“I’ll be as quiet as a kitten, then,” I said evenly, trying to sound like I had no memory of that night, of that kiss, when we both knew I did. I could see it in his eyes.
Shit.We really needed to set some boundaries if I was actually going to clean his stupid house and live right next door.
“Um, it’s probably better, actually, if I come when you’re not here,” I suggested. “I can use Shayla’s key so you don’t even have to let me in.”
He gave me a skeptical look. I knew he was hyper vigilant, like paranoid-level, about security and stuff. But come on. He knew Shayla had a key and we were in and out of here all the time when he wasn’t here.
“So I’m not in your way, and vice versa,” I elaborated. “I’m not some random off the street who’s gonna snoop in your music studio and stuff. Believe me. If I wanted to leak the next big hit, I’d snoop in my sister’s studio.”
The look in his eyes iced over. “Has anyone ever told you how incredibly charming you are, Angeline Delacroix?”
“Yes. What time of day are you not around?”
He glared at me for a long moment. “Mornings. I’m usually gone by now.”
Gone where, I didn’t ask. I didn’t exactly pay attention to his comings and goings when he was in town, even when I hung out at Shayla’s. The gym, probably, because having one at home wasn’t enough. Breakfast buffet at a strip club. Happy ending massage. Whatever. As long as he was gone.
“Great. How often does your cleaner come?”
He sighed shortly, like he couldn’t believe he was even entertaining this conversation. And annoyed, maybe, that he hadn’t intimidated me into shutting up and slinking away yet. “Once a week.”
“Great,” I said brightly. Once a week would leave me plenty of time to look for a real job. “I can start today if you’re heading out.”
“You’ll start tomorrow.”
Thank God. Because today I very possibly needed to dry heave, then eat, then puke, then sleep off this hangover. Then repeat, as many times as it took until I could actually keep food down and my skull stopped throbbing.
Johnny had started up the floating stairs. “Wonderful!” I called after him, trying not to stare at his bare, athletic legs. The man was freakin’ Adonis. With the soul of Hades. “You won’t regret it!”
“You will,” he said ominously. “My friends are fucking pigs.”
ChapterEight
Angeline
The next morning, I woke up hungover all over again.
Shayla had dragged me out to a party, that wily bitch. But at least this time I didn’t wake up on the floor.
Small wins.
I was in one of Shayla’s guest bedrooms, wrapped in her best guest linens; girl knew how to pick out a bedsheet. Unfortunately, I was also in last night’s clothes.
I stretched my achy, mildly nauseous body. I really needed to stop drinking. No more booze in this body for at least a week. Though there was the big party at Champagne this weekend…
Okay, no booze until then.
I dragged myself upright, gradually remembering that I had a job to do today. I did not want to clean Johnny’s house. However, I did want a job and a home.
Fuck. Adulting sucked.
I forced myself to get up and face the music—meaning my bedraggled self—in the bathroom mirror. Last night’s party dress was a now-rumpled little mint-green number edged in sequins that I’d borrowed from Shayla. She always called me Bedroom Barbie when I wore it.
Flynn hated that.
In fact, I wasn’t too sure he was much of a fan of Shayla in general.
Damn it. Why was I still thinking about him? All. The. Time.
