Read Landon's Obsession: An Endless Series: Book 3 (Series 3) for Free Online Page A

Finally she pulled back and turned off the vacuum, and
I lowered the settee back to the floor. “Have you gotten to the other sofa and
chairs yet?” I asked.
         She stared at me with a small frown. “Uhm, yes, but
thank you.” Bending down she pulled off one of the cushions.
         I followed her move, pulling up the other one.
Underneath was relatively clean, with only a few popcorn kernels and two
chocolate kiss wrappers—from my father’s hidden stash—but there was some random
crap as well; like a pen, a few coins, and a cuff-link.
         I picked up the cuff-link. “I wondered where that went
to. Are settee’s the collectors of all lost shit?”
         Maya threw me a cautious side glance…she seemed to
always be looking at me that way. “Of course they are. You’ve never gone
looking for something in the cracks of the cushions before?”
         I shrugged. “No. If I lose something I either forget
about it, or ask Rita to keep an eye out for it.”
         Maya’s face darkened in displeasure, but before I could
question her she flipped on the vacuum. Jerking her arms back and forth
forcefully, she sucked up the debris that had been under the cushion, as well
as the cushions themselves. Her face remained tight with irritation the whole
time and I wondered what I’d said to light this fire in her. Did she think I
was lazy because I didn’t go searching for shit? Or did she resent that I
didn’t need to. It wasn’t my fault I was rich and she wasn’t. It really irked
me sometimes when people without money held people with money in umbrage
because of what we had.     
         Turning off the vacuum she jammed the cushions back on
the settee.
         “What’s your problem? You mad because I don’t go
searching through settee cushions.” I sneered.
         She frowned up at me. “No, I could care less if you go
searching through couch cushions.”
         Now I was really stumped. “So why are you giving
attitude right now?”
          She sighed and pursed her lips, studying me for about
four seconds. “I find it…strange that you all call my mama Rita.”
         I frowned in mystification…and at her use of the word ‘ mama’ .
It made her sound like she was twelve. I didn’t want to think of Maya as twelve
years old. I knew there were many families that used that term for their mother,
but I always found it odd; especially when grown men used it.
         “What are you talking about? Do you think we should
address her formally; as Ms…shit, I don’t even know your mother’s last name.”
         Maya rolled her eyes. “It’s Cornett, and that just
makes it worse. You didn’t know my mama’s last name either.” She picked up the
two throw pillows and slammed them together, dispersing the dust on them.
         I felt like throwing up my arms in frustration. “I’m
sorry I don’t know your mother’s last name. Around here I’ve only heard her
first name. And what are you talking about when you say ‘ either’ ?”
         Maya tossed the pillows on the settee at each end, and
then straightened putting her hands on her hips. She was wearing another white
t-shirt that stretched just enough over her breasts to outline them nicely.
Dark pants and a white shirt was the standard attire for the house staff,
though it was usually a white blouse.
         “My mama’s name isn’t Rita.”
         I jerked my gaze from her body up to her face in
stunned bafflement. “What?!” The girl wasn’t making any sense. We’d been
calling her mother Rita for six years.
         Maya turned and hauled the vacuum back toward the wall
where she unplugged the cord. She began winding it up. “My mama’s name is
RaKesha, not Rita.”
         My confusion peaked. “Oaky, wait a second.” I waved my
hands and then rubbed my brow. “Your mother’s name is RaKesha?”
         Maya nodded.
         “Is Rita a shortened version of her