His Undercover Maid: An Instalove Possessive Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 190) Page 2

  It’s her.

  “Come in,” I say shortly, not wanting to betray my thoughts. I can actually feel my palms going clammy in anticipation. This is insane.

  She walks in and smiles awkwardly. She looks just the same as yesterday, with her hair scraped back in a net, her grey dress and sensible flats, but there’s something subtly different about her. She’s added some makeup that’s subtle but makes those beautiful eyes pop, and as she gets closer to my desk, I can smell a soft fragrance in the air. She’s made an effort too.

  I can’t help grinning at the thought.

  “Good morning Mr. Adams,” she says in that lilting voice.

  I roll my eyes. “I told you, call me Sebastian. There’s no need to stand on ceremony with me.”

  She looks amused. “Didn’t you once chew out a Times reporter for addressing you by your first name?”

  I wince, remembering the time a prominent journalist cornered me at a business conference, in spite of my insistence that I don’t do interviews.

  “That was years ago,” I protest. “And I hate reporters.”

  She visibly looks annoyed and I wonder if I’ve come across like a total snob. Her answer confirms exactly that.

  “I guess they are rather lower down the food chain than yourself.”

  Immediately, I realize what I’ve done wrong. She’s the maid, and I’m the boss. If I think reporters are beneath me, how must she think I view the cleaning staff? I want to tell her about my family, but I never discuss my private life with anyone.

  “It isn’t that,” I insist, feeling flustered. I’m not used to having to explain myself, but something about her has me trying to. “I just think reporters are scum...always looking to dig up dirt on people.”

  She presses her lips together and walks towards the cabinet with her duster, turning her back to me. I wonder what I’ve said wrong this time.

  This isn’t going how I expected.

  “Would you like some coffee? The machine is over there, you’re welcome to help yourself.”

  She looks over her shoulder at me, looking surprised. I’m relieved to see her face has softened.

  “Thank you. I could do with some. I’m not used to starting work so early. And as I found out yesterday...most of your colleagues aren’t as neat and tidy as you.”

  I smile, but inwardly seethe. I don’t like the idea of her working so hard, tidying up after people who can’t be bothered to do it for themselves.

  “Get a drink and have a sit down,” I offer.

  “Aren’t you busy? I don’t want to disturb you.”

  “Emails can wait,” I say and shut my laptop. Rose looks pleased as she heads over to the coffee machine. I watch her, wondering what she will have, and can’t help but smile as I see her go for a full fat mochaccino. So many women in this city are constantly watching their weight drinking skinny soy lattes – which don’t sound so great – but seem to be the order of the day.

  Rose carries her cup over and sits at the other side of my desk, looking nervous.

  “Tell me about yourself,” I say, and she turns the full force of those big gem green eyes on me.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Everything, I think, but instead I shrug.

  “Oh, I don’t know...anything you feel comfortable telling me. Why did you take this job? Where are you from? Your accent isn’t from round here.”

  “No,” she agrees, creasing a small smile. “I’m from a small town just outside of Michigan. But there’s no work there.”

  Which means she’s either poor or ambitious – or both. I can relate, although that reality seems like a very long time ago.

  “I get the impression cleaning isn’t first your job of choice?”

  She laughs then, and this time her whole face lights up. She really is stunning.

  “A job is a job. But no... I’ve always wanted to be a writer.” She hesitates on the last word and I get the impression there’s something she isn’t telling me. Then I remember her face when I mentioned the Times reporter and I sigh and rub a hand over my eyes.

  “You want to be a journalist, don’t you? That’s why you looked so offended a minute ago.” Jesus, I really am blowing this.

  “Maybe,” she acknowledges, looking down at her coffee. Then she glances up at the clock. “I really should get moving,” she says quickly. She takes a few mouthfuls of coffee and gets up to resume cleaning. I want to talk more, to learn more about her, but I feel like she has effectively shut the conversation down. I wonder why she’s so guarded...perhaps she had a bad experience with a boss in the past? The thought makes my blood boil as a surge of protectiveness comes over me. Which is crazy, because I don’t even know her...yet.

  But I will, I decide as I watch her dust, her ass wobbling temptingly in time with her movements.

  Work which used to hold all my interest had become boring, but now something has changed all that.

  My sexy new maid.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rose

  Another day done. I feel exhausted. Luckily Adrian wasn’t around much today so at least I didn’t have to deal with another grilling.

  Because so far, I have no story. Talking to other staff members and cleaners at Sebastian’s office has revealed nothing more exciting other than the fact he tends to keep to himself but is always polite. Hardly front-page worthy stuff. I haven’t caught even a whiff of a scandal.

  But I need a story. Which makes me exactly what Sebastian already thinks reporters are all about… ‘just trying to dig up dirt.’ What would he do if he knew that’s exactly why I’m there every morning, cleaning his office? I feel like the worst kind of person, especially now that I know he likes me. He hides it well, but I’ve seen the desire in his eyes. I know he was staring at my ass yesterday.

  I want him. I can’t deny that...but I also want a story. Of course, if Adrian had his way, I could have both but I’m not that mercenary, whatever Sebastian thinks about journalists. I wonder if I should just cut my losses and run. I’ll get a job somewhere.

  I sigh and head for the shower, grabbing a towel as I go. I look down at my naked body, wondering what Sebastian would think of it. I’m not skinny like the typical Manhattan girl, but judging by that look in his eyes, he doesn't seem to mind.

  Once again, I find myself thinking of Sebastian as I run my hands over my body, soaping myself, but this time I don’t push the thought away. My body aches, and I can feel the desire ignite down low in my core as my pussy contracts, responding to my fantasy. As if he really is here and it’s really his hands soaping my breasts.

  My nipples harden even under the hot steam, puckering as I imagine his mouth on them. I circle my hands around the fullness of my breasts, cupping them together as I circle my thumbs around my nipples and then lightly run the pad of my finger across one aching tip. I hear myself gasp as longing curls under my skin and my clit throbs, practically begging to be touched. I want him here, holding me, playing with my body in ways that no man ever has before. Teaching me what it feels like to be with a man like him.

  I slide one soapy hand down the soft curve of my belly and cup my mound, feeling the heat of my pussy throbbing against my palm. With my other hand I tease one nipple, stroking it softly one moment and then pinching it the next, wondering how Sebastian would touch me. Whether he would be gentle, or rough. Water cascades down my body as I arch my back under the flow, the feel of the water thrumming against my skin adds to the sensations that are coursing through my nerve endings and igniting my skin.

  I slide my other hands down between my thighs, responding to the ache there, and I can feel how slick my folds are with my juices. I run a fingertip between them, moaning as I reach my clit and it stiffens in response to my touch. I wish my finger were Sebastian’s. Or better yet, I wish it was his tongue. The thought of his mouth on my most intimate place sends a shudder through my whole body and I lean against the tiles of the shower wall, resting my forehead on the enamel. In my fantasy, Seb
astian is here with me, on his knees under the fall of hot water, his hands gripping my thighs as he buries his head between them. I have no real life experience to know what it feels like, but as my hand works my clit, the sensations build in my body and damn, but it feels good.

  I make my movements faster and more frantic as I lose myself deeper in my fantasy, picturing Sebastian looking up at me from where he’s kneeling between my legs, his dark eyes gleaming with desire. I breathe his name, then bite my lip as I whimper with my own pleasure. I continue to knead my breasts with my other hand, and it feels as though there’s a direct line of pleasure going from my pussy to my nipples and back again.

  I want more, so much more, so I leave my breasts and bring my hand down to join the other, circling my opening and then slide a finger inside myself. I’m so wet now I can feel it on my thighs even with the water running down my body. I circle my hips against my hands and add a second finger, gently stretching my virgin pussy as I try to imagine what Sebastian’s cock would feel like pushing inside my body.

  The image sends me over the edge, and I can feel myself approaching a climax as the sensations intensify in my body, causing my insides to contract and release in rapid succession. I moan loudly as I come, my body shivering with wave after wave of pleasure. My body feels like it’s melting, becoming one with the liquid all around me, and finally as it subsides, I lean my hands on the shower wall, panting.

  After a few moments I collect myself and finish my shower, wrapping myself in a towel and reaching for the hairdryer. My limbs feel languid and heavy, and I’m satisfied yet somehow also still craving. Craving him. I lie back on my bed, and wonder what to do with my evening. Some of my friends are meeting at a local wine bar but I don’t have the energy to join them, with these extra-early mornings I could use an early night.

  I somehow just know I will be dreaming about Sebastian. I wonder what he’s doing and who he’s with...and if he, too, is thinking about me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sebastian

  I can’t stop thinking about her.

  On the hour long drive out of New York to visit my sister, Rose is on my mind. Just as she was all last night. In fact, visions of her naked and withering beneath me tormented me until I relieved myself, groaning her name under my breath to an empty room.

  I don’t know what this is, but I don’t care. I want her, every sweet, sexy inch of her.

  It’s always been a rule of mine to never date employees, but she is technically employed by the agency, not me. I’m not breaking any rules or protocols here.

  But then it occurs to me that she might be. What would her agency think if she started dating the CEO of their biggest contract? The last thing I want is to be responsible for her losing her job.

  But I can make sure that doesn’t happen. Money talks, and I have plenty of it.

  I realize that I’m already thinking in terms of dating her, and I smile to myself, surprised at how comfortable I am with the idea. After all, I’m not getting any younger.

  And she looks like the kind of woman I could settle down with...the thought of having her in my bed every night makes my insides tighten and my cock twitch. Waking up next to her naked body every morning...I can’t think of anything better.

  I have the best of everything that money can buy, and now I’m remembering what it is to want again. To be hungry...but not for food.

  Not anymore.

  I never tell anyone, because the press would no doubt try to spin some ridiculous rags to riches story out of it, but I grew up pretty poor, with just my mother and twin sister. Dad died overseas in the Army, and the military pension was just about enough to pay the rent, but nothing more. Life was a far cry to what it is now. It was watching my mom work two jobs to keep us fed and clothed that gave me the work ethic I have today. Before she died five years ago I was able to buy her the house in the country she had always wanted and make sure she never needed to work again. She volunteered in her community though, insisting being a lady of leisure wasn’t for her.

  Now it’s just me and Penny, my twin. I promised Mom I would look after her.

  I pull into the long, tree-lined driveway of Penny’s home, looking forward to seeing her. I couldn’t come last week because she had a cold, and I’ve missed her.

  The maid lets me in and leads me to the dining room and seeing the familiar style of uniform immediately makes me think of Rose. I wonder what Penny would make of her.

  Penny looks pleased to see me, as usual. Her cognitive abilities are deteriorating, but at least she still knows who I am.

  She’s been in a care home since we turned nineteen and her needs were more than Mom could cope with full-time, while I was away at college. I came back having dropped out and started my own million-dollar tech business and found Penny the best care money could buy. She loves it here.

  This is the other secret I keep from the press, and another reason I don’t get too close to people. The last thing I want is reporters turning up here. The place is an idyll for Penny and the other residents, partly due to the money I’ve poured into it, and I want it to stay that way.

  “I think I’ve finally met someone you might like,” I tell her, and even though she doesn’t reply I’m sure I can see a flicker of interest in her eyes. “Hopefully one week I can bring her to meet you. She’s very pretty.”

  Penny smiles.

  “But I have to ask her first,” I confess. “So far, she just cleaned my office. Not the best start, huh?”

  Penny smiles again. I know she has no idea what I’m talking about, but she likes me talking to her, so I continue, telling her all about Rose, and about my day at work, and the awful board meeting I had before leaving. Penny starts to nod off at that point.

  I wish her goodbye, kiss her on the forehead and get up to leave. One of the caretaker's appears behind me and walks me to the door.

  “This Rose sounds like a lucky woman,” she says, and I realize she heard every word of my one-sided conversation.

  “I don’t know about that,” I say with a wry smile. “She doesn’t even know that I like her, yet.”

  “Then tell her,” the middle-aged woman says, shaking her head at me. “If she’s as pretty as you say, someone else will snap her up if you don’t.”

  I bristle just at the thought of any man thinking of her like that and know that I’m not about to let that happen.

  “Not a chance,” I growl.

  “So, you’re going to ask her on a date?”

  “Tomorrow,” I promise. “And then you can hear all about it next week.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,” she laughs as she shuts the door behind me, and I walk back to my car.

  I drive back to my luxury apartment that cost about as much as a small island and look round at the fine surroundings dispassionately. Then it hits me.

  I’m lonely.

  I have everything, according to the newspapers, but I’m lonely, and chasing the next deal or the next tech innovation just isn’t filling that hole anymore.

  But ever since I set eyes on Rose, I think I may have discovered what I need.

  Now I just have to work out how to make her mine without coming on too strong and completely freaking her out. I’m used to getting my own way and subtlety is hardly my strong suit. I want what I want, and I’m used to getting it, and no one stands in my way.

  Except now Rose holds the power in her hands, and she doesn’t even know it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rose

  Sebastian’s office isn’t on my rotation this morning. The usual manager is away and her replacement it seems has no idea of the situation. I need to speak with Adrian. The last thing I need is to waste time... but then, maybe I can get some juicy gossip from the Operations Manager whose office I’m cleaning instead.

  Of course, I don’t actually want to. I like Sebastian too much.

  Which is not good. What kind of journalist will I be if I back out of chasing a story because I fall for my targ
et?

  And is that what I’m doing...falling for him?

  No, you’re crazy, says a reasonable voice in my head. You don’t know him. You’ve only just met him. Get a grip. Get in, get the story, get out.

  The Operations Manager, Mike something, turns out to be nowhere near as clean and organized as Sebastian. I take one step into his office and feel my stomach sink. There are papers everywhere, food in the wastebasket and half-drunk coffee cups on every surface. It’s like a teenage gamers bedroom...and my brother back home is a teenage gamer. Mom doesn’t go into his room unless absolutely necessary.

  I have nothing but admiration for people who do this job full-time, I think as I gingerly start clearing up. There’s a musty, slightly moldy smell that you don’t expect to come across in a state of the art office like this, and I suspect a whole can of my air freshener isn’t going to cut it.

  I take a ruffle through the papers on the manager’s desk, wondering if there is anything juicy to be found, but everything looks above board. There is no financial information or anything which I could get checked out. Although I doubt Adrian would settle for a story on inter-corporation fraud. He wants the dirt on Sebastian and nothing less. Like he said, everyone has secrets.

  I hear footsteps outside, making me jump, and I quickly put the papers down and turn to dust the shelves as a man enters the room. I'm guessing this is the Operations Manager himself, in a slick, tailored suit and gleaming white teeth. The total opposite of his office.

  “Well, hello,” he says, and his eyes traveling over my body in a way that I don’t like at all.

  “Good morning, sir,” I say formally and carry on dusting. He just stands there, continuing to look me up and down blatantly, and it’s making me feel really uncomfortable, especially as he’s standing in between me and the door. I was hoping to get into a conversation with him if possible and see if I could suss out any leads for a story, but now I just want to get the hell out of here. He’s making my skin crawl.