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

months. It had been her, all along, and for some reason, it sent a jolt of heat through my veins. Poetic, I thought. But it was highly unlikely that a beautiful young girl like her would want anything to do with a man of my age. Big house and money aside, Britta didn’t strike me as a creature who went looking for a sugar daddy.

Pulling into my garage, I thought of all the questions I’d wished I’d asked Melody about her cousin, but then I was glad I didn’t. No, I wanted to learn about her first-hand, face-to-face, preferably not holding broken glass or while she was working in my house. This whole day had felt off, but for once, I wasn’t overrun with loneliness. Something about chasing Britta had me more excited than ever.

I’d already accepted that she wouldn’t be interested in me. Or she could be a Donny-type and be falsely interested in hopes of getting something from me. Or worse, she could end up feeling like the last handful of women had felt… good at first but then, for some reason, leaving me feeling cold and disconnected. And all of this could lead to a toppling tower of disappointment.

I knew it would be stupid to pursue her, but when I closed my eyes and thought about her intoxicating scent, it was as if I didn’t have a choice.

7

Britta

By the time I got out of the hospital, it was nearing midnight and all I had to show for the time lost was another $1,246.90 added to my debt. Well, that and six stitches. Even though Melody was probably asleep, I’d promised to pop my head in after I got home so, though my legs felt dead after the first flight of stairs, I made my way to the third floor and knocked gently against the dilapidated apartment door.

Donny was almost always awake, or so it seemed, and when I heard footsteps coming to the door, I prepared myself for it to be him.

Melody, dressed in a tank top and pajama shorts, pulled open the door, her dark hair in a tangled heap on one side of her head, eye makeup smeared to her temple.

“Hey, sorry if I’m interrupting anything,” I said coyly, winking, but she immediately yawned and I knew I’d woken her up from the couch, not from a round of sex with Donny.

“There’s nothing to interrupt these days girl,” she yawned again, this time pulling the door in for me to come inside.

“I’m exhausted, Mel, I just wanted to tell you I’m okay. I’m broker now than when I started the day, but I’m okay. Just going to head downstairs and heat up a cup of noodles then go to bed,” and as I said it, I wondered if I could even keep my eyes open long enough to eat the three-minute cup of salt.

“Can you work like that?” she nodded to my hand, yawning again, Donny snoring from inside the apartment.

“Yeah, the hospital gave me these extra bandages and a glove, so I can still work,” I held up the brown paper bag of supplies that the nurse had given me. I didn’t know if she was supposed to give me all that, but I had emotionally dumped on her in a big way. Poor lady was just trying to do her job.

“How’d you manage a gash right in the center of your hand sweetheart? Usually these don’t run in the middle of your palm like that,” the kind nurse said, peering down at my wound while pulling open a sealed medical package of something. I turned my head away, having seen enough blood for the day.

“I broke a glass then I held a broken shard, very tightly, accidentally,” I said, relieving the thrill that rippled through me when I let myself lay eyes on him. I never knew brow-line glasses could be a turn on but I didn’t know poetry, the smell of amber cologne and the sight of a house could turn me on, either, but they did.

The nurse paused, hovering over my hand. “Now, tell me dear, how does one hold a piece of broken glass both tightly and accidentally?”

She returned to my wound with a cold piece of cotton, or so it felt. I still couldn’t look.

I sighed. “Well, I’m a maid. For very wealthy people. And I’ve been working in this house for a couple of months,” I said, kicking off my shoes as she continued to blot away the moisture from my palm. “Wait, how long is this going to take?” I glanced back at her and she titled her head a few times, sizing up my wound.

“Five or six stitches, bandages, I’d say we have at least ten minutes.”

“Okay, so my mom was an alcoholic her whole life. Shitty mom, but she tried, she just, you know, couldn’t get it together. Anyway, liver and kidney failure for a couple years, she passed away three months ago. I was taking care of her on my own. Drained my college savings on everything that insurance didn’t cover. Then once she passed, I was left with her debt. And I mean, you’re a nurse, you know. Dying isn’t cheap.” We both paused for a moment as she gave me an empathetic glance before I continued. “I moved here because my cousin is a maid for this agency that just services fancy schmancy rich people.” I leaned over to her, and added, “I had to sign an NDA about the people’s houses I clean.” Her lips curved down in interest as she nodded for me to continue. “Okay so I was cleaning the office at this one house. You should see this house. It’s so beautiful. Every week when we get past the gate and the house comes into view, I swear I get excited. Tingly. It’s, it’s breathtaking, seriously.”

“I bet,” she added, “little sting here in three, two, one,” she warned before putting the anesthetic in