really, really, pissed. Her body is releasing chemicals and the rate of her pulse suggests she’s in an unpredictable range from bitterness to rage. Oh, and I'm picking up on a little bit of smugness since she ruined your shirt and she knew it would make you mad. Despite what Olivia thinks, I’m betting that she’ll definitely quit. She’s 100% done with you.”
I nodded. Her anger was for the best, even though I wasn't sure it was what I wanted anymore. Since when did I get what I wanted, anyway? And this? Whatever this was fell into a realm of impossibility. My life had been about sacrifice and discipline, especially the last couple of decades. Amelia Chase was simply another sacrifice I had to make.
Chapter 17
Amelia
I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw a sweaty, red-faced mess. I took a finger and rubbed at a swipe of dirt smudged across my face. All that did was make a darker red mark on my already red skin. Wisps of hair stuck to my cheeks and neck. I tried to tidy up but that only made it worse. Shifting my gaze downward, I saw the full destruction of Mr. Palmer’s shirt. The fabric was splotchy with bleach and smeared with grime.
Good.
I didn't feel bad.
The controlling bastard deserved it.
I had two hours left before the end of the day, but I was done. My plan was to leave Mr. Palmer my pre-written letter of resignation on my desk where he could find it when he came by for my daily report.
Daily report: I QUIT.
The thought of leaving that note and the look of confusion on his perfectly featured face made me smile for the first time all day. Sure, I could walk away without leaving the note, but I had a tiny scrap of professional dignity remaining. Barefoot and dirty, I left the bathroom like a hillbilly and walked to my desk, placing the letter on the corner where he would definitely see it.
I had my bag and my shoes and I needed to stop in the kitchen to remove my food and other items. I wanted to leave Mr. Palmer's home the way I found it and remove every trace of my presence. So that I would be nothing more than a blip in his life. Two weeks of disturbance in his routine and stagnant existence. Maybe next time he’d hire a robot instead.
I had my head in the refrigerator when, to my absolute horror, I heard feet on the back stairs. Crap. There went my scrap of dignity.
Mr. Palmer stood at the bottom of the steps and I noticed his hands were full of trash. I saw a tall, lanky man standing behind him carrying an arm load of what appeared to be parts of a chair. Mr. Palmer wore the normal, pained grimace on his face that I'd come to expect.
We stood for a moment in silence while his eyes traveled down my body, taking in his T-shirt and my disheveled appearance. I held my breath for a moment waiting for his reaction. The absurdity of my behavior crashed down on me. I felt like a child. A child who desecrated something very important to the bastard in front of me.
Okay, my guilt didn’t last long.
Oh, also? The fact he was overwhelmingly gorgeous when he was mad only made the situation worse. Or better? I had no idea. I lost all sense of rationality when I saw the tense lines of his jaw and the spark of fire in his violet eyes.
I felt the heat rush to my face as I realized he could call the police and have me escorted off the property or arrested. Maybe I hadn't thought this all the way through.
I heard a stifled cough from behind Mr. Palmer. The other man leaned around Mr. Palmer and I saw that he, too, was incredibly handsome. The hint of amusement in his eyes was not lost on me.
Perfect timing to grow a backbone, Amelia.
Cutting our awkward standoff short, Mr. Palmer walked past me out the garage door without a word. The other man followed but gave me a wide smile and nod of encouragement, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
I let out a deep, rattling breath, realizing at that moment, I'd been holding it for some time.
“Nice knowing you, jackass,” I said, to the empty room,
I nodded. Her anger was for the best, even though I wasn't sure it was what I wanted anymore. Since when did I get what I wanted, anyway? And this? Whatever this was fell into a realm of impossibility. My life had been about sacrifice and discipline, especially the last couple of decades. Amelia Chase was simply another sacrifice I had to make.
Chapter 17
Amelia
I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw a sweaty, red-faced mess. I took a finger and rubbed at a swipe of dirt smudged across my face. All that did was make a darker red mark on my already red skin. Wisps of hair stuck to my cheeks and neck. I tried to tidy up but that only made it worse. Shifting my gaze downward, I saw the full destruction of Mr. Palmer’s shirt. The fabric was splotchy with bleach and smeared with grime.
Good.
I didn't feel bad.
The controlling bastard deserved it.
I had two hours left before the end of the day, but I was done. My plan was to leave Mr. Palmer my pre-written letter of resignation on my desk where he could find it when he came by for my daily report.
Daily report: I QUIT.
The thought of leaving that note and the look of confusion on his perfectly featured face made me smile for the first time all day. Sure, I could walk away without leaving the note, but I had a tiny scrap of professional dignity remaining. Barefoot and dirty, I left the bathroom like a hillbilly and walked to my desk, placing the letter on the corner where he would definitely see it.
I had my bag and my shoes and I needed to stop in the kitchen to remove my food and other items. I wanted to leave Mr. Palmer's home the way I found it and remove every trace of my presence. So that I would be nothing more than a blip in his life. Two weeks of disturbance in his routine and stagnant existence. Maybe next time he’d hire a robot instead.
I had my head in the refrigerator when, to my absolute horror, I heard feet on the back stairs. Crap. There went my scrap of dignity.
Mr. Palmer stood at the bottom of the steps and I noticed his hands were full of trash. I saw a tall, lanky man standing behind him carrying an arm load of what appeared to be parts of a chair. Mr. Palmer wore the normal, pained grimace on his face that I'd come to expect.
We stood for a moment in silence while his eyes traveled down my body, taking in his T-shirt and my disheveled appearance. I held my breath for a moment waiting for his reaction. The absurdity of my behavior crashed down on me. I felt like a child. A child who desecrated something very important to the bastard in front of me.
Okay, my guilt didn’t last long.
Oh, also? The fact he was overwhelmingly gorgeous when he was mad only made the situation worse. Or better? I had no idea. I lost all sense of rationality when I saw the tense lines of his jaw and the spark of fire in his violet eyes.
I felt the heat rush to my face as I realized he could call the police and have me escorted off the property or arrested. Maybe I hadn't thought this all the way through.
I heard a stifled cough from behind Mr. Palmer. The other man leaned around Mr. Palmer and I saw that he, too, was incredibly handsome. The hint of amusement in his eyes was not lost on me.
Perfect timing to grow a backbone, Amelia.
Cutting our awkward standoff short, Mr. Palmer walked past me out the garage door without a word. The other man followed but gave me a wide smile and nod of encouragement, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
I let out a deep, rattling breath, realizing at that moment, I'd been holding it for some time.
“Nice knowing you, jackass,” I said, to the empty room,
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