetheless. “You and I,” she repeated almost anxiously, “we don’t fit. We are from different worlds. We don’t belong. We will never belong together.”
“Never say never, dorogaya,” he told her softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement, as if he knew something she didn’t.
“You like Justin Bieber?” She asked in mock horror.
“No. Who is he?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Ah, I did think you were too old for his songs as well,” she giggled.
“If you say I am, then I definitely am,” he said, his breath mingling with hers as he leaned forward.
Her heart started beating wildly at that. Was he going to steal her first kiss? Her breath stuck in her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut as she waited… but nothing came.
“I won’t kiss those lips I so desire until you beg of me,” he told her huskily, almost as if he had trouble keeping himself under control.
And with that, his lips met her forehead in a peck so fleeting and yet so tender, she could have melted.
Why was her body and her heart so damn affected by this player’s charms? She knew she’d only get heartache should she follow through with her heart’s desire.
And thus, she shall resist him with all her might. Only three more weeks to go through.
What was the worst that could happen really? She just needed to try to keep her distance.
Or so, she thought