Page 17 of King of Desire

“Why not?”

“He’s the best man for that job, first. And second…there is a lot more room for collateral damage when you add in a building full of women.”

Killian grimaces. “I don’t like it either. If Chloe ever found out I was hanging around a brothel, she’d cut off my balls.”

“That’s your big worry? An entire force of Russian Bratva guard those places and you’re concerned about a petite blonde?”

“Bratva I can take,” he mutters. “If Chloe kicks me out of our bed, I really will go insane.”

There is so much wrong with that sentence, I don’t even know where to begin. Men quake in front of Killian. Does Chloe really hold that much power?

Could the sex really be that good?

I immediately think of Honeyeh and those white panties. What would sinking into her feel like? Jesus, I’m about to be in real trouble, because I want to find out.

CHAPTER SIX

Honeyeh

Mrs. Raith’seyes slide down me as I model the uniform she’s provided. It’s a simple black Oxford dress with a collar and buttons down the front, but it’s darted in such a way that it hugs my curves.

It’s paired with black Keds that are supportive but cute.

“During events, we trade out the sneakers for heeled shoes. They’re less comfortable but more appropriate for the events. A few of the black-tie events, like the one this Friday, you’ll be provided with a simple knee-length black dress with a square neck.”

I saw the cleaning crew, the ones that really scrub the house. They had on white pants and a white shirt with the same Keds in white.

“We ask that you wear other shoes when travelling to the house and bring these to change into, so that they’re only worn in the house.”

I nod, it makes sense that it keeps the house cleaner.

“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask,” she finishes, handing me a sheet that looks like a schedule.

“What is this?”

“It’s Mr. Smith’s comings and goings during the work week. Your job is to dust when he isn’t using a room. He’s still down in the gym, so if you’d like to start with his room, you should be able to get it done before he’s back upstairs for his shower.”

“I will,” I take a deep breath as Mrs. Raith hands me a cleaning basket with all the supplies I’ll need.

“And remember, Honeyeh, we don’t miss spots. Everything should be perfect.”

“Perfect,” I repeat. Making my way up the back stairs by her office, I crack open the door to Triston’s bedroom and do a quick scan to make certain the room is empty before I get to work.

I start with the bathroom, running the duster over surfaces like the sills, the top of the mirrors, the light fixtures.

I can only assume these surfaces are not touched by the cleaning crew, but I’ll double check with them later.

Finishing the bathroom, I make my way into the bedroom.

The room is done in muted but masculine tones of taupes and greys. The large bed has all white bedding. I can’t even imagine keeping something like that clean.

My mouth twitches down as I dust the greige end tables, moving the few items placed on the top to make sure I’m getting the entire surface.

The bed sits in a wooden frame with modern lines, and I dust the edges, making my way around the entire bed.

The room is so quiet, my mind is free to wander as I work, mostly filled with thoughts of the man who lives here. Is it wrong that I’m picturing being in this bed with him? The way his hands would feel, the way he might bend me over the edge…

I keep dusting, moving around the windows to a streamlined dresser with a cityscape painting over the top.

---