Chapter Eighteen
1240 Words
Chapter Eighteen
“Trent?” Adalia called his name softly to wake him up then let herself into his bedroom.
But it wasn’t dark anymore, and he wasn’t in the bed. Instead, a tanned housekeeper stood over it, pulling the sheets into place.
“Oh my God,” Adalia whispered and tried to back out of the room, covering her bits and pieces, but there were far too many curves to accommodate for.
The housekeeper looked up and shrieked, then clapped her hand to her mouth to shut out the sound. “Lo siento,” she whispered past her fingers.
“That’s all right, don’t worry.” Adalia gripped the phone and used it to cover one n****e, then blocked her privates with her other hand. Her clothes were downstairs and the maid surely didn’t know how to avert her gaze. “Could you hand me a towel from the bathroom?”
The maid didn’t move.
“Or a blanket off the bed? Pillow? Anything? No?”
Adalia crept sideways toward the dresser, shifted it open and rooted around inside it for a shirt.
The housekeeping lady stiffened and frowned, and Adalia shot her a quick look of disdain. Like she would steal from the man she’d slept with. b***h, please.
Adalia brought out a shirt, some baseball team’s logo printed across the front of it, and slipped it over her head. Luckily, Trent was bigger and taller than she was; the bottom covered the tops of her thighs.
The other woman relaxed slightly, now that she was covered up.
“I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” she said, and the maid bobbed her head, though her glare said she hadn’t understood a word. “Where’s Trent?”
“No entiendo Ingles,” the housekeeper said, raising her palms.
Didn’t the woman understand her boss’ name?
“Trent Dawson?” she asked again, searching the room for a picture of him, but there were none. Not even a graduation photo or anything. “He’s the owner of this house? Your boss, Trent.”
The maid gaped at her, mouth flapping open and closed. She bent and picked up a feather duster, then held it out as if it were a shield.
“You really have no English at all?”
“No entiendo Ingles.” The woman blinked and twirled the duster slowly, then shook her head in total miscomprehension. Trying to get through to her would take weeks.
“That’s all right. Thanks, I’ll wait here.” Adalia smiled but the maid shook her head, expression blank. “I will wait,” she said, signaling and then pointing to the floor. “Here.”
The maid fluffed her short cropped curly hair then shuffled toward the door without another word. The bed was made at least, but the housekeeper seemed unwilling to stay a moment longer. Thank God.
She let herself out, murmuring apologies in Spanish. “Lo siento, lo siento,” she said and Adalia finally found the humor in the situation and burst out laughing. The woman jumped and hurried out faster, and she shut the door behind her.
What a morning. As if things could get any more complicated.
Adalia strolled to the bed and sat down on Trent’s side, then placed her phone next to his on the bedside table. The bank situation was disastrous, but it might not be irreconcilable.
She settled onto the duvet cover with a beleaguered sigh, staring directly at the wall of windows that looked out onto the city. Her bakery was out in that mess. Cars sped through the streets, between high rises and low buildings, hooting and letting off exhaust fumes.
There were apartment blocks, malls, and banks, everything a big city needed. Buildings galore and hers was somewhere in the middle of them. Ignored, lost to customers.
Adalia stood and opened the smallest window to the right, letting in a gust of fresh air. She closed her eyes and let it blow away her fear and pain. It didn’t work and the cloying scent of city smog made her eyes water.
She closed it again and backed off, then sat back down on the bed, smoothing the sheets to soothe her mind. The texture was quality personified.
The world flowed forward, ceaseless, and it didn’t matter what she wanted or who she was. Nobody cared about her problems except for her, and that was true of everyone. If she couldn’t deal with it, too bad. There was no one else to deal with it for her.
And that suited her fine on most days. In most years, even, it was just the sore fact that this was out of her control, which hit home.
She didn’t have the money and she couldn’t save her dream without lowering herself and asking for help. Begging for it really.
Where was he?
She bounced around and crossed her knees.
Beep, beep.
The message tone on her phone went off, and she swept it up off the bedside table and scrolled through to her messages. Who could this be? The last thing she needed was DeShawn’s interference.
I can’t wait to see you.
She frowned and rolled her eyes, then glanced at the name on top of the screen. Her heart froze. Michelle Van Heerden stared back at her, and she blinked several times. Michelle couldn’t wait to see her?
This had to be some kind of sick joke.
Adalia exited the message and scanned her inbox, but she didn’t recognize any of the names except for the assistant’s. This wasn’t her phone.
She glanced at the bedside table and gasped. It was Trent’s phone.
Adalia couldn’t help herself.
She opened up another of Michelle’s messages and her heart sank through her chest, through her diaphragm and into her stomach, a lead weight of despair.
I’m going to suck your c**k so hard, you’ll go cross-eyed, baby. Can’t wait to see the look on your face when I walk into the office today.
Adalia thumbed the screen of the smartphone and opened up another.
You look so good in that suit I just wanna rip it right off your hot bod.
And another.
Wanna f**k you so hard. Just get on top and ride you until you can’t take it anymore. Don’t you want that, too? Treat you so good, baby, all night long.
Adalia gripped the phone and breathed through her mouth. This couldn’t be true, he couldn’t have lied to her about this all along.
She slammed the phone back on the bedside table and picked up her own.
She’d been such a fool. He’d tricked her into believing this was true after all her doubts and she’d still gone with it.
Two dreams shattered in the span of a day. She’d never ask for his help now, she’d sooner hit him as look at him, let alone talk to that bastard. Sobs racked her body and her vision blurred with tears.
She’d fallen for the creep. She’d actually allowed him into her heart, in spite of everything.
Adalia rose and looked down at the T-shirt, Trent’s shirt, then ripped it over her head and threw it on the bed.
She was n***d, and she had nothing but her handbag with her. She lifted if off the floor – Trent had fetched it for her the night before, in case she got an important call – and slung it over her bare shoulder.
Then she ripped his bedroom door open and marched out into the hallway.
“Trent!” she yelled at the top of her lungs and the cleaning lady poked her head out of the bathroom nearby, started and disappeared again. “Trent Dawson, where are you?”
Adalia stormed down that spiral staircase, as n***d as she’d been going up it, but with her heart so broken she wasn’t sure if it would beat for much longer.
She hurt so much, she was sure she’d collapse.
But that just wasn’t her style.
- Writer
