His Young Maid: A Forbidden Boss Age Gap Romance Daisy Jane (love letters to the dead TXT) 📖

door we came to, which was directly above Britta's. He popped his head in and shouted "Mel!" to which a female voice bounced back, irritated and sharp, immediately.

"If you want to talk to me Donny, come inside but do not fucking shout at me from the door!" the voice shouted back, and the irony was not lost on me.

He turned to face me, giving me an indifferent shrug, then dropped the cigarette to the concrete, stepping on it.

"Hold up," he said, wandering into the apartment, leaving the door open. Glancing inside, I saw him wrap his hands around the waist of a girl with dark hair, her hands against his chest, shoving him away. She looked at me over Donny's shoulder and instantly, I recognized her. The girl with the little silver car. Shoving Donny off her, she made her way to the door, her eyes narrowed on me. I was learning that everyone that worked for me possibly found me to be sketchy and creepy. Interesting.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone clipped, annoyed.

"I'm looking for Britta. Donny here has told me that she's getting stitches and it's my fault that she's hurt her hand. I startled her while she was cleaning my home. I'd just like to know what hospital she's at so I can take care of the cost," I said, watching her process me carefully. I didn't know if she distrusted me, I'd never really even met her, but she clearly wasn't happy that I was trying to find Britta.

"You shouldn't know where she lives, you know?" she said, leaning against the doorframe. "It's not really fair. We gotta sign NDA's for all you guys but then you can just show up, know our names and how we live and track us down. Doesn't seem right."

"You know where I live," I said to her, unsure of what her real point was. I could see in her eyes she was concerned, though I don't think it had anything to do with me knowing where she lived. “Like I said, I feel bad about the incident at work, and just want to cover the cost.”

"Listen, dude, I don't even know what your name is or what your whole deal is but—Britta is twenty years old and she's already been through a shit load of stuff and I know how guys like you operate."

"Maybe he likes her, Mel," Donny called from behind, sticking the partially smoked cigarette back behind his ear. Ah, we were in this together now apparently. "He gave me twenty bucks to tell him what hospital she's at. Seems like he really likes her." Twenty bucks meant to them that I liked her. I sighed.

The girl flipped around, a vein bulging from her neck. "What! I fucking work for this guy, Donny! You want me to lose my job? Lord knows you certainly aren't gonna pay the bills! Or your own debt!" she looked back at me with an anger so intense I felt my head jerk back from her stare, then she redirected her wrath back to Donny. “And twenty bucks is nothing to guys like this. Trust me.” She turned to face me and, as much as I knew it pained her, she apologized to me. She wasn’t sorry, but she wanted her job and she thought she was protecting her cousin. I understand all that.

“Look, I’m sorry if I was too direct with you. And, Donny,” she shouted over her shoulder, the greasy-haired guy standing up to her call. “Give him his money back,” she bossed, chin raised.

“No,” I said, “it’s fine. And you’re right. I probably shouldn’t have come here. I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” I said, not even knowing if it was the truth or not. I did want to make sure she was okay but what did I think was going to happen? She’d be on her stoop, waiting for my old ass to come and rescue her? She had an apartment. A life. She had said she needed to keep the job. All I was doing was muddling the waters for her. Her cousin was right.

“Listen, I do want to pay the hospital bill. That was my fault. Will you at least give her this and have her call me?” I pulled my wallet out and handed her a business card.

She looked down at the card for a few seconds then looked back up at me.

“Investor huh,” she tilted her head and looked me up and down.

“Not what you were expecting?” I asked. “What’s your name?”

“Melody,” she said, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe, her eyes still focused on me, tightening in. Of the few impressions I’d already given her, I could see she wasn’t impressed. And if this was Britta’s cousin, it stood to reason that I should probably get her on my good side.

“Not what you expected?” I asked again.

Leaning in, clearly not wanting Donny to be part of the conversation anymore, she whispered, “we thought maybe you were a writer.”

“What made you think that?” I asked, fully aware that Britta had read at least one thing I’d written. She ran away so quickly I didn’t get to talk to her about it. Why was she repeating it? I’d written that months ago and I didn’t even know I kept it. I didn’t know where she saw it but somehow, she made it sound eloquent and I wondered what it meant, to her.

“You seem smart Brooks. I’m sure you can figure it out,” her tone was cool, nearly clipped, as if I’d worn out my welcome and she wanted me to go. I took the hint and thanked her for her help and again, asked her to pass my card to Britta. Though with her skepticism of me, I wondered if Britta would ever even know I came by.

As I drove back to my house, I thought about that scent that had driven me crazy for the last three