Their reactions couldn’t be more different: the older woman smiles, her expression seemingly pleased by my presence, while the younger one’s eyes trail down Dameon’s bare chest before fixing on me with a sneer. An actual sneer—I didn’t realize people still did that. She wrinkles her nose like she’s just stepped in dog shit and gives my naked body a disdainful once-over.
“This is Eloise, my talented chef,” Dameon says, gesturing to the poised woman in chef whites. “She ensures I’m well-fed every day, too well if you ask me.”
“Psh, if anything, you need more fattening up,” she retorts, lips pursed. “Hello, dear. It’s a pleasure to meet you. If there’s anything specific you’d like to eat, don’t hesitate to let me know.” To her credit, her eyes never shift below my chin.
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”
“And this is Maddy, my housekeeper. She keeps everything in order and spotless.”
I bet she does.
And I bet she doesn’t mind polishing his knob, either. There’s no way they haven’t fucked. Not when she prances around with that ridiculously tight shirt with her bra peeking out, a full face of makeup, and blown-out hair. No one goes to that much effort for their job. Not even me, and my role is literally to seduce men.
“Nice to meet you, Maddy.” I fake a smile.
“It’s Madeline. Only those close to me call me Maddy.”
Oh, they’ve definitely hooked up.
“For goodness’ sake, Maddy, would it kill you to be nice?” Eloise rolls her eyes. “Once you’ve finished with the stone bench, the oven needs cleaning.”
“Since when do you tell me what to do? I don’t work for you, orher, for that matter.”
“No, but you work for me,” Dameon warns. “Be nice, Maddy,” he adds, dismissing her like an annoying fly.
Dameon laces his fingers through mine and leads me back to the bedroom. I’m itching to ask him about Maddy and the status of their relationship. On one hand, it’s none of my business. But if I’m living here for the next twelve months, I need to know what I’m dealing with. I have a right to know the score. But I also don’t want him thinking I can’t handle a little cattiness or that I care if he’s fucking someone else.
Shit, this is a mind fuck.
I swallow the burning question on the tip of my tongue, and it goes down like acid.
“I’m going to jump in the shower and head to work. I’ll see you tonight.” He plants a quick peck on my lips and disappears into the bathroom.
What the hell am I supposed to do all day?
***
Ouch. Fuck.
I gently massage aloe vera gel into my chest, welcoming the soothing coolness seeping into my burning skin. Glancing over my shoulder into the mirror, I grimace at the sight of my bright red back.
Crap.
I can’t reach my back, so I slather on another thick layer of gel across my chest and shoulders instead. My skin sizzles and prickles as the gel works its magic. This is ridiculous. I look like a lobster. I wouldn’t be surprised if it starts blistering. Serves me right for being lazy and not going back to grab the sunscreen.
After Dameon headed off to work, I decided to give the penthouse a wide berth, especially with bitch face Maddy lurking about. I didn’t want to interrupt Beth while she was kicking off her homeschooling today, either. So, I roamed around Bondi, taking in the sights and sounds. Bondi has such a unique vibe—it’s got an international flair, with loads of tourists and backpackers, but there’s also a tight-knit local community. You can spot the locals easily, especially the women in their Lululemon leggings, inflated tits and lips. My mother would feel right at home here. After signing up for a Pilates class—apparently it’s quite the thing to do in Bondi, with more studios than organic juice bars—I took a leisurely stroll along the beach.
Walking along the shoreline, feeling the warm sand between my toes while the sun blazed overhead, was pure bliss. I stripped down to my bikini and threw on a hat and sunglasses, but a quick rummage of my bag revealed that in my excitement, I had forgotten the damn sunscreen. The thought of going back to fetch it felt like too much effort.
I always knew my laziness would get me killed one day, but I didn’t think I would be going out with heat stroke at the start of spring. When I got back to the empty penthouse, a glance in the mirror confirmed my fear—that I had fucked up. Downing a bottle of water, I collapsed into bed, exhausted from the sweltering heat. When I woke up in the afternoon, it was worse. Much worse. My skin, at first a mild pink, now blazed a furious red.
Fifteen minutes ago, Dameon texted that he was on his way home. Now I’m standing in front of the mirror, feeling sorry for myself, and praying that aloe vera works miracles. My skin is like the surface of the sun, and I could almost cry from the pain. Giving myself a quick once-over, I can’t help but half laugh and half cry at the sorry sight. Wiping under my eyes, I sniffle and head downstairs to wait for him.
Chapter thirteen
Dameon
Mydriverpullsupin front of my building, and I exhale loudly into the still air of the car. It’s been a clusterfuck of a day, but the thought of returning to my goddess, patiently waiting on her knees for me, has made it that much more bearable.
