Finn (Blue-Collar Billionaires 2)

“It has to be you. You.”

“The contract said that we couldn’t send a different maid. I’m not here as a maid. I’m here as the owner.”

“It will be you or the entire deal is void. I want you here everyday. You’ll clean and decorate the place. The only area of the penthouse forbidden to you is the master bedroom.”

He’s being so unreasonable that I have to fight back a tide of curse words. It’s like he’s determined to make this as difficult as possible. Then I realize that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

“If we're expected to clean the entire building then I’ll be of more use directing the cleaning crews.”

“It’s you or no one. Think carefully, Rissa. I don’t think the bank will give you any more extensions on your loan.”

His casual mention of my loan just confirms what I already suspect. He knows just how precarious my financial situation is and he’s using that to his advantage. I wonder if he laughed as he made the offer, knowing that I would have to take it. He probably thought it was amusing to dangle this big contract in front of me and then watch me scramble to meet all the requirements.

But I have no choice but to dance to his tune. Because he’s right, if I miss any other payments the bank might call my business loan. I have too many employees counting on me to fail now.

“Fine. I’ll be here tomorrow by eight.”

His face doesn't change but something in his expression relaxes. He was expecting me to protest again, to fight harder. Why is this so important to him? The vibe I'm getting from him definitely isn't romantic but his insistence on keeping me close doesn't make sense otherwise.

He gives me a small smile. "Don't be late."

Then he turns and walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of a beautiful vacant apartment all alone.

CHAPTER THREE

FINN

I’ve been living alone ever since I was twenty. It's been a long time since I woke up to the sound of someone in my space. My dreams are still hanging in the back of my mind so I'm not sure how much is real. I can only guess what some of the sounds translate to. Faint shuffling sounds could be her feet moving over the hardwood. Something bangs. Probably cabinets closing as she looks for cleaning supplies. I can picture her in my mind, moving around my kitchen.

The image of her from the prior day is burned onto my retinas. It’s not that I didn’t know what she would look like. The reports I have on her are filled with pictures. Smiling pictures, angry pictures. Pictures of her from the society pages on the arm of the man she left me for.

None of them could have prepared me for the sight of Marissa Blake in the flesh.

I’d originally thought I’d sit out front and watch her clean but after yesterday, I find I don’t have the same level of enthusiasm for this plan that I thought I would. Punishing her sounded like such a great idea before this. I wanted to bring her here and show her everything she could have had. Show her that she chose wrong and that I’m not just some loser that couldn’t take care of her properly. But that was before I saw her. There’s something different in her eyes now. She looks like she’s been punished some by life already.

And now I just want to lie here with my eyes closed and indulge in the completely ridiculous fantasy that Rissa is in my apartment because she wants to be.

The fact that I even want to imagine that pisses me off so I throw the covers back and roll to the side. My leg aches like a bitch already and I haven’t even gotten up yet. Pain is so exhausting. It takes everything I have some days to fight through it.

I finally sit up and manage to stand. Luckily once I’m upright the sharp pains settle into a dull ache. Hopefully a hot shower will ease it a l

ittle. At least long enough for me to get through the morning. I don’t want Rissa to see me like this. Then I remember her shock and pity at seeing my cane yesterday. She’s probably already glad she didn’t end up with me. Andrew Carrington is a prick but at least he's whole.

There's another bang up front and I glance over at the clock. It's a little after seven. Clever thing. I can't help but be impressed. The contract specified that she was to be here by eight. It never stated that she couldn't come earlier.

I'm sure she was hoping to wake me up.

My mood darkens as I realize that Marissa is remembering the boy who loved to sleep in. The man is used to Army hours and waking at seven is considered lazing the day away. Plus, time doesn't mean the same thing when you have insomnia most nights.

By the time I emerge after my shower, everything is quiet. In a panic, I move down the hallway. The kitchen is empty and I whirl around, wanting to punch the cabinets. There’s no way she finished everything and the contract specifically states that she’s supposed to be here until noon.

“Finn, what are you doing?”

I turn at the sound of her voice. She’s using some kind of tool to brush the cushions of the couch. Relief sweeps through me.

She didn’t leave.

Then I take in the shocked look on her face. She’s very deliberately looking anywhere but at me. Her cheeks slowly turn pink.