Chapter 7 - Give Me Reason To Kill You
Lacey's POV:
“Mr. Markle, why should I come to the main house? It’s late and for sure any work can wait until tomorrow morning. And my work officially starts tomorrow. Get some rest, sir.” I would kill you right now. Brent was right. It’s a full moon. Bad omen for you, kid. And I’m not a werewolf, but it still can get bloody.
He chuckles. “It’s tomorrow, Miss Holtrey. After midnight it’s the new date, so you’re officially my assistant. I’m waiting for your presence inside in the next three minutes.” And he ends the call after he has spoken in a husky and playful voice to my brain explosion! I’m jaw dropped with orbits out at the fucking phone.
“UNBELIEVABLE! IT’S TOMORROW?! YOU BASTARD! SHIT! MAN! I’LL KILL HIM! This isn’t going to work. No. He’s unreasonable! What could he possibly ask from his assistant at this hour?! What?! JESUS! I NEEDED TO AVOID SHIT AND SHIT STROKE ME IN FULL HIT!” I’m regulating my breath to calm down and see what he wants from me. But I’ve got the feeling the full moon is for him tonight. Yeah.
I get down the car all furious, with my phone in my left hand, and slam the door. With angry steps and an inflamed grimace, I inch to the main house, cursing him under my lips on silent. He’s already inside as the limo has sped away.
You fucking brat with your money! If only I wasn’t in this shitty situation! Who would have agreed to your insane proposal?! NOT ME! Damn!
I walk in and look around, with a murderous stare and face for sure, flaming under my nostrils, having my heart rumbling like on an arena for gladiators, and my brain is a pulsating pain, with the veins on my neck clenching, and my stomach is beyond frustrated! He’s at the bar in the living room.
The entire house is a piece of art, but I don’t give a fuck. He’s standing, pouring some whisky in a glass with his back at me. I’m evaluating his frame to know where to hit first if it will come to that. I’m on bad things right now.
“Are you drunk, Miss Holtrey?” He’s still with his back at me, gulping from his whisky, opening his suit jacket. He’s in his husky voice, but serious.
I have a werewolf on the rabbit stare at him right now, contracting my jawline, ready to fuck the kid. WHAT?!
“Sir? You’re drinking whisky and asking me if I’m drunk?” Give me reason to kill you. I can’t wait on that. Come on. You son of a bitch…. Drunk, huh?
“Well, I don’t get drunk, Miss Holtrey, but you could.” He’s turning around with his left hand shoved in his pocket, straight in stance like a fucking lion, narrowing his green on heats stare at me, with the blossom of a smirk on his lips, sipping from his whisky.
I could, huh? I can’t stand you from day one. Oh yeah. I’m with same werewolf on the rabbit stare at him, chewing from my inner cheek, with an Alpha stance at him, chin up and waiting for the reason I was called. We’re again in a battle of stares.
“I don’t get drunk, Mr. Markle. Now. Reason for my presence here? You know, what couldn’t wait until a normal morning hour. Like in a couple of hours later.” He’s studying my eyes, I’m confronting him, and he then wanders his eyes on me, in a scanning manner, slow motion one.
I’ll massacre you, kid. Don’t believe it. Try it. I so hate the guy.
“Well? I’m waiting, sir. If you changed your mind, I’ll go, and we shall speak tomorrow.” I turn around to go as I can feel I won’t be able to control myself and I might do something that I’ll regret later. Unbelievable! SON OF A BITCH! I’m almost walking out of the living room.
“Miss Holtrey?” I stop walking with a prolonged sigh, closing my eyes. I don’t turn around.
“Yes.”
“I’m hungry and I want homemade food. I’m sure you know how to cook, right?”
WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?! DON’T YOU HAVE A FUCKING CHEF OR SOMETHING?! THAT’S NOT IN MY JOB DESCRIPTION! I’m all tensed but controlling.
“No, I don’t know how to cook, sir. Anything else?” The fuck I’ll cook for you! Call your other people hired for that!
“You don’t?” I can feel he’s either smiling or smirking. Kurt must have told him I stopped to buy food ingredients. That asshole!
I continue lying with all my sincerity, without turning around as I don’t want to see him and go with the full moon predictions.
“No, sir. Anything else?” I’m breathing in irritation, waiting for the cue to go to my place and sleep undisturbed for a few hours. I hear the glass being placed on the bar.
“Well, then you have five minutes to learn and cook something for me, Miss Holtrey. I’m hungry.” WHAT?! YOU CAN’T LEARN HOW TO COOK IN FIVE MINUTES, KID! He’s hungry, yet the only stomach howling in the room is mine! I’m boiling….
He’s walking towards me as I hear at my back. “Let’s go, Miss Holtrey. The boss needs food. He, he, he….” He is walking past me, undressing his suit jacket in a hot manner, to anger me some more. I’m cursing him under my lips, eyeing him with such hunger that no piece would remain out of him!
“Sir? Cooking isn’t under my job description.” Send me to sleep!
“It is, Miss Holtrey. Under the ‘whatever else needed’ tag. It’s included. I want homemade food, made by your hands. I’m certain it will taste heavenly….” He’s inching to the kitchen probably, with his suit jacket in his left hand, taking off his tie.
I HATE YOU, KID! I WOULD STRANGLE YOU IN PAINS! UGH!
“FINE!” I’m following him with my hands balled, all the way to the kitchen.
UNBELIEVABLE! UNBELIEVABLE! Think of dad, Lace…. It’s only cooking. You can cook something in few minutes, put it under his nose and then shoo yourself away. FINE! FINE! FINE! SHIT! God? Can I poison his food? Huh? No? Fine….