Page 6 of Arrogant and Merciless

“You’re forgiven,” she replies, though without much warmth. “Just don’t tell your grandmother about this, or I really will have to quit. Pretend you never barged into the bathroom and saw me naked. Can you do that?”

No.

“Yes, we should forget this ever happened.”

She starts for the door again, without another word or glance.

I haven’t even seen my grandmother yet. I came straight from surgery, hoping to shower and then spend a few hours with her.

I follow Taylor to Maryann’s room, and before going in, I hear my grandmother talking to her companion, who arrived only seconds before me.

“You’re eleven and a half minutes late, Taylor. I almost ate your cookies without you!”

“That water was amazing, Mrs. Marshall. I think it was the best shower of my life,” she says.

She doesn’t sound sarcastic; she sounds like she genuinely enjoyed it. And there’s nothing special about that bathroom—it’s small and basic. Yet the girl just said it was the best shower of her life?

I can’t recall many times when I’ve felt embarrassed, but that’s exactly how I feel now. Especially because, now that I’m no longer angry, all I can think about is that pale, milky-white body, naked and wet.

Taylor

CHAPTER FOUR

I’m notsure if Mrs. Marshall has noticed that I’ve barely spoken since her grandson joined us in her room. I haven’t looked at him even once, because now that I’m calm, the embarrassment of what happened has hit me full-force. Less than half an hour ago, I was standing naked in front of my employer’s grandson.

If it were up to me, I’d leave right now. But aside from the fact that I’m still in the middle of my workday, I don’t want to disappoint my employer. She’s thrilled about the photographs I found.

“William, here’s one of you as a baby,” she says. “My goodness, you were the cutest little boy in the world. You still are!”

Despite my best efforts, my eyes automatically shift to him. I catch the faintest trace of a smile on his face, though he still looks as cold as if he were carved from stone. And though that glimmer of amusement is meant for his grandmother, it’s me he’s looking at.

I already saw everything I needed to when he walked into the bathroom, but now I allow myself, stealthily, through lowered lashes, to observe him more closely.

Yes, the man is handsome. I have to agree he looks like his father, but it’s a superficial resemblance. William the Elder’s good looks are smooth and refined, while Mrs. Marshall’s grandson—despite wearing what must be a very expensive suit—emanates such an intense aura of power that I doubt he’s ever walked into a room without everyone’s eyes turning his way.

His hair is short, and though it’s mostly dark, there are a few silver strands. His father’s hair is completely gray already, so it must run in the family. William the Younger is also much taller—maybe around six-foot-two—while his father is probably under six feet.

Gorgeous as he is, though, there are two things that grab my attention more than anything else about Mrs. Marshall’s grandson: his eyes—somewhere between blue and gray—and that deep voice, the kind that belongs to someone born to command and that, for whatever reason, stirs a strange urge in me to obey him, no matter what.

I lower my head, pretending to look at the same photo I’ve been holding for almost five minutes, when in reality, I’m seething. How can I find this Neanderthal attractive?

Because no matter how handsome and powerful he is, his manners are abrasive. Rude, even.

I hear his grandmother telling him how much fun she’s been having since I started working here, and even Bonnie chimes in, saying I get the fun jobs while she does the heavy lifting.

As though I’m not even here, he asks his grandmother whether I’m going to school. I suppose he wants to know how someone without a degree ended up employed by his family. Bonnie explains about my father and my plans to become a nurse. The conversation bothers me. I don’t want this man knowing anything about my private life.

I glance at the watch on my wrist and realize I’m already ten minutes late. Aside from needing to be at the bar in an hour and a half at most, I want to get away from the doctor as fast as I can.

I’m about to stand up when my employer’s son walks in.

Jesus, they go ages without coming to see her, and when they do, it has to be on the same day?

The moment the surgeon’s father steps into his mother’s room, the air turns as chilly as I imagine the North Pole must be. The two men barely greet each other, and now I know why, or at least have a good guess based on what I was told: his father is a cheater who betrays his wife with younger women.

I can feel Mrs. Marshall’s tension as she tries to keep the peace between her son and grandson. Poor thing—how awful it must be to watch two of your closest family members locked in a Cold War.

I rise to my feet without looking at anyone but my employer. “I need to go, Mrs. Marshall.”

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