3. Maggie
3
Maggie
Stepping inside Derek’s bedroom is always an odd sensation. The room is bigger than the two-bedroom apartment I share with my mother and that doesn’t include the walk-in closet or the beautiful bathroom. Each time I step inside his private space, I feel as if I’m intruding when I shouldn’t be. But it’s my job and I remind myself of that as I strip away the bedding that still smells like him. The reminder holds as I stuff the sheets into his bamboo laundry hamper and set it beside the door so I can take it with me when I leave.
There’s a specific order I do things to make sure I get in and out as quickly as possible even though Derek, as he insists I call him, is downstairs doing whatever kind of work a man like him does all day long. With the bedroom and laundry taken care of, I’ll hit the bathroom next and when I’m done in there, vacuuming is my final task and then that’s it. Derek’s personal space is free and clear of the likes of me.
It’s my fourth day on the job and I move around freely as I listen to an audiobook—it certainly helps the tasks seem less mundane. Not that I mind the job, because I don’t. As the only child of a working single mother, I’ve been cleaning, doing laundry and cooking since I was about eight years old but only now, I get paid for it so it’s even better.
My lips curl into a smile as I stare at the bathroom door, not because I have an affinity for cleaning bathrooms but Derek’s is straight-up immaculate. It’s decorated in shades of blue just like his eyes, which is disconcerting enough, but the tub is divine and the shower is perfect with glass walls and a waterfall showerhead that I’ve been lusting after just as much as the man whose scent usually lingers in the bathroom long after he’s gone. Today, I’m running a little later than usual since it took an ice age to dust the library, which lets me relax even more because there’s no chance of running into Derek.
I’ve been keeping my distance since day one considering I’d like to keep my job long enough to earn a full paycheck…and also because every glimpse of my boss only makes my silly crush on him stronger. I think about the guy all day and dream about him at night. It’s ridiculous, I know. But I can’t help it. Not yet.
In time, I’ll be able to laugh about when I crushed on my sexy billionaire boss.
Until then, I’ll stay as far away as possible.
I turn the brass handle on the bathroom door, ready to get to work but what I find instead both shocks and intrigues me. Derek steps out of the shower and the first thing I notice is his powerful legs, tan like he spends plenty of time outdoors and muscular as if he religiously works out. His narrow waist gives way to abs lightly dusted with short brown hair, but the whole picture comes into focus and I bite down on my tongue at what I see.
Holy shit, that thing is huge! Oh my god. I did not just have that thought about my boss. To his face.
Shit.
He’s staring back at me with an expression I can’t read and even if I could, I’m not sure I’d want to know. Nervous, my gaze slips from his face and down his chest and abs to the thick member trying to join the party…
But what party? You’re working, remember? My subconscious has joined the madness.
I risk another glance where I shouldn’t and yep, it’s growing. I lick my lips before I can think better of it. Don’t lick your lips again , I urge myself.
“Maggie,” he growls, and my eyes veer up to his. “Get out. Now.”
“R-Right.” I blink so fast that my vision blurs. “So sorry, Mr. Banks. I-I mean Derek.” I shake my head and turn away quickly, closing the door behind me before I rush out of the bedroom with his laundry basket.
I spend the next hour hiding out in what the staff calls the laundry room when really it’s a building, and try to erase from my mind the delicious, hot as sin sight of my boss in nothing but his birthday suit…
And I’m failing.
Big time.