Page 9 of King of Desire

I rumble with frustration at the trap I’ve made for myself.

If I wanted to fuck her, I should probably just do it, and then send her on her way with a generous parting gift. Then again, Mason is clearly invested in Smith Enterprises, and for my future plans to move forward, I’ll need Mason’s support.

Which means keeping my hands off Honeyeh. I don’t date anyone for longer than a month. It’s an iron rule that keeps women from getting too attached. And as my business plans will not develop in such a short time, I need to leave the tempting new maid alone.

“Light duty? Should I have her dust?” Mrs. Raith eyes me with understandable suspicion. She is an excellent manager of my household, discreet, agreeable, but with enough grit that the staff follows her without complaint or incident.

“Dusting works,” I nod, rising from my chair. “Where is Honeyeh now?”

The woman’s brows lift a fraction on an inch. The change is almost indiscernible, but I catch the judgment. It was unlike her and unwelcome. I stare back until she answers, “My office. Door is open.”

Striding out of my office, I head down the back stairs. Adjusting the tie at my neck, I smooth it down as I make my way down the stairs. I stop in the doorway, catching sight of Honeyeh. She nips at her lip, fiddling with the pen as she stares at the papers in front of her.

A pretty little dress drapes down her body, her feet crossed at the ankles with strappy sandals decorating them.

Her skirt had ridden up a bit, revealing a generous length of her legs and I devour the view, as she reads the papers in front her, oblivious to my watchful gaze.

Her mouth purses, her bottom lip puffing out as her brow furrows. I’d like to stare at her all day but… “Need help?”

She jumps, the pen falling from her hand and landing on the floor as she gives a small yelp. “Mr. Smith.”

“Triston,” I correct. There is no point in pretending this isn’t partially personal. And the entire staff will understand the distinction. Honeyeh might be a maid, but she is here by my grace and that of the Kincaids.

I know I’m dancing with trouble, but I want to hear my name on her lips.

I step into the room and drop down on a knee to retrieve the pen.

But she bends down too, our hands meeting on the pen, my fingers covering hers.

Her skin is as silky as I’d imagined, and I stroke my thumb over the back of her hand.

Her head snaps up, her eyes wide, her lips only a few inches from mine as they softly part in surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Smith—er—Triston.”

My cock stiffens. “No need.” I don’t make any attempt to move, her heady honey-floral scent filling my nostrils. “How’s the paperwork coming?”

“Good.” She starts to pull back, but I tighten my grip on her hand. This was a bad idea. I should just fuck her. “I was…um…reading the nondisclosure.”

“Were you? Most people just sign. I actually have Mrs. Raith review that section with employees on their first day to be sure every employee understands.”

She nips at her lip. “I’m a pre-law major, so I guess, maybe, I read contracts differently from most people.”

“Pre-law? Interesting choice.” I finally let her go, knowing I’ve pushed past the edge of acceptable already.

She straightens up, taking the pen with her. “I think the legal system and the principles of democracy in the United States are wonderful. I’d love to be part of it.”

I should have asked her this question before I hired her as a maid. I could have brought her on as an assistant to an assistant in the real estate office. It would have better experience for her and then she wouldn’t be in my house.

Then again, a whole bunch of the men who work there would be free to ogle her. I stiffen in a bit of irritation at the idea of other men’s eyes on her. Jesus fucking Christ, I cannot afford to become possessive. “What year are you in school?”

Her hands clasp in her lap. “Only a sophomore.”

No wonder she seems so innocent. “Just two years into your degree?”

“I can only afford to take a few classes at a time, and so it’s taking a long time.”

How old does that make her? I stand back up, my eyes glancing to the pile of papers in front of her. “Did you need any help?” This is Mrs. Raith’s job, not mine. But again, Honeyeh is not a normal hire.

Honeyeh shakes her head. “No. Thank you, though.”

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