27

I shut the door and follow after him. He strolls into the space like he’s been here a hundred times before, making a beeline for Winston’s bar area across the living room. I relax a little knowing he’s used to hanging out here. Pulling out my phone, I start to text Winston but then worry I might distract him from his meeting. I’ll see how this goes with Nate and then decide if I need to text him. Surely, I can handle his friend all by myself.

Nate pours himself a tumbler of amber liquid and then holds his glass up. “Can I offer you one?” “No thanks. I’m supposed to be working.” I give him a curt smile.

“Take a break and indulge me in small talk.” He walks over to the sofa and sits down. “Do you live here now?”

I scoff at his words. “No. I’m his maid, not his girlfriend.”

“Hmm,” is all he says, winking at me over the top of his glass as he sips it. “You’ll have to pardon me. Winston is a mysterious man. We’ve been friends for years, and I’ve never seen him so . . . smitten.”

Smitten seems like such a trivial word for Winston.

Obsessed. Consumed. Paralyzed by the need to throw money at me. That’s more the Winston I know. “He’s a complicated man,” I agree as I pick up my duster. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I stick to dusting in the same room as him so I can keep an eye on him. He messes with his phone as he drinks, clearly already bored at having to wait for his friend. Good. Maybe he’ll leave soon.

The doorbell rings, and I jump. Why are all these people showing up? Nate stands, a frown of concern painted on his face.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asks.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone, but you people keep showing up,” I grumble.

He prowls after me like he thinks he needs to protect me. I do relax a bit knowing he’s here. If it’s Scout, I don’t think Nate would allow him to hurt me. I peek through the hole and let out a relieved sigh.

“It’s just the doorman,” I murmur. “Good. I’ll enjoy my drink then.”

Nate walks off, and I answer the door. The doorman smiles at me. He has a cart loaded down with boxes

and garment bags.

“These are from Mr. Carly. He said it’s all he could do in a pinch, but he’s working on a more extensive wardrobe. May I come in and unload your things, Miss Elliott?”

I nod, shocked that not only does he know my name, but that Carly managed to get me clothes already. The doorman drags the cart inside, and I usher him down the hall to the guest room I’ve come to think of as mine. He puts away each item in the closet and the dresser drawers. As he turns to leave, I stop him.

“Wait, I uh, let me get some cash for a tip,” I blurt out.

He chuckles. “Don’t insult Mr. Constantine, Miss Elliott. He pays me well enough that I never need accept any tips from this condo. Have a great day.”

As soon as he leaves, I make my way back into the living room, but Nate isn’t there. Nerves shoot through me, making me tremble. I hurry down the hall, peeking in each room, looking to see where he went. When I come up empty, I start for the stairs. He appears at the top, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You shouldn’t be up there,” I gripe. “There’s no reason to go upstairs.”

“Ahh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Nate says with a maddening smirk. “Your fancy boss man has heated towels in his bathroom. The guest bathroom downstairs doesn’t offer such amenities. He’s spoiled me to those damn warm towels.”

Rich boys and their prissy needs. Gross.

He makes his way down the stairs. I’ve almost started back on my task of pretend dusting when my phone rings in my pocket. I yank it out and answer, expecting Winston. Instead, Manda’s voice purrs down the line.

“Hello, darling,” she croons. “How is your work for Mr. Constantine coming along?” “Just dandy.”

Nate eyes me with curiosity as he helps himself to another drink. I don’t want to leave him alone again for privacy, but I also don’t want to have a conversation with my stepmother in front of him. In the end, I opt for hiding in the kitchen out of earshot, but where I can still keep an eye on him. Manda rambles, and it isn’t until she mentions Scout that I realize I’ve missed nearly all of what she’s said.

“What?” I croak out.

“I said I apologize for my son’s behavior. I can assure you it won’t happen again.” She knows? How?

“What did he say happened?”

She sighs. “That he got rough with you. Hurt you. Like Mr. Constantine said, he indeed bit you—” “Wait. You spoke to Winston?”

“I did,” she says, her smile wide in her voice. “He explained how important you are to him. Mentioned that Scout had hurt you. Sweetie, next time just come to me. We can handle our family matters without assistance from Mr. Constantine. It was rather embarrassing to be called at work this morning regarding what happened. You know how Scout can be. He’s broody like his father.”

“Did you tell Dad?”

“Heavens no,” she breathes. “Your father is a busy man. I can handle my children.”

Silence fills the air as I wait for her to continue. After a beat, she continues cheerfully as though we didn’t just gloss over the fact her son sexually assaulted me, bit me, and threatened me.

“After your shift with Mr. Constantine, I’ll pick you up for a much-needed girls’ night,” Manda says. “Just the two of us. We’ll go to our favorite restaurant.”

I really don’t want to hang out with my stepmother, but I can’t hide out at Winston’s forever. “Sure,” I mumble. “Is that it?”

“Dress nicely, sweetie. You’re making a name for yourself in the elite society being Mr. Constantine’s new

plaything. If you’re seen in public, you need to be absolutely flawless.” She chuckles. “No more sloppiness.”

“Winston had some clothes delivered. I’ll be dressed just fine.”

“Did he now?” She can barely contain her excitement. “I knew he was taken with you. If he’s buying you clothes, sweetie, it won’t be long before he’s buying you a ring too. The Constantine name will certainly suit you.”

It’s annoying that I’m suddenly deemed important now that Winston is in my life. Whatever. I’ll take it if it keeps her bastard sons off my back.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Manda. He bought me clothes. It’s not a marriage proposal.”

“Not yet,” she says. “Text me the location and when your shift ends. I’ll be by to pick you up. Goodbye, darling.”

I hang up the phone, huffing in annoyance. When I glance up, Nate is leaned against the counter in the kitchen, his playfulness gone. His eyes are narrowed, and his arms are crossed over his chest.

“Trying to get the great Winston Constantine to marry you? That’s what this is all about?” he asks, his brows furling. “A gold digger through and through?”

“What? No. It’s just my stepmother,” I groan. “Forget you overheard any of that conversation.” “I should get going now.” He gives me a polite smile. “And, honey, I never forget a thing.”