Maid for Each Other(4)

I pulled off my Benny’s apron and gestured for the guy in the suit to follow me as my pulse skyrocketed. I’d been panic-watching the door all morning, expecting the police to show up and arrest me for breaking and entering. It wasn’t until an hour ago, when I ate my lunch at the table beside the big green dumpster, that I foolishly convinced myself no one would ever know it’d been me.

I’d been stupid enough to allow myself a deep breath.

“Swear to God I’m gonna fire you one of these days, Ab,” Benny yelled as I walked away from my register.

“No, you’re not,” I yelled back as I tried not to hyperventilate. “No one else would put up with you.”

“At least hurry, will ya?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I could sense Mr. Suit following behind me as I led him through the back of the store and out the door that led to the alley. Bright sunlight, warm air, and the faint smell of garbage flooded my senses as the door slammed behind us and I turned to face the guy.

Declan was what the royal couple had called him, right?

“Please let me explain. Declan.”

That made his eyes narrow—oops, should not have used his name—but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m not some sort of criminal, I promise. I work a few overnights for Masterkleen as a maid—I’m actually the maid who cleans your apartment on the nights when you aren’t in town. So even though I was there, I didn’t break and enter or anything like that.”

Good point, Abi.

I gave him what I hoped was a sweet smile, an expression that would confirm my innocence.

He frowned.

“I had a key,” I said, “so it wasn’t like—”

“You moved into my bedroom.” His voice was calm, but he definitely wasn’t interested in understanding. His scowl made that abundantly clear as he said, “You baked muffins in my kitchen. I don’t believe that’s part of your job description. I believe that’s called trespassing. Abi.”

Okay, the mocking way he said my name was straight up insulting and made my teeth hurt.

But I needed to keep my cool.

I tried again. “I know, but it was only because my apartment building has an infestation—I promise I didn’t bring any critters to your place. See, the property management company—who are total slumlord jackasses, by the way—said I had to find somewhere else to stay for a few days so they can take care of it, but I don’t have anywhere else.”

My cheeks got hot as soon as I said it because it was so pathetic.

He stared at me like I was picking food out of my teeth, and any hope of him somehow showing a little empathy for my situation completely dissipated when he said, “Hotels are a thing, you know.”

“I can’t afford a hotel,” I snapped, mortified. I wanted to disappear, but I forged on out of desperation. “But when I was cleaning your place last night, I thought, who would it hurt? I knew that you were in London for the week—I mean, apparently you came back early but I guess you forgot to tell Masterkleen—so I just thought I could crash for a few hours and no one would be the wiser.”

His jaw flexed, but he remained quiet. I really wanted to believe he was considering my defense, but he looked like one of those über-controlled types who enjoyed keeping his mouth shut so his adversaries could bury themselves with their own words.

Which meant RIP me, because I was the world’s worst rambler.

“And I’m sure you don’t care,” I continued, “but I’m really good at my job. I’m great at cleaning your apartment—you could eat off the bathroom floor. I mean, not that you would because that’s disgusting, but you genuinely could because I’m just that thorough.”

He cleared his throat and looked down at his expensive watch, the asshole, and I realized that no matter what I said, I was going to lose my job.

Oh, God.

This man was definitely going to fire me.

And I needed that job so badly.

There were a lot of jobs out there, but not many as flexible as the one I had with Masterkleen.

I inhaled through my nose, gritted my teeth, and swallowed my pride, because what other choice did I have? “I know I have no right to ask this, but please don’t tell Masterkleen. I’m begging. I really need this job and literally can’t afford to get fired. Please don’t tell my boss.”

His dark eyebrows knitted together, and he looked insulted by my request.

“Oh, I will definitely be telling your boss,” he said without even blinking. “Because you trespassed in my home.”

“Or,” I countered, grabbing his right arm as I desperately tried to get him to understand, “I fell asleep at my job. That’s not a crime, right?”

“I’m not interested in your justifications,” he said, looking down at my hand so aggressively that I dropped it. “I just came here to see who the hell had broken into my place and had breakfast with my parents. Now I know.”

“Please.” My voice cracked and I hated it. “Can’t you just forget it ever happened? Like, just pretend I never stayed there.”

“I wish I could,” he said, shaking his head. “But you have no idea what you’ve done.”

“Come on.” God, why was he such a hard-ass? “Who did it really hurt, though?”