"You owe me your life," he said. "A simple thank you wouldn't kill you. You could've died last night if I weren't there."
"Oh, thank you for the 129th time," I snapped. "Or was that the thousandth? Maybe we should make it into a song. 'Liam saved Maya's life, Maya now owes Liam her soul.'" I sang angrily, pulling my wrist from his grip.
He laughed. "You know I don't mean it that way. I just enjoy seeing you irritated."
"Youuuuuu!!," I shouted and pointed my fingers at him angrily.
But he ignored me and just walked up to the side table, picking up the telephone.
He dialed it, and I stood wondering who he was calling," Hello chief chef."
The chef must have wondered why he called, because Liam's response was," No not at all, there's no issue." I just called to let you know that from today henceforth, Maya is relieved of her kitchen duties. She'll be working as my personal maid in my suite."
I rushed towards him in an attempt to pull the phone from his grip, "End the call, Liam!"
He raised a brow. " No, no... That's Mr. Liam to you. I hired you, remember? I'm your boss. Try using my name with some respect."
I wanted to scream. I could feel the rage boiling under my skin. He was unbearable.
I just want to grab him by the throat and watch him struggle for his dear life.
"Your work starts now," he added. "My entire body aches from hauling you off that railing. What do you eat? You're heavy as hell. And now I'm cold. So how about you run me a hot bath... followed by a good massage?"
I gritted my teeth. There was no way out. I couldn't afford to lose this job. Not now. So I marched to the bathroom like a war prisoner and started his bath.
I wish the chef had protested, but what could he have said?
'She's an important asset in the kitchen, she can't be relieved of her kitchen duties?' Or 'No Mr Liam I can't let you enslave my staff, she's my property or responsibility, not yours.'
Goddddddd!!!
Why is my luck so bad? I muttered angrily.
"Your bath is ready," I said as I walked out of the bathroom walking straight towards the door.
"Don't stand outside," he called. "You can wait here. Or... would you rather scrub my back? I could use an extra hand." He said with a smirk, that I wish I could just punch off his face.
I shot him a look. "You wish."
Without hesitating, I walked out the door, slamming the door behind me.
I stood outside the door, fuming. I muttered a thousand curses under my breath. One day, I swear I'll poison his food and walk away whistling.
A bell rang, and at first, I stood still, unsure of what the bell was for.
Then it rang again.
The fuck is wrong with him? Is he a child now playing with bells as toys? Where the fuck did he get a bell from by the way.
"Mayaaaaaaaa!!" His voice rang out louder than the bell.
I quickly rushed inside.
He stood in a towel, still wet, water trailing down the planes of his chest. I looked away immediately.
"Why weren't you responding? Did you not hear the bell?"
I looked at him like he'd been smoking stuff that's making him spout nonsense," You seriously weren't using a bell to call out to me?"
"What was I supposed to use? A whistle?" He asked, walking to the closet.
I stood there, for the first time short of words to say.
"That was the best bath I've had in my life," he sighed. "You must have put in a lot of love in preparing it for me. I honestly didn't know you cared so much about me." He said grinning from ear to ear.
I rolled my eyes, and unconsciously, they landed on his chest.
"Don't look. Don't look." I muttered to myself. "He's the devil with good shoulders. That's all."
"Where's the oil?" he asked. "You brought the massage oil, right?"
"I...I don't usually do this," I stammered. "I don't know where you keep your...uh...stuff."
"Check the drawer beside the bed." he said, pointing in the direction of the drawer.
I nodded and walked towards the drawer.
I pulled it open and froze.
"Oh. My. God." I gulped hard.
Sex toys. All shapes. All colors. Some that defied physics.
"You're disgusting," I said, shutting the drawer like it had just burned me.
"You could've just grabbed the oil and ignored the rest," he said casually.
"Youuuu..." I yelled.
Totally ignoring me like I was just over reacting, he walked to the drawer, pulled out the oil and tossed it at me," Here," he said."My body won't massage itself. Come on, put those soft little hands to work."
God, give me strength.
I did it. I massaged his back, "Ahhhh, softer baby..." he moaned.
"Be quiet, someone might hear you and think we're doing something"
"Mmm. Your hands are soft. Like you've never worked a day in your life. I can't help but moan."
"Just don't shout," I said angrily. But of course, he'd do the opposite.
"Ahhhhh,"
"Oooooh,"
"Harder,"
Staring at him lying flat on the surface, I thought that would be the perfect opportunity to just strangle the life out of him. But I didn't, I let a good opportunity go again.
At the end, I was too flushed and embarrassed to even walk out of the room.
By the end of the day, he had run me dry. "Maya, bring my food to my suite. Maya, my leg hurts, Massage it. Maya, fetch my robe. Maya, my back itches."
Maya, Maya, Maya, Maya, Maya.
Have never hated hearing my name so much until today.
When I finally collapsed on my bed that night, I felt like I'd been hit by a bus. I wanted to scream, cry, and slap him, maybe all at once.
How the hell did I get myself into this mess?