Chapter 4 CHA

"Do Mom know about this?" Glenn asked, and he couldn't help but play his other parent card.

"Who do you think I'm getting instructions from?"

Clenching his teeth, he ought to have known. His parents, all decisions about being a parent, they made jointly. When his younger sister Lily had chosen she wanted to study to be a doctor and not become part of the family business, their parents had sat down and made it work.

"I believe that you should go to work. You have a lot to do."

With that, he was sent away.

He grabbed his coffee and departed.

"How are you?" Sylvia inquired.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wonderful." He entered the elevator, furious and two inches short.

At least his father had not embarrassed him in front of everybody like that; something he would have found it difficult to live down.

Wiping a hand across his face, he had no clue what the fuck he was going to do. Where he was supposed to be was at the board, as was being the boss like his dad. He was trained for it his whole life. It was being taken from him now, and he could not let that happen.

Don't steal stuff?

Maggie Zacas fumed all day as she cleaned Mr. Blackwood's apartment. How dare he! She should be used to his kind of abuse, though. Yep, he liked to believe everyone else was beneath him. Well, fuck him.

She did not want to swear in front of others, but this man was just one hundred percent asshole. She should quit and make him clean his own damn space. He was a good tipper, though.

She'd been cleaning for him for the last two years, and on each holiday throughout the year, there was always an envelope with 'cleaning lady' printed on it. On the inside, a small amount of money and a note saying thank you.

See, condescending dick millionaire had something about him, and that's why she kept returning. Naturally, he said the ugliest things, but whatever.

She had just completed preparing the week's meals that he did not know she did. Placing everything away, washing up the dishes, she left him his daily lunch. The first week that she worked for him, she overheard the argument with his delivered cooked food individuals about not paying attention to what he desired and thus using lower-cost ingredients and not even employing a recipe. She'd been so angry, she made him call off his service and prepared all of his favorites herself. And to this point, no complaints, unaware of the additional effort she'd been putting in. She'd just finished it when she heard the door open.

Usually, she was already gone when Mr. Blackwood returned. Oh no, that's terrible. I don't want to remain here with him. She had no clue what to do. Grabbing her bag where she'd placed it, she folded her hands together and was about to leave when he stormed into the room.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?" he bellowed.

"Oh, sorry. Plenty of cleaning to do today."

He opened the refrigerator. "Yes, did they take the vegetable soup. I bloody love it, and the lentil curry I was thinking of?"

"I, er, I don't know. I put all the food away and so I'll be off now."

"I've had a shit day."

She stood in the doorway while he put the vegetable soup she had made into the microwave. For the best flavor, she believed it should be warmed up on the stove, but clearly, he knew what he was doing.

He ran a hand over his face. She had never seen him so disheveled, except in a newspaper. "I better go."

"How do people happen to meet somebody and then just instinctively know they're the one immediately?" he demanded.

"Pardon me?" she asked.

They never exchanged a word. He growled orders with a warning and walked away from her.

The microwave beeped. He grabbed the tub and started to eat it immediately, drinking it from the cup.

Right, this was never something that was going to be over in a hurry. It would all be fine. She watched him, hoping she did not have to see this. Arms crossed, she stood there and he just kept staring at her. This was the longest they'd ever spent together when he was not being awful to her. It was different.

"Would you like a spoon?" she said.

"No, it's fine like that. So, do you have a boyfriend?"

"I don't think it's any of your business."

"Fine. It's not business, but tell me. Do you?"

"Again, I'm not going to say."

Why was he doing this?

"You're a cleaner. I promise you spend all day coming up with a scheme for how to get out of that life."

Now he was being obnoxious.

"I think about getting the job right."

"Yes, well, I think I've just figured it out. You've been working for me for a couple of years."

"Two years."

"During all that time, there would be plenty of time to fall in love."

"Wait, what?" she asked herself. When did love suddenly become a part of a working relationship?

"He wouldn't need to know. It would be the perfect kind of cover."

"I have no clue what you're on about at the moment, and I think it's time for me to be off."

This served as a demonstration that if you hung around too long after work, you stood to hear things that you had no interest in hearing.

She headed for the door only to be halted by Mr. Cocky himself. He took her by the arm and turned her around. "It's perfect."

"What's perfect?"

"You."

"I don't get it."

"Listen, my dad is making me take family seriously now. Not that I get the whole institution, but it's what he wants, and I'm sure it's something I'm going to have to give to him. You're perfect."

"Wait, you need me to go out with you?"

"Only with my dad. He'll believe whatever we say. It'll be a perfect scam." He grinned and nodded, looking very pleased with himself.

"This is crazy."

"Not if it works."

"You're talking about lying to your father. I'm guessing this whole family thing is a big deal to him." She was very much aware of the entire foundation of what the Blackwood family was built on.

Glenn had made it hard for her to not know what kind of person he was, and to know he apparently came from people who regarded family highly, she was shocked by the way he behaved. She'd seen the papers. He was a playboy. Mean as well.

"Yes, it is, but I'll pay you."

"What?"

"You heard. You can write your own check for you to pretend to be my girlfriend next weekend."

"Why next weekend?"

His grin spread wider.

She scrunched up her face. "I'm so not thinking about this."

"The fact that you're curious about what is happening next weekend is another reason you're thinking about it."

"No. Hell, no. I'm not going to pretend to be some rich kid's plaything."

"Girlfriend, maybe a fiancée."

"You're just telling me you'll lie to your family. That's bad."

"Not if it's worth getting what I want."

"Wait a minute, hold on. Why do you even need a girlfriend?"

she inquired.

"I'm not going to tell you unless you swear."

She was afflicted to be curious-minded. She really believed she was a cat in a former life.

"Be my girlfriend, and you'll never have to clean again. I'll take care of you for the rest of your life."

"That easy? I just have to be your pretend girlfriend?"

"It's not that hard to do. I'm a pretty good catch."

She smiled. "Wow. And if I do accept, you'll tell me what you have to gain out of it?"

"Yes."

"No, I am not going to do this. It's absurd."

"I'll do anything you want," he said.

"There's nothing you can do for me."

"Come on. I'm rich. You're not. You clean my house."

Which is a very honorable profession!" She glared at him. "Fine, you want me to be your girlfriend. What's my name?"

"What?" he said.

She folded her arms while he continued to look at her. "You listened. I have been employed by you for two years. I hear a lot about you from the little conversation we have had. What is my name?"

"That doesn't matter."

She laughed. "You don't even know it, do you?"

"What do I need to know about you other than you clean for me? I don't need all the rest and the details. You're doing a good job."

She snorted. "You're unbelievable."

"Okay, what do I know about you precisely?" This time he yelled.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Great. You're Glenn Blackwood. The only male heir to the Blackwood empire. Your company boasts itself as the ideal fit for the family couple. There's not a department on earth that you're not in. Media, cosmetics, pharmacy, the lot. Personally, to you? You rave. You drink heavily and you sleep with a string of casual women. You like your bed ironed and it has to be done in a certain way because only you do it, although you pay me to come in and iron it. You also don't like dust. You have extra dusting cloths and polish lying around your flat. I suppose it's all down to those pristine black surfaces that love to point out when it hasn't been dusted. You love food, especially vegan food, but you like to keep that little piece of gossip to yourself. You go out to restaurants, order stacks of vegetables so no one knows you're not a fan of eating animal products. The same goes with clothes. None of them have any man-made fabrics in them, and you also donate to sanctuaries from time to time. Again, all information kept on the down-low. If you exercise too heavily, you've got a limp on your left leg and it kicks off. You won't take painkillers. How am I doing so far?" She caught her breath and couldn't believe she'd given away so much information.

"That's. Interesting."

"Yeah, I know all of that from two years of cleaning your penthouse and you can't even remember my name. Do you even recall what you tell me every time you leave in some capacity or another?"

He opened his mouth, shut it.

"Make sure you don't steal my shit. So, if you do want a girlfriend, I'd recommend you try to find someone else that you're not worried about stealing things. Good day, Glenn."