Page 14 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

Interesting strategy on his part, unless he had somewhere else to be and planned on leaving me alone in his house.

I’d opted for a more casual and disarming look myself. A charcoal graphic tee, off-white sneakers, and a pair of tastefully torn, loose-fitting jeans. My hair was gathered into an effortless pony, and only four of my piercings were decorated. Nothing flashy. Just a few studs and hoops.

Though, apparently, it was still enough to make his gaze linger.

“Do you want me to come in, or should I just stand here until you’re done ogling?”

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks, turned around, and walked away without a reaction or a response, like the suggestion ofhimoglingmewas too absurd to warrant one.

I followed him into the empty foyer, ignoring the sour taste creeping over my tongue.

“Seven bedrooms, nine baths. Smaller than your parents’ old place, so you shouldn’t have any trouble keeping up. Mom didn’t.”

She also hadn’t done it alone. Rosie had been the head housekeeper and the only live-in member of staff, but she’d led ateam of four and was free to hire as much help as she needed for parties and events.

But I was picking my battles, and this one wasn’t worth fighting for.

“Should I be expecting furniture to arrive anytime soon?” I asked. “Or isExistential Emptiness: A Cry For Helpan aesthetic that you’re intentionally leaning into?”

Also, where was the garlicky tomato smell coming from? Wasn’t it a little early to be making pasta or chili or whatever?

“Tomorrow.” He scrubbed the back of his neck, giving it a roll as we entered the open living area where we’d done the interview. “Just a few necessities. Dining table. Chairs. A couch, I think.”

“What about the rest?” His interior designers must have provided him with a timeline for when everything was set to arrive, and I probably needed to organize myself around it.

“This’ll be the only delivery. I’m not here for very long.”

My brows ticked up. “What, so the house is just going to sit here, all empty?”

“I assume whoever buys it will fill it up somehow.”

I’m sorry.

He was going to flip it?

He’d spent however many years and however many millions building one of the most gorgeous pieces of real estate I’d ever stepped foot in, just so he couldflip it?

Why?

I bit my tongue. “Great. Makes my job easier. Fewer items to dust and polish and whatnot.”

“Speaking of.” He swiped a black binder off the end table and handed it to me. “Your schedule and list of duties.”

I scanned the laminated pages, keeping my expression neutral as I noted the more important bits. Most of the items were in line with what I remembered Rosie doing, some of themwere made up to make my life difficult, and there was a handful of things he’d very conveniently forgotten to include—like, for example, the fact that we were served breakfast in bed every Wednesday and Friday.

But that was okay. I’d be sure to remind him when the timing was right.

“We never made Rosie wear a costume while she worked for us,” I pointed out, flipping back to theRole Expectations, Guidelines, and Compliancepage, where it was explicitly stated that I was to wear the assigned attire during all work hours. No exceptions.

“She had a uniform.”

“That she rarely ever wore,” I reminded him. I’d seen her in that thing less than a handful of times over the fourteen years she’d been with us. “And a uniform is very different than a costume.”

“You humiliated her,” he retorted. “I’m only returning the favor.”

Right. But that wasn’t all of it, was it?

I’d had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing Dominic since we were four. I’d practically grown up with him, which meant that I knew, without question, that humiliating me wasn’t the only intention here.