Read Sleeping With the Help (Toyboy Lover) for Free Online

Zeta Jones, in the right light,” I said sulkily. Well, a total of one person had said it, and he was drunk at the time. The only thing she and I had in common was our penchant for dating grandpas!
    Jake furrowed his brow, his face displaying his incredulity. “They do?”
    “Yes, they do!” I snapped. I waved him out of my office, turning back to my paperwork. “That's all.” I felt like giving him busy work for the rest of the day simply because he'd been so shocked about the Catherine Zeta Jones statement.
     
    I was already up and ready when Eduardo arrived that Friday morning. I was determined not to be caught in the nude again. Just as he had the day of the incident, he strutted around the mansion with a sort of smug, self-satisfied look on his face; each time I looked at him I saw him wearing it with pride. It was an inside joke at my expense. I felt like I would always be that naked woman scrambling for her towel.
    Fridays were my late starts, my sleep-in days, which normally resulted in the busiest days of the week. Interestingly, people needed more legal advice on Fridays than they did any other day of the week. I could have gone anywhere; had breakfast down by the marina, or gone for a jogging session through the park to “accidentally” bump into the handsome widower who walked his Border Collie at a particular time every morning, just to say hello. Instead I remained in the house with my shame, a morbid desire to stay with Eduardo, convincing myself that I could grow the balls to ask him what he found funny about me and my body.
    I found him out beside the pool, cleaning the surrounding area of leaves and debris that had blown over the fence from the neighbor's yard. His expression of pure concentration whenever he undertook a task was curiously sexy. It couldn't be said that he didn't put one hundred percent into his work, despite his stubbornness . His mother had been right about his diligence.
    I handed him his cell phone, which had been vibrating on the kitchen counter and annoying the crap out of me. He took it from me without looking at it, then mumbled a quiet, stilted thanks before returning to his task, his smugness as plain as day.
    “I think it would be best if you cross my room and laundry off your little list.”
    He didn't look up. “Fine. So you can do your own laundry, you just choose not to?”
    I narrowed my eyes at him, placing my hands on my hips. “I can do everything, but I don't need to. I'm rich.” I could have matched him in smugness right then. I was aware how much of a douche I sounded, rubbing my wealth in his face, but I only did it to get to him. Normally I would never be so tactless. But ever since our first encounter a tacit battle of wills had begun; I was simply playing my hand.
    He let his eyes do a slow roam of my body, from top to bottom, seemingly undressing me. I gulped.
    “You are rich, but beneath all of this, under all those fancy clothes, you're just like every other woman...”
    He held his wicked leer in place, eyes unblinking, waiting for my reaction to his spiteful words. He spoke with so much emphasis, so much feeling that I knew instantly what he was really doing. Putting me in my place, reminding me that he'd seen me in nothing, seen me at my most vulnerable. The Steel Woman; the naked woman. He'd reduced me to nothing but Eve in the Garden of Eden.
    My face grew hot. I clenched my fists, preparing for a fight that would never come. He didn't have to fight – he'd already won the battle.
    Raging at him wasn't an option. Not only would it have been highly unprofessional letting the fa ç ade slip, I didn't have a comeback; whatever I said would make me sound like a petulant child. I just wanted him out of my house, for good. Screw my promise to his mother. I hadn't been under oath, and I didn't owe them anything, no matter how much I'd convinced myself.
    “This isn't working out,” I said after awhile. I held back so much for the sake of decorum.