My spine slammed against the wall. A bad time to realize he’d walked me back, step by step. Cornered me. Invaded my space without actually touching me. That was the thing. Zach never truly pierced my personal bubble. Not with his body, anyway.
Using the flat edge of his knife, he tilted my head to the side, toward the family room. I had a clear line of sight to my step-monsters. The level of precision with which Zachary Sun operated stunned me. He’d started steering me here ten minutes ago, aware of his goal while I’d rambled about souls.
Vera, Reggie, and Tabby stood in a tight circle, bickering with one another like three frenetic hens. So, they hadn’t eavesdropped. Too busy tossing the blame for what had happened between themselves.
“…looked at me like he was going to ask me out.” Tabby threw her hands in the air. Her Dior skirt rode up, revealing a generous stretch of her thighs. “What was I supposed to do?”
“…could swear he smiled at me when I told him the shoe is mine.” Reggie sniffed into a handkerchief, blowing her nose in decibels more suitable for a distressed elephant. “Also, is that my skirt? What made you think you could pull it off, Tabs?”
“Look at them,” Zach instructed, every ounce of him stone-cold. “These are the clowns holding you hostage. You live in an upside-down world, where the dog has the human on a leash.”
“Is your punishment to make me feel like shit?” I slapped the knife away from my face. “Because mission accomplished. Now, can you leave?”
“Not before I hire you to be my help, Help.”
The shock lasted only for one second. Followed by an urge to strangle him with my bare hands. But he didn’t deserve my emotions. So, instead, I offered him my defiance. I tilted my head back against the wall and pulled my lips in an empty smile. “Leave. Before I kill you. I won’t even need a weapon for that. Trust me.”
“You’ll be working for me—under me—at my whim,” he continued, undeterred and unimpressed by my rejection. “You’ll serve, obey, and cater to me. Paying off your debt for trying and utterly failing to steal from me—”
“Listen here, Sir Jerk-a-lot. I didn’t actually steal from you. No proof, no crime. All you have to show for your accusation is a small dent on a glass case. I’m not my stepsisters. You cannot stress me into being your bitch.”
“I never mentioned a dent on a glass case.”
Oops. I never made stupid mistakes like this. Never got so heated I abandoned my wits. Zachary Sun had managed to upend years of strict self-control. Of the practiced calm expected of a world-class fencer. Well, former world-class fencer.
The telltale pulse of regret crept up my neck. “You did five seconds ago.” I doubled down on my lie and lifted a hand to stop his retort, refusing to fall into the hole I’d dug for myself. “Before you say anything, remember—no proof, no crime. I simply got lost in your library. That dent in the glass was already there.”
“The surveillance cameras tell a different story.” He raised his phone with his free hand, wagging it. A clear shot of my face flashed at me.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I’d checked for cameras on the ceilings, but it hadn’t occurred to me to check for hidden ones. Fine. It had. But my desperation got the best of me.
I pulled my shoulders back, feigning confidence. “The surveillance cameras don’t have a mouth. My lawyer, however, will, and I bet she can get pretty creative about what happened there. A powerful man. A cornered woman in a nightgown.” I cocked my head to the side. “You do the math.”
In fact, said lawyer wouldn’t have to make up a single thing. Zachary Sun had trapped me in his office and forced me to stay, dressed only in lingerie. A pesky little thing called false imprisonment. A felony punishable by up to thirty years in prison. I’d looked it up first thing in the morning.
Zach arched a single brow. “You can’t afford a pair of shoes that stay on your feet, and you expect me to be concerned about your legal representation? Last I checked, Google can’t represent you in a court of law.” He stared me down. “Who’s letting their pride stand in their way now, Little Octi?”
And still, I refused to back down. I opened my mouth, a saucy retort ready to launch at him. He stopped me with his knife to the mouth. He used just enough pressure to part my lips. Whatever he saw had his pupils dilating. It lasted half a second before his eyes tapered.
He shook his head, washing away whatever the heck that was. “The deal isn’t an offer. It’s your only choice to survive.”
“You want me to dust your shelves and suck your toes to remind you that you’re better than me? Hard pass. I’m not fulfilling whatever sick fantasies live in that twisted head of yours.”
“I can assure you that the absolute last thing I fantasize about is your touch.”
“Fine.” I backed away from his knife and pushed up my sleeves, feeling uncharacteristically hot all of a sudden. “I’ll fess up.”
“I doubt you’d even recognize honesty if it hit you in the head with a nametag.”
His dig bounced right off my shoulder.
“Say, hypothetically, that I wanted to steal from you. So, what?” I shrugged. “It’s not like I succeeded. Nor is there ample proof. The room remains perfectly intact. At worst, I’ll get some probation time and community service for trespassing. Bring it on.”
With that, I whipped around, ready to bolt, but he snatched my wrist. So much for not fantasizing about touching me, jackass. A sneer hiked across my lips. I pivoted, eager to point that out. But by the time I turned, Zach had already released my hand and stumbled back. Sheer confusion laced with revulsion marred his flawless features. He stared at the hand that had touched me, then at my face, then down at his open palm again. He looked like he was waiting to see if it would burst into flames.
Ouch. How horrid was I to him that he’d almost yelped? Another foreign emotion snuck into my gut. Hurt.
I crossed my arms, digging my short nails into my elbows as much as I could with their abysmal length. “If you find me so disgusting, don’t touch me.”
He straightened his back, loosening his jaw into the same terrifyingly neutral expression. “You will work for me.” The words came out slow as he stitched together his composure, thread by thread.
“I will not.” I shook my head, looking around us. “Why the hell would you want me to, anyway? You think I tried to steal from you. Are you begging for a repeat or something?”
“You need to be put in your place.”
“My place is nowhere near you.”
“Your place is to serve anywhere and anyone who can afford you. I can.”
“I’m not some object you can own.”
“You are a subject I will own,” he countered, eyes dead. “Until I feel I’ve had enough of you. Which, worry not, should be very soon. I’m offering you an extremely short and economical deal. You’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.”
Finally—freaking finally—the thousands of alarm bells that should’ve gone off an hour ago blared in my head. Why, of all people, did he want to hire me? Sure, I challenged him in Go. But so could some 9-dan prodigy at the Ing Cup. Why me?
Why does it matter? You promised Dad you’d get his pendant back. You can lie to everyone but him.
“Fine.” I flicked a tomato chunk off my shirt, aiming for his shoe. Only fair. “If you give me the pendant back, I’ll give you a three-month contract.”
“The pendant is off the table. You’ll never have it.” He checked his watch, shaking his head at the time. “Six-month contract, and I’m your only client. Hours are eight-thirty to six-thirty. Five times a week. Weekend rates are triple the wage.”
Did he want a maid or a roommate? In what universe would I agree to such outrageous hours?
I fought an eye roll. “I have a company to run. I do three to four mansions a day.”
“You’ll do one, and it will be mine.”
“We’ll lose clientele. No, thank you.”
“Why would you lose clientele? You’re not the only cleaner in the company.”
My blank stare said it all.
His face morphed from boredom to revulsion. “You’re a one-woman operation, and you split the profit with your stepmother? Are you a crosswalk? Is your purpose in life to be stepped on?”
Actually, she got a sixty-forty split out of the deal. But I was too embarrassed to tell him.
I tilted my chin up. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“I’m offering a reasonable exchange. She’s offering you forced labor.”
“The fact remains that I can’t work solely for you.”
“You can, and you will, once your stepmother hires more help, which is what she’ll do by the time I’m done with her.”
Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?
Obviously, he had an ulterior motive, but I didn’t know what I could offer that no one else could. Other than Go, we shared nothing in common.
“I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart.” Zach read my mind, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking his emails.
“Then, why are you doing this?”
“Because you deserve to be taught a lesson.”
“And that is?” I regretted the question as soon as it left my lips.
“In this world, there are masters, and there are servants. I’m a master. You’re a servant. Act accordingly, and I will let you go.”
I didn’t buy what he was selling. No one would go through these lengths to prove something to someone they didn’t care about. At the same time, I knew better than to think he wanted to woo me. Zachary Sun gave off strong asexual vibes. I’d seen him several times, eyes clinging to his every move both up close and afar. He’d never so much as glanced at another human appreciatively. His eyes never halted on blush-stained cheeks or generous chests. Men did not interest him, either. He treated humans as stones in his Go game. Speaking of…
“You want to finish the game.” A tiny smirk interrupted my scowl. “That’s why you want me close.”
“You’ve caught me.” Sarcasm dripped from his lips. “Your intelligence knows no bounds.”
I slid past him, waltzed over to the counter, and opened an overhead cabinet. “You think you’ll win.”
He watched as I fished out a cup, filled it to the brim with tap water, and downed the whole thing. “I think the words you are looking for are thank you.”
“I still didn’t say yes to the deal.”
His thick brow tilted up. “Aren’t you going to offer me any water?”
I gave him a slow once-over, allowing myself the liberty to appreciate all the good parts. “Your legs and hands seem to be in perfect health. I trust you can handle the task.”
“I haven’t poured my own water in…” He scowled, trying to recall. “Ever, I believe.”
I set the cup down in the sink, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and clucked my tongue. “There is nothing quite as wasteful as lovely, useless hands.”
His jaw locked, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. It was a rare occasion, so I took that as a win.
“So.” He drew the word out, his free hand flexing, perhaps with the effort not to strangle me. These next six months will be hell for you, buddy. “Do we have a deal?”
I took my sweet time rinsing the cup. The Ahmadi home needed to be cleaned, but somehow, I trusted that Zach would follow through on his promise and wipe away my extraneous responsibilities. The raw pink skin of my hard-labored hands winked at me beneath a steady stream of water. Water I couldn’t afford. Under lights that still needed to be paid for. A mere six months, and my troubles might wash away. Could I do it? Could I sign away my soul to a monster in Armani?
A foot away, Zach’s untarnished hands taunted me. Smooth, long fingers. Absent of calluses, save for a single one beneath his right middle finger. From Go, I deduced. We were moonless nights and perihelion days. Arctic cold and equatorial heat. Old money and no money.
I tore one-fourth of a single paper towel sheet from a holder, wiped my hands as dry as I could with the tiny scrap, and tucked it in half over the crest of the faucet to dry. The only reason we hadn’t switched to a washable towel roll stood in the living room, arguing with her sister over who would make a more suitable bride for the devil before me. We couldn’t afford another clogged sink from Tabby.
A quick glance at Zach told me he’d never been poor enough to reuse paper towels.
Well, if you want me in your life, you better get used to my penny-pinching habits.
I marched to him, determination fortifying each step. But the minute I reached his six-foot personal bubble, he got out of my way. On instinct, it seemed. Like the mere idea of my filthiness rubbing into his goldenness made him want to vomit. He really didn’t like the idea of us touching. I was beginning to take offense.
“You’re asking for some serious overtime and unconventional concessions.” I folded my arms over my chest. “Come back to the negotiation table, and we might just have a deal.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
I shook my head, sighing. “You think too logically. There’s one thing you’re not considering.”
“What is that?”
“Emotions. I have them. And right now, most of them are dedicated to hating your guts. So, you’ll have to meet me halfway.”
He tucked his phone back into his pocket, sliding the knife into its concealed holster. “What is it that you want?”
I wondered if he realized that the picture-perfect veneer he’d worked so hard to erect had begun to crumble before me. Sure, a lot of moving parts made up Zachary Sun, and I didn’t understand 99.99% of them. But I’d figured out one important thing. Something dark and unusual lurked beneath the most eligible bachelor in the Northern Hemisphere. Something terrifying he didn’t want the outside world to see.
“You can keep your crappy traditional wage structure. I want no part of it.” I inched closer, just to push his boundaries, reveling at the way his jaw set at my proximity. “You’ll pay me in the form of legal fees. Cover the six-figure retainer and hourly fee, then pay me minimum wage over the table and fifty bucks per hour under it.” The last thing I wanted was to line Vera’s pockets while enriching my own.
Zach didn’t even flinch at the number. “You don’t want the money to reach your stepmother.”
“Correct. And money is no issue for you.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll hire you the best fucking lawyers in the DMV.”
I swallowed, trying hard to keep the emotions at bay. I knew it sounded too good to be true, and yet, I couldn’t stop myself from hoping. Hope was the cruelest form of punishment. Normally, I knew better than to let it trickle into my system. But I was tired and foolish and, for the first time in my life, a little sorry for myself.
I held his gaze. “You understand that, whatever goes toward that lawyer, I can never pay back, right?”
“I can afford a whole continent of you, Farrow.” Of you, not for you. Just one letter shy of romantic. “And you’ll have representation so ruthless that Mrs. Ballantine will run to the settlement table before you even file the first motion.”
I shook my head, frantic eyes darting in her direction, cursing myself for forgetting our proximity. “She can’t know I lawyered up.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
I pressed my lips together, staring hard at his throat. At the long, elegant column. Masculine and thick. I’d never uttered these next words to anyone before. But I needed to. He was my only shot at this. What a cruel twist of fate. My salvation had come from the devil.
“There’s a second clause to our agreement.” I tucked my upper lip in my mouth, biting down, toying with the words I feared would sound crazy. “I need you to hire a private investigator to look into the will. Dad would never keep me out of it. He just wouldn’t.”
“Consider it done.”
He didn’t question why I’d fight for a cleaning business, like the lawyers had during the free consults. Didn’t advise me to abandon Dad’s legacy. Didn’t judge me for mourning the future I’d lost. The one where I retired from fencing with an Olympic gold, and Dad and I ran Maid in Maryland together. Just the two of us.
In fact, his face never wavered from its default blank canvas. No judgment, no disbelief, no condescension. Just boredom and a dash of impatience for whatever meeting had him glancing at his watch every now and then. I appreciated the simplicity of his selfishness. Zachary Sun cared about himself and only himself. Anything outside of that purview didn’t deserve his concern.
Zach casted a warning look. “No more asks.” He produced his phone, did a few swipes, and handed it to me. “You should not be rewarded for your appalling behavior.”
I peered down at the screen, noting the name of an AI app he’d just acquired by force. It transcribed conversations and converted them into contracts in real time, discarding all the useless back and forth in between. We operated on different levels, him and I. The sooner I accepted that, the less miserable the next six months would be.
I scribbled my chicken-scratch signature on the screen and licked my lips, half exhilarated, half shocked at what just happened. I’d thought he’d intended to pull me into his lap and give me a good spanking. Instead, I escaped with a new job far cushier than my current one and the opportunity to finally run away from a horrible fate.
He retrieved his phone from me, careful not to make physical contact.
I squinted. “You can’t possibly be doing this as a slap on the wrist or to beat me at Go.” But I wasn’t so sure. Rich people spent their money in crazy ways. That’s why the rest of us wanted to eat them. “What else do you have to gain from this?”
“I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.” His frosty tone warned me to toss his phone down the garbage disposal and escape while I could. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some words to exchange with your… mother.”
He stalked toward the living room, not sparing me a glance on his way out of the kitchen.
“Hey, Zach?”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yes, Little Octopus?”
Was the stupid, absurd nickname actually growing on me? It wasn’t sexy at all, but I kind of liked the meaning.
I grinned. “I figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“How to get out of the pickle I got into during our game.”
My words were met with silence. I thought I saw his broad shoulders shaking, just a bit, in—dare I say—laughter.
“Monday. Eight-thirty.” He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “Don’t be late.”
“Sure. Try not to stab anyone when you lose your pants this time.”
