Mia the thief was my maid.
I’d wanted to see her again, hear her tell the truth.
But she wasn’t admitting shit and she was in her underwear and I had a hard-on.
She’d tricked me, ripped me off, humiliated me, and I still wanted to fuck her six ways to Sunday and eat breakfast in bed with her.
This was officially a complete and total fuck-all disaster.
Chapter Six
Mia
I stared at the closed door in complete shock.
“What the hell is happening?” Christina asked.
I had been sleeping in James’ bed and he had caught me, that’s what was happening.
I wasn’t sure what was more shocking—seeing him again after all these months or hearing him accuse me of stealing from him.
“He took my uniform,” I said, dumbly, on my knees on the bed in nothing but my bra and panties. He had slept in this bed. I had slept on the bed where he had slept. It wasn’t a creeper’s bed. It was the man who had shown me the best time I’d had in years, both in clothes and out.
The man who lived in Miami and I’d had to bolt out on because of work.
“That does pose a problem. He’s still in the other room, right? I didn’t hear the front door close. Maybe he’s just messing with you and he’ll give you your uniform right back.” Christina stuck her hands in her pockets and started pacing. “How do you know this guy anyway?”
“I met him at a bar in December and we hooked up.” I ran my fingers through my hair, swallowing hard. “I can’t believe I did this. I can’t believe I got caught.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stall him any longer.” Christina bit her fingernail. “Should I go out there and try to talk him down? Why does he think you stole his ring?”
“I have no idea.” My brain was still foggy from both being ripped out of sleep and the shock of seeing James. An angry James.
My alarm had just gone off when Christina had frantically texted me a guy was coming into the room. I had thought my best bet was to hide under the covers until he left, but in hindsight that was a bad idea. Possibly my worst yet, after taking off my damn uniform and sliding into a guest’s bed in my underwear.
“Oh my God, why am I so screwed?” I moaned, standing up so that I could appropriately pace back and forth dramatically. “How did this even happen?”
“You had sex with a rich guy and didn’t tell me. I’m still stuck on that. Get me up to speed.”
“I ran into him, literally, with my bag, and we hung out and then went to the apartment he was staying at. He’s a luxury boat salesman from Miami.” With a great smile, a generous spirit both financially and sexually, and big… hands. “I woke up, I was late for work, I had to leave without saying anything or leaving my number.”
“You left like a dude?” Christina looked impressed. “Damn. I wish I could do that, just once. But you know me. I sleep with a guy once and I let him move in with me.”
“I know,” I said, dryly. “And I really wish you’d stop doing that. But I’m telling you, Chrissy, I have no idea what he’s talking about. He was wearing some big-ass ring but he took it off at some point. It probably fell behind the nightstand. But I didn’t steal it, you know that.”
“Of course I know that. If either of us were going to steal shit, we wouldn’t be working seventeen jobs and living in a tiny box of an apartment with neighbors who probably cook meth.”
There was a couple next door to us that was highly sketchy. “Exactly. So I’ll just calmly go out there and explain to James that this is all a big mistake. I’ll just be firm and polite and professional.”
“Professional? Girl, you’re in your underwear.”
Fair enough. “Go finish cleaning the room before Cindy wonders where the hell we are. I need a towel.” I went into the bathroom attached to his room and yanked a bath towel down off the shelf and firmly wrapped it around me. James was very tidy. He had his toiletries lined up left to right in what might be the order of use. But there was definitely some kind of pattern to it. No dirty towels on the floor or the countertop.
When I went back into the room, I flipped open the lid of his suitcase sitting on the valet rack. No clothes. When I dropped the lid back down, I saw the suitcase had the signature logo for Gucci. Even I knew that iconic symbol. This suitcase had to set him back a pretty penny. The closet revealed suits and shirts and pants all neatly hung up. Shoes were lined across the floor, and damn, the man had a lot of shoes. Sneakers, dress shoes, hiking boots. Curious now, I opened a dresser drawer and found shorts and T-shirts, folded like a display counter at the mall. Another drawer contained folded underwear and socks. Then finally there was a whole drawer of accessories. Cuff links, a money clip, four ties, a gold chain, and a pocket square.
So basically all I could conclude was he was a psychopath.
No one was that neat on vacation, were they? It wasn’t like I had a ton of experience jetting off for fabulous vacay weekends with friends. Maybe I would be like this too. Then I thought about my room at home. About Mississippi, my bag. And the state of my work locker downstairs and realized I was probably, by definition, a dirty girl.
But that was also in part because I worked all the time. When I wasn’t working, I was visiting my mother at the assisted-living facility, Oak Harbor, or sleeping. I didn’t have time to hang my clothes, let alone fold underwear. Underwear doesn’t need to be folded. It goes on your butt. It’s a service garment that no one sees, for the most part. Throw those undies in a drawer and move on with your life.
The process of invading his privacy made me feel more stabilized. It wasn’t hard to imagine that a guy who unpacked like this would have a hard time processing the fact that he’d lost his ring. Which he obviously had, since I didn’t steal it. He must not be able to comprehend that he had misplaced anything, given the psycho orderliness of his life. I took a deep breath, checked the knot on my towel, and opened the door to confront the man who had given me a year’s worth of orgasms in one night.
Christina was arguing with James. “I can’t do that. I can’t just not clean all these rooms when it’s a five-bedroom suite. If one of the other guests is upset the room isn’t cleaned, it’s on me. I’ll get in trouble.”
James was leaning against the wet bar, a drink in his hand. He was dressed in a sweater and golf pants, both expensive looking. My uniform was over his shoulder. “Does that mean you’re actually in housekeeping?” he asked Christina. “Or is this all a ruse to steal from guests?”
Christina’s cheeks turned red. “If this was a ruse, trust me, I would not be standing here talking to you. Some of us have people counting on us. I can’t lose this job.”
James’ jaw worked. “I will tell whoever needs to be told that I didn’t want the room cleaned. Just leave me alone with Mia.”
“Why, so you can ‘teach her a lesson’?” Christina’s shoulders went up and her fists clenched.
“What?” James looked startled and horrified. “No! Of course not. Jesus. No. I would never physically harm a woman.” He looked nauseated by the thought.