Chapter 5 STUPID IS ME

BELLA ADAMS

***

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Five minutes left.

I shouldn't have gone to talk to the landlord right before work. What was I thinking? I was too focused on locking down the apartment, completely forgetting about the ticking clock. Now here I am, sprinting like a maniac through the gates of a literal mansion, praying to Jesus to spare me just this one time from utter humiliation.

"Please let me make it. Please, God," I muttered, my bag bouncing against my hip, shoes slapping against the perfectly polished stone path. The security guards outside raised their brows as I bolted past them. I couldn't even stop to greet them - they were probably used to people arriving in luxury cars, not on foot and half-out-of-breath like a late pizza delivery.

I checked my watch again.

Two minutes.

My lungs were burning. My ponytail was half undone. I was sweating in places I didn't even know could sweat. But the second my feet landed inside the house and I caught sight of the grand chandelier overhead, I skidded to a stop and threw my hands in the air.

"FINALLY!" I announced like I'd just won gold at the Olympics. A victorious grin split across my face.

Then... silence.

I blinked and looked ahead.

Two pairs of eyes were staring at me.

And not just any eyes. Mr. Liam Parker's cool, sea-colored, judgmental eyes and his son Ryan's round, confused ones.

Oh. Crap.

He's here?

But-why?

Why is he home?

He's always at work by this time. My brain scrambled to find some logic, but it was too busy trying to recover from the jog of shame.

"Hey... to both of you," I said, still wheezing like I'd just climbed Everest.

Mr. Parker didn't say anything. He just stood up from the sofa, adjusted Ryan in his arms, and walked toward me with the kind of quiet power that made me want to back away. But I didn't. I was too stubborn-and too mortified-to move.

He stopped right in front of me. I could smell his cologne-subtle, expensive, and totally unfair to my nervous system.

Then he looked at his watch.

Here it comes.

"I'm on time. You can't fire me," I blurted out, throwing up my hands in surrender before he could open his mouth.

He raised one perfect brow. "I can see that. But do you always crash into your workplace like this?"

"Crash?" I repeated, flustered.

"I mean," he gestured vaguely at me, "running, shouting, gasping for breath like you're in an action movie."

"Well, I... I was getting late so I ran, and then the door was open, and I just... entered. I'm sorry," I said quickly, my eyes dropping to the floor.

He didn't respond. Instead, he shifted Ryan down from his arms and called out, "Maria."

Maria emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, giving me a small smile of sympathy.

"I hope you've met Miss Adams already," he said.

Maria nodded. "Yes, Sir. We met yesterday."

While he started giving her instructions, my eyes, traitorous as ever, wandered. He was wearing a tailored black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, veins slightly visible, hinting at strength and calm authority. His watch glinted against his skin. His jaw-clean-shaven, sharp-and those damn sea-colored eyes were impossible to ignore.

I bit my lip.

I should not be thinking about what it would feel like to be kissed by him. Definitely not when he was talking about grocery lists.

But my mind didn't listen.

What if he suddenly pulled me close right now? Just reached out, slid his hand around my waist, leaned in, and kissed me? Would it be slow and warm? Or firm and breath-stealing?

"Bella."

My daydream popped like a bubble. I looked at Maria, who was silently gesturing at me to turn back around. When I did, I found Mr. Parker staring at me with a tired expression.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"Stop spacing out," he said bluntly. "I don't like it."

Rude.

I nodded, trying to shake off the embarrassment.

"I'll be leaving now," he said.

He crouched to Ryan's level, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. "Dad will be back soon. Be good."

Ryan gave a tiny nod. It was the most expressive I'd seen him all morning.

My heart softened.

Then Mr. Parker turned to leave. I watched him, and that ache-the one I'd been trying to ignore since day one-returned. That question started clawing at me again.

No. You have to ask. Now or never.

"WAIT!"

Everyone froze.

Even I froze.

The maids. Maria. Ryan.

All eyes turned to me.

I slapped my hand over my mouth.

What kind of idiot yells like that at their boss?

Mr. Parker turned slowly, his brows drawn tight.

"Umm... sorry," I said awkwardly. "I just... I have to ask something."

"What?" he said flatly.

"Can we talk in private?"

"No. Just say it."

"It's a private matter."

"I don't have time, Miss Adams."

"It won't take long, but-"

"Just say it."

He looked annoyed now, which only made it worse.

Fine. You asked for this.

"Did we... have sex that night?"

The silence that followed was deadly.

Every maid in the room stopped breathing. Maria looked like she might drop the plate she was holding. Ryan turned his curious eyes toward his father.

Mr. Parker's jaw tightened.

He looked at the maids, then back at me with disbelief flooding his features.

I gave him an innocent smile. You asked me to say it. Not my fault.

He inhaled slowly, clearly trying to keep his cool.

"No, Miss Adams," he said through clenched teeth. "We did not have sex that night."

Holy. Shit.

Wait.

OH MY GOD.

I'M STILL A VIRGIN.

"OH MY GOD! YASSSSSSSS!" I screamed, spinning around like I'd just won the lottery.

Mr. Parker flinched. Ryan blinked up at me. I picked the poor kid up and twirled with him. "Did you hear that? Your daddy didn't take my V-card! Hallelujah!"

The room was silent. The kind of silence that only comes after you drop a very, very loud bomb.

Reality came crashing back. I set Ryan down and cleared my throat.

"Umm... sorry," I said, facing Mr. Parker again.

He glared.

I looked down like a scolded puppy.

Without a word, he turned and left.

I let out a breath. Ryan eyed me like I was untrustworthy. Then he ran off to his room, probably to report me to someone.

I whispered, "Thank you, Jesus," to the ceiling.

But... if he didn't sleep with me... did he even kiss me?

Why does that thought make me sad?

I shook the question from my head and walked toward Ryan's room. I found him on his bed, legs crossed, quietly playing with a small plush lion.

I sat down beside him.

"Hey. I know we've met before, but let's start over, okay? I'm Bella. Can we be friends?"

He blinked at me.

"Do you like cookies?"

No reply.

I pulled out the cookie box Nanny packed and offered it to him.

He stared at it. "Thank you, Miss Adams. But Dad said not to take anything from strangers."

Ouch.

"I'm not a stranger," I said, trying not to pout. "I'm your babysitter."

He shook his head.

This boy is something else.

"Okay, fine. I'll eat them," I said, taking a bite. "Mmm. These are the best cookies in the world."

I chewed dramatically. "Nanny has magic in her fingers. If you don't eat them, that's your bad luck."

He glanced at the box... then ran out of the room.

I stared after him, cookie halfway to my mouth.

Stubborn little angel.