Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Kyle's P.O.V

She has the brightest violet eyes I have ever seen.

Always filled with wonder, hope and determination.

Even though for the first few days she worked for me, I'd stared into those eyes and made my demands, I never knew that someday...I'll miss seeing them.

Two weeks.

She has worked for me for two weeks now,...And yet ever since she had threatened to burn me with so much anguish in those eyes, I never saw her again.

Never saw her violet eyes.

"Shit." I mutter and increase the pace on the treadmill, focusing on the loud music of my earphones and letting my memory go back.

The day of her interview she had worn that knee-length flower dress, with the violet flower prints, bringing out her eyes.

The first thing I'd noticed about her was her uncertainty. She was determined but unsure, hopeful but doubtful. The way she hesitated before answering, yet the way she was quick to act when I spilled cream over the rug.

And I did what I do best,...took advantage of that...of her.

The contract was the first tool I'd used to pull and prison her here, and practically the only tool.

Yes. I'd drafted it up myself, intending to use it against whoever applied...but I had no idea someone would apply, considering the reputation I had in the office.

And I was sure I wouldn't need the contract, but then.....

'I don't want this job, I need it.'

'Does this mean I have the job?'

'Thank you so much.'

'Yes, Mr. Robinson.'

'Yes, I dropped out of college.'

'I'm sorry.'

'You had me parading that room like a slut.'

'Please, Mr. Robinson.'

'But my brother is lying unconscious in a hospital!'

'I beg you!'

'I'll do anything!"

But then I never expected her to work for me. She was so innocent, but did it matter?

Innocence had never been a ticket to get special treatment, it never was back then and so it shouldn't be now.

Besides, she came through Josh, so she knew what she was getting into.

Then the first day, when she'd set a table for two because she thought she could eat at the table.

Like that could ever happen.

No one had eaten at my table since....

Since my foster home, or homes rather. Before then, I always ate alone.

Always alone.

"Fuck."

I abandon the treadmill and head for the push-up setup, needing to divert my focus from the past.

Then I had her stay behind for her first weekend here. She couldn't leave and no way was I going to let her leave just the day after she came.

So I'd grabbed the first thing I could use to keep her.

'But I don't work on weekends.'

She had said, looking forlorn and surprised.

It's not like I needed the suit.

It's not like I was meant to go anywhere.

I just couldn't let her leave, and I don't know why.

Then, Kelsey had spent the night, and Anne's secrets had been spilled one after the other.

She had dropped out of college.

She was the stripper with the mask.

Both, I found completely hard to believe. Her being a college drop out wasn't something I was second-guessing until I read the notes she'd written down concerning the deal wit Terry Turcker.

They were so precise, informative, and organised.

"So she can write a few fucking good notes, so what?" I mutter as I take off my t-shirt and head straight for the pool.

Approaching the pool, I take a quick glance through the glass and into the house. Still no sign of her.

Sighing, I take off my shirt and shoes, along with my earphones and jump into the pool, letting the deafening water block all sounds as my memory dives back to get second secret.

'I don't know, Mr. Robinson. The club really took a plummet the minute Jensen quit.'

Fred had said, clueless of the secret he had just revealed while Anne looked like she would drop dead.

And all I could think of was how she had been determined not to take off the mask without a fight.

And then I did it again.

Took advantage of her.

'You don't have a nerve of decency or conscience, do you?' She had demanded and I could hear the quiver in her voice.

But it shouldn't fucking matter if she felt used or not, she works for me.

'GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!'

When I say jump, she should say how high. It's my bloody house.

'YOU WILL NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN, YOU PERVERT!'

"So why the hell do I feel so goddamn guilty?!" I yell in frustration after I complete my third lap.

I climb out of the water now, knowing I still can't get her out of my head.

Can't get the look of rage and hurt in her eyes out of my head.

For God's sake, she is not the first person I've treated badly, everyone looks at me like I'm the big bad wolf at the office but I still do what I want for the company and they still do what they're being paid to do.

No matter how many disgusting stares I get, it doesn't fucking affect me.

This is how I live.

How I run my life.

It's the only way I've ever known living to be.

Law of nature, survival instincts, food chain. Someone at the top, someone at the bottom.

So why should my maid make me second-guess my actions?

By the time I walk into the kitchen, I spot a covered meal with the table set for one.

"Goddammit Anne." I mutter as I walk over and open it. It's a complete meal of turkey salad, and it's still warm.

She hasn't been gone for long.

Somehow during my workout, she'd come back, made lunch and left, like she has been doing two weeks now.

And i had the volume of my earphones cranked up so loud, I didn't hear a thing.

I don't even know why I want to see her.

It just feels so different walking into the house and not seeing her at the stove with her black apron and hair in a bun.

Is she okay?

Is her brother okay?

When will he be discharged?

Will she be around by then or will she be in her apartment?

But most of all,...Does it matter?

*****

Marcy's P.O.V

"I had him store everything in your laptop, so you won't have to bother yourself with lectures that you've missed, okay?"

I say as I run my hand over Tyler's hair, just above the bandage wrapped round his head.

He is still unconscious, has been for the past two weeks but I always make sure to fill him in on everything happening.

Maybe it's because I don't want to be those people come here and soak the sheets with tears till they leave.

Or because I haven't accepted that sooner or later, I'll be one of those people.

But I know Ty will be fine, the doctors said so. Plus when dad used to be unconscious and under some strong antibiotics, Ty would always talk to him as if he were fully conscious and aware.

He is aware, Marcy.

Just because he is unconscious doesn't mean he is dead.

You gotta stop crying.

He always had so much hope when I was losing mine. And now, more than anything I want to be here for him, to reflect that hope and strength he always had.

"I put some money in your account and--Oh! I bought your favourite cake mix, you know, in case you want to take advantage of having whatever you want for dinner."

I smoothen the sheets covering him and carefully run my hands over the bandages on his arm and midsection.

"I've visited dad twice without you and I must say, Ty, he is becoming a bigger handful in your absence. He keeps asking where you are and if you brought the fruitcake he always enjoys. I'm running out of lies, Ty."

I say as my smile fades and I stare at his peaceful expression.

"I kind of need you more everyday. I mean, I know I usually handle this on my own but....you're the one that hugs me after a long day and leaves me waking up texts. You're the one I look forward to meeting, you're the one that makes me laugh, you're always there when I need encouragement and that's all the strength I need. Please Ty--"

My strength dissolves and I become those people. I drop my head on his bed and let the tears come.

Then I hear the footsteps at the door and look up.

The black suit and spotless shoes are unmistakable...because I polished those shoes spotless this morning.

Mr. Robinson is standing there, both hands in his pocket with his cold gaze on me and his neatly combed hair. Considering today is a Sunday, I'd never thought he would still stick to his usual suit getup.

I wipe my tears as I get up and walk over to him at the door.

How did he even get in here?

It's family only.

"Mr. Robinson. With all due respect, what are you doing here?"

"Anne--"

"I read the contract and I know you eat anything turkey, so it can't be because of lunch. Is it dinner?"

"Well,...um.."

Um? Did he just hesitate?

As if he realises just as well, he clears his throat and tries again,

"I wanted to see why you're barely at the house."

His statement stirrs something ugly in me and I glare at him.

"Why I'm barely at the house? I'm sorry, did you so easily forget when I was crying and begging you because my brother had an accident?"

"No, I--"

"Oh wait. Of course you don't remember. Because you had no interest in that and you wanted me to 'get straight to the point.'"

He just stares at me with his blue eyes clueless and a slight frown.

"That doesn't ring a bell?"

"I didn't say--"

"Well, how about when you had me stark naked and crying in your bedroom? Because I'm still dirty and a stripper."

"Okay! I get it, you're angry. I just want to show I regret my actions."

He says and I watch as he takes his cheque book from his suit jacket.

"Should I just increase your pay permanently or--"

"I don't believe this." I say as I glare at him, hating the way he could always successfully pick on me and get on my nerves.

"What?" He äsks.

"You just love insulting me, don't you? Why do you derive joy in belittling me? What could you possibly hope to gain?" I say and he stares at me with a blank expression.

"Anne, I--"

"You show up here at the hospital where my brother is unconscious, you question my movements like your trying to remind me that I should be at your beck and call which I can never forget. Then you have the nerve to ask to increase my pay? I don't want your money. You've used it to ridicule me enough, you've insulted me, humiliated me, embarassed me, and then you just want to hurt me more by coming here and--"

My tears won't let me complete my sentence and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting to gain composure as the tears roll down my face.

"I just want to express my sympathy." He says and I glare at him.

"Can you please. Just. Leave." I say and he blinks in surprise. He probably expected me to drop at his feet and worship him.

"This is just one of your tricks, and I know it. And when I get to the house today, you'll have me literally kissing your feet for this. So just leave, Mr. Robinson. This isn't your house, and it's not your brother or sister lying down unconscious in here. And I have every right to ask you to leave so go. Before I scream." I say and he just pockets his cheque book back and leaves.

I don't want to dwell on what happened and I go back to Tyler's bed side.

Somehow, Mr Robinson has succeeded in making me feel even worse and I bury my face next to Ty on the bed.

"You won't believe the things I have to go through, Ty. Dad still calls me Mia sometimes. My boss, Mr. Robinson, has the worst...everything. Worst timing, worst thinking. I'm pretty sure his moral instincts are on backwards." I say, listening to his steady breathing.

"And I need you to deal with all these Ty. Please. I know I must sound selfish, but I also want you to get better. I miss you and I love you. You know I love you, right? You know how much I love you, don't you?" I cry by his side, overwhelmed with tears.

"Too the moon and back." Comes his weak response and my head snaps up.

"Ty?"

He is blinking rapidly, squinting against the light but he is well awake.

"Hey, sleepy head." He says slowly, almost a murmur and I throw myself on him.

"Oh, my God! You're awake." I say and he grunts when I squeeze him.

"Oh, sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry." I'm saying repeatedly and he just laughs a little.

"I'm sorry I put you in this position, Marcy. I know you had a lot--" he stops mid-sentence and turns to the door.

"Who's that?" He says and I turn to. Mr Robinson is standing there in the same position that he was 5 minutes ago.

It's almost like he never left.