Waiting For You

He shook his head slowly. “Not all of them. I’m fully grown now, with the appetite of a man who’s waited for you for over four years. Almost five.”

“You have not waited since you were that young,” I scoffed.

“I have. And one day, probably soon, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Reaching out, he ran a loose strand of my hair between his fingers, playing with the strands and lifting goosebumps all over my body. Thank God, my apron hid the nipples that were likely pressing against the coarse fabric of my dress.

“I need to get back to work,” I whispered.

“I know.” Gently, he tucked the strand behind my ear. His hand dropped, and his curled knuckles lightly brushed over my arm. My breathing stuttered at the caress. Until I realized his stare had caught on the skin exposed at the edge of my sleeve. With careful fingers, he pushed up the hem.

“What happened here?” he asked, the sound strangled. His thumb feathered over the mottled skin.

“Um…I…”

“That bitch,” he rasped almost under his breath, guessing who did it. “That fucking bitch.”

“She’s your mother,” I protested.

“Unfortunately.” He took a shaky breath, as if steeling himself, and stepped back. He nodded toward my arm while I pushed the sleeve back into place. “I’m going to stop this. No one hurts you and gets away with it.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Just…just forget about it, okay? I have to get back to work. Unless you need something…sir.”

His eyebrow lifted. “One of these days… One of these days, I’m going to do something about that smart mouth of yours.”

I couldn’t hold back my smirk while I turned and walked away. That was something else to fantasize about, because we both knew “one of these days” was never happening.

Watching him depart, from the corner of my eye, a sense of longing filled me. I pushed it aside, though, and hurried back to work.

“What was that about?” Kinley asked with a knowing smile. Since we worked together daily, she knew how often Marshall came to talk to me.

“The usual.”

“And what’s the usual again?” she teased while she gathered her things into her caddy.

“Can’t tell you. NDA,” I snarked back. We both giggled. The NDA was a running joke in the household. We all knew how serious it was, that we couldn’t talk to outsiders about the goings on in the Kennedy house. Didn’t stop rampant staff gossip, however.

“Ladies.”

Ice raked down my spine at the slithery voice. Shoot! I’d wanted to be on my way to the servants’ wing before Mr. Henson, Marshall’s Uncle Niles, came home.

“Mr. Henson,” we both said. I hadn’t finished gathering my things, so I couldn’t scurry off as Kinley did. It didn’t pass my notice that she headed for the kitchen and Chef Andrews.

“I’ll be right out of your way,” I said. Shit shit shit!

He sat on the ottoman, his hip bumping the caddy I’d been about to grab. The contents were knocked off onto the floor, scattering.

“Oh, damn. Sorry.” His voice sounded about as insincere as one could get—a lot like Scar from the Lion King when forced to apologize. Except Scar wasn’t as evil. I stared at the mess, trying to keep my breathing from going choppy as I realized I had to kneel down near him to gather up everything. Worst of all being the canister of polish that had somehow managed to roll between his splayed feet.

This was it. This was the moment when I said screw this job and quit.

And do what? Go where? And how will you pay the bills you got saddled with when you left your ex?

Lecherous glee filled his smug stare as I dropped down to gather everything as quickly as I could. I was careful to stay as far from him as possible, resolving to not notice the polish near his foot. My hands shook as I reloaded my tools, then leapt back to my feet.

“You missed one,” he said when I spun away to march off.

I froze, my spine going to steel.