I felt all too embarrassed to look up. A whistle caught my ears. "Damn that ass." The voice was low but still carried loud and clearly to my ears. I huffed, the tips of my ears burning up as blood rushed to my face in embarrassment. I picked myself up from the floor, my eyes clashing against a guy who's leaning lazily against the black banisters. I felt as if a whoosh of air left my lungs. The guy was so– ugly.

Hah! I wish that was true. Messy, dark brown hair, full– almost pouty lips fitting perfectly to his defined jaw, he was the epitome of attractive. My eyes helplessly trailed down, past his tight v-neck white t-shirt, down to his jeans covered crotch. I mean legs.

"Done checking me out yet sweetheart?" He drawled arrogantly, chuckling. I rearranged my features into a scowl, dusting the imaginary dust off of me. "Since when did Elliot hire a new maid?" He took a couple of steps forward, his eyes scanning me up and down.

"I am not a maid." I hissed, huffing to myself. Reaching down, I tried with one more attempt to carry the suitcase up the stairs.

"Seems like a maid to me." He commented, slowly walking towards the stairs, so casual it was as if he's taking a stroll in the park. "Cheap jeans, frail edges along your top, carrying a guest's suitcase up the stairs, everything a maid would do."

My mouth fell open and I gaped at him. "Excuse me!" How the hell did he notice? "Just because I don't wear fancy designer clothes and act like a spoilt little girl, doesn't mean I am your maid. Who are you, fûcking Regina George? Did you just finish filming your latest video of the Fashion Police?" I rolled my eyes, taking the last couple of steps up to the second floor. I grinned victoriously. Made it! I allowed the suitcase to drop loudly onto the ground.

A pair of shoes appeared in front of my vision. "What are you doing? Please-" I used my hands to push the air to my left, "move."

"You're a feisty one." He crossed his arms. "What's your name?"

I sighed, deciding to not reply, instead, tugging up the handle to the suitcase. Moving around to his left, I was forced to pause mid step as he sidestepped to the left with me. My mouth fell open. I tried the right, he followed suit. "How old are you, five?" I scowled, feeling my annoyance rising.

"Say the magic word and I'll let you through." The corner of his lips quirked up into a haughty smirk.

He is seriously a five year old. "Fûcking open sesame." I cursed, running a hand through my hair.

"No, sweetheart, your name."

I raised my eyebrow. "What?"

"Your name is the magic word." He clicked his finger.

I sighed deeply. "Fine. I'm Chanel. Not nice to meet you. Happy now?" Rolling my eyes, I pushed past him and down the corridor, walking away blindly, with only one goal in mind. To get away from this sexy lunatic.

"If you are searching for the guest rooms then you are walking the wrong way." He called from behind me, using two fingers to direct to the left. I spun on the spot, walking back a couple of steps, and turned down the corridor he was indicating at, all the while he snickered in the background. I held my head high, trying my best to walk in a straight line. This everyday, mundane task seemed slightly impossible right now, as I am so well aware of his gaze on my body, my legs apparently forgot how to walk.

It's not everyday I manage to embarrass myself twice in front of a male. A hot one at that too.

I walked down the wide corridor of doors, finding one that was open ajar. My mother and Elliot stood by the open balcony, their conversation pausing as I walked in. "There you are Chanel. We thought you got lost." My mother shot a smile in my direction.

"I did." I said drily, looking around the luxurious open plan room. I swear. This room is so spacious, it could easily house ten of those sumo wrestlers. I cleared my throat. "Is this– Are we– staying here?" I pointed to the ground below me. I don't want to assume, but I also do not want to carry this suitcase all the back down once more.

"Of course." Elliot chuckled, crows feet crinkling the corner of his eyes. "Feel free to pick any room you want." My mouth dropped open.

"Seriously?" I looked from Elliot to my mum, who gave me a shrug. "Um–uh thank you. So much." I stammered.

"Don't mention it." He waved me off. "My nephew, Noah, is around here somewhere, if you find trouble, he can help." I nodded.

"S-so I just go and–" I pointed out the door, not sure if this offer stands for right this moment. Elliot nodded, and I smiled awkwardly, turned around, and walked back out to the corridor. I suppose he did this just to get me out of the room. I shrugged, deciding to just pick on out at random. I headed to the room that stood last in the corridor. The room was structured the same as the one my mother and Elliot was in, except just a bit smaller. I had no trouble with this, because just being able to stay in this house is an incredible luxury already. There was a large closet and an ensuite that comes with the bedroom. I shook my head, but couldn't shake the large grin that flew onto my face.

Wanting to get settled in right away, I took out the main pieces of clothing that I was going to wear, hanging them up in the closet. Now I'm not going to bullshit and say that all my clothes are conservative or reaches an inch above my knees. Because they don't. I know my figure does not suit those types of clothing, and I do like to have fun with what I wear. They are in no means indecent to wear outside, but they do make my body look better than it actually is, so that's all I worry about. 

"And you still won't admit that you are a maid." A lazy voice drawled from the door way. I scowled. 

Without turning around, I flipped my middle finger at him. There is no need to make sure I wasn't doing this to some other poor persona of the house, because there is only one person who is this annoying. "Fûck off." 

"There's no reason to get so defensive." His voice came closer. "After all, what's wrong with being a maid?" 

I spun around, jabbing my finger against his chest. "There's nothing wrong with being a maid, as long as I am not working under you." 

"Oh really?" He captured my wrist in his large hand. "But I quiet like the sound of that. Having a personal maid," His voice dropped, and he dragged me closer. "helping me with some— personal needs." His eyes glinted. "Especially if she is working underneath me." There was so many innuendos in that sentence, I could not help but think it to be my fault, for having such a dirty mind. "Oh come on Joelle. Don't tell me you don't want to." The corner of his lips quirked up into a small smirk. "No girl's ever complained about it."

I pulled my hand forcibly away from his. "First of all," I said hastily, wiping my hand on my shirt, "It's Chanel. And second— you are beginning to sound more and more like someone who needs reassurance on how big your dîck really is." 

His eyes flared up in a horrible glare. "You won't be saying that when you are lying under me, begging for my big dîck." 

"–to get the hell away from me." I met his glare full on, crossing my arms. A tense silence fell between us. 

"Listen, Janelle, Joelle, whatever your name is–"

"It's Chanel." I cut in, scrunching my face up in annoyance. Did he have a memory loss or something?

"Whatever." He waved me away. "I don't care what you think, are you or are you not going to have sèx with me? I'll even give you a raise." He offered, crossing his arms as well, making his bicep bulge out.

My mouth dropped open. "Are you dumb?" I threw my hands up. "For the last time, I don't work here!" I wanted to oh-so-badly punch his smug face silly. "Plus, why the hell would I want to sleep with some skinny needle dîck?"

If I thought his glare was any venomous before, it was deadly now. "You should re-think what that pretty little mouth just said." He narrowed his eyes. "Give me your hand." I lifted an eyebrow. 

"Why?"

"Just give me your hand." He scowled, snatching my dormant hand from beside me. 

"W-what the hell are you trying to do?" A small pinch of unease settled in my guts. 

His face twisted into a mocking grin. "Why, proving you wrong, princess." 

And with that sentence serving as a warning, my hand came into direct contact onto his jeans. On the area I was previously staring at. On the area that is now slowly coming to life. 

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