Maid For Daddies.

Chapter 7

Billie.

The shower scalded just enough to feel real. Hot water sluicing away the sweat and the phantom grip of ropes that weren’t there anymore. I stood under the spray trying to rinse out the disbelief that they’d actually let me walk away breathing.

Towel-dried, I found a simple cotton pale gray nightdress in the closet. It slipped over my skin. The bed was massive, sheets crisp and cool. I crawled in and stared at the ceiling until exhaustion dragged me under.

I dreamt of nothing.

I was woken up to birds chirping.

“f**k,” I hissed under my breath, bolting upright. My heart already racing.

Quick wash, then put on the dark navy dress, white apron, long skirt with subtle fringes at the hem. My decent uniform. I twisted my hair into a tight bun, pinned it secure, and slipped on the low black flats.

I entered the kitchen shortly.

Law stood at the open fridge, broad back to me, pulling out some fruits.

I froze mid-step, instinct screaming to back out quietly.

“You’ll use the card for groceries,” he said without turning.

He closed the fridge, turned, and pulled a platinum card from his pocket. The same one Brian had gambled away in one drunken night, which had ended up in my purse somehow and started this whole nightmare.

He held it out. He wasn't wearing glasses, looking less guarded.

I stared at the card, then at him.

“Hey,” he said, voice flat. “I don’t have all day.”

I forced my legs to move.

Our fingers brushed as I took it. I felt the damn spark.

He smelled so good as he walked past me toward the hallway.

I turned, clutching the card.

“Sir… where did you get this card?”

He paused at the doorway, glanced back over his shoulder.

“You tell me.”

Then he was gone, footsteps fading down the corridor.

~~~~~~~

“Bleh, bleh… You tell me. Argh! If you didn’t want to say, then stay silent. So annoying.”I muttered the words under my breath, shoving open one of the room doors.

The hinges creaked in protest. Yeah, I stole from them and ran. But did that give Law the right to be a cryptic asshole? No. It didn’t.

I yanked the sheets off the bed in a huff, balled them up, and turned toward the laundry basket.

And froze.

Silas stood there, towel knotted low around his hips, water still dripping from his dark hair down the ridges of his chest. Tattoos snaked across his skin of black lines, coiled serpents and jagged symbols I didn’t want to stare at long enough to decode. Every muscle looked perfectly carved.

I swallowed air.

He tilted his head slowly, a droplet slid from his collarbone down his abs and disappeared under the towel.

“Enjoying the view, little thief?” His voice was low, rough from sleep, smoke or both. “Or did you come to steal something else this morning?”

I clutched the sheets tighter.

“I—I asked!” I blurted. “I knocked, but you didn’t hear, and the door was open a crack, so I just—”

He stepped closer.

“The shower was off ten minutes ago,” he said, almost amused. “But nice try.”

My mouth went dry. He was close enough now I could see the faint scar cutting through one eyebrow, the way his eyes flicked down my uniform lingering on the apron strings, the hem of the skirt like he was measuring how fast I could run.

“You always barge in on men half-naked,” he murmured, “or is this a special service you’re offering the house now?”

The words landed in me. Suggestive enough to make my body react.

“Only when they look like they could use the help drying off.”

My mouth ran before my brain could catch up.

His brows lifted for a fraction. The corner of his mouth twitched, like he’d just been handed a challenge he hadn’t expected.

I wanted the floor to swallow me.

“Oh shoot,” I whispered to myself, horrified.

I snatched the laundry basket off the floor, spun on my heel, and bolted. My flats slapped against the hallway tiles as I fled toward the stairs.

Behind me, I swear I heard a low, rough chuckle.

I didn’t stop until I reached the laundry room and leaned against the door for a full minute, breathing hard. Damn my stupid mouth.

I shoved the sheets into the washer, dumped in detergent, slammed the lid, and hit start. The machine hummed to life. I retreated to the kitchen before I could overthink it any further.

I scrubbed the dishes methodically trying to lose myself in the rhythm. Then the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

My body locked. I didn’t hear footsteps but I felt him.

I turned slowly.

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed in a white shirt, sleeves rolled, eyes steady on me.

“If you’re going grocery shopping,” he said, voice low and even, “be back before four.”

I wiped my hands on the apron.

“Why four? What's the curfew for?”

“The estate has rules. You’re not a guest here, Billie. You’re a debtor. Someone who owes us a very big debt. Rules apply differently to people like you. ”

My mouth opened, I wanted to ask who enforced it, but his presence pressed in like a physical weight. Those eyes didn’t waver. Asking anything else felt like poking a sleeping tiger with a stick.

I swallowed the question. Let it die in my throat.

He tilted his head slightly, reading me. “Something on your mind?”

I hesitated.

“Is… is there anything you need? From the store, I mean. Or… anything?”

His mouth curved, just the barest hint of something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You wouldn’t meet my needs, little thief.”

“Yeah? Maybe you just haven’t asked nicely enough yet.”I muttered under my breath, completely unaware that Leon hadn't fully left.

He reappeared in the doorway and stepped inside, closing the distance in three measured strides until he was right in front of me. I had to tip my head back to meet his eyes.

“Careful,”

My bravado evaporated. I tried to swallow and failed.

He leaned in fractionally, eyes flicked down to my lips for half a second, then back up, pinning me.

“You think teasing fixes anything?” he murmured. “It doesn’t. It just makes the lesson hurt more when it comes.”

I couldn’t move or look away. My heart slammed so hard I was sure he could hear it.

He straightened slowly, giving me space.

“Um… Leon?” I hated how small I sounded. “I… um don’t have a car. Could you… maybe give me a lift to the grocery store? Please?”

The question felt ridiculous the moment it left my mouth.

“A lift.” He repeated the word.

I nodded fast. My fingers twisted in the apron fabric. “It’s just… I don’t know the area, and the card’s for groceries, and curfew’s at four, and I don't want to end up lost and late—”

He took one step forward.

I flinched back instinctively, hip bumping the counter.

“You think I’m your chauffeur now?” His voice stayed low. “That after you stole from us, ran, got caught, and begged to keep your fingers… I’m going to play nice and ferry you around like some errand boy?”

“No…that's not what I mean. Like… how to go around… ride.”I stuttered.

He tilted his head, studying me.

“There’s a black BMW in the garage. Keys are on the hook by the door. Use it.” He paused. “But remember, every mile you drive is on our dime. Every turn you make is tracked. Every second you’re out there, we know exactly where you are.”

His gaze dropped to my trembling hands, then back to my face.

“And if you’re even one minute late for curfew…” He let the sentence trail.

“ I won't be late.” I replied.

He nodded and left, before releasing a breath I had to make sure he wasn't nearby.

~~~~~~~~

I loaded the last bags into the back of the black BMW. Groceries neatly stacked, list crossed off, everything on time. The dashboard clock showed 3:30 p.m. when I slid behind the wheel. Thirty minutes to spare.

I could make it back to the estate with breathing room, maybe even slip upstairs before anyone noticed.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I caught sight of a young couple on the sidewalk. Their hands linked as they laughed at something. The girl leaned her head on his shoulder; he kissed the top of her hair. My heart ached.

That used to be me and Brian years ago, before he sold me out. Now he was just a bad memory I tried not to poke at.

I shook it off, turned the wheel, and drove.

Two blocks later, the engine stuttered then died.

I coasted to the shoulder, heart already climbing my throat. I restarted multiple times, I popped the hood but it was useless. I didn’t know s**t about cars. The wires looked fine, no smoke. The gas was half-full and the tyres were functional. Nothing screamed broken.

A silver sedan pulled up behind me. The driver's door opened. A tall guy with brown hair stepped out in casual jeans, gray hoodie, friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey there, miss. Anything the matter?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound calm. “It just… stopped. Won’t restart. Battery maybe? But everything looks normal.”

He nodded, walked around to the hood, poked at a few things. The battery terminals, hoses, whatever men do when they pretend to diagnose cars. His silver wrist watch showed it was 3.35pm.

“Looks okay,” he said after a minute. Checked the tires, glanced at my dash, and came back. “Try restarting.”

I turned the key severally. On the fourth try, the engine coughed, caught and roared to life.

Relief flooded me.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, voice wobbly.

He slammed the hood shut. “You’re welcome.”

“Where are you headed?” I asked, mostly to be polite, to fill the awkward silence.

“To get my watch fixed.” He lifted his wrist. “It’s running twenty minutes behind.”

Wait a minute!

I glanced at the dash clock.

4:05 p.m.

Oh, crap!

I said a brief thank you and drove out of there.

I arrived at the estate, heart racing and praying I was the only one home. The garage doors slid open to Law's matte-black R8, Silas’s midnight Bugatti and Leon’s gunmetal Range Rover. They were home.

My stomach plummeted to my feet.I killed the engine and sat there gripping the wheel. I thought about running. Just leaving the car, the bags and everyt

hing.

But where? With what? They had tracked me to Vegas once. They’d find me again.

And I'd end up like that skull in Lilith.

I swallowed hard. Grabbed two bags and stepped out.