Chapter 8

Alexis.

I spent hours scrubbing this house after that sadistic bastard decided to mix concentrated shampoo in my cleaning supplies. Foam was everywhere. My arms were sore, and my patience was long gone.

I underestimated him. He's smarter than I thought and more dangerous than I assumed.

And since he wouldn't be home until eight, I figured I might as well steal a moment of peace.

His bathtub was a dream.

Warm water bubble bath and the scent of cherry and strawberry wrapped around me, soothing the aches in my muscles. I closed my eyes, letting the heat sink into my bones. My body felt weightless.

For once, I wasn't scrubbing floors like some miserable maid in a godforsaken fairytale. I felt human.

I let my head rest against a soft towel, exhaling. The concealer I used to hide Dave's punch had already faded. I didn't want Mr. Carter to see it—he'd probably smirk like he won something.

I ignored the thought. I just needed a few more minutes.

"Comfortable?"

My heart stopped. I shot up, splashing water, my eyes snapping open.

He was already in the room. Standing by the doorframe smirking.

The candlelight flickered against his sharp features, casting dangerous shadows over his face. He stepped forward, his footsteps slow. The closer he got, the tighter my chest became.

It's seven. He wasn't supposed to be here yet. But there he was.

He crouched beside the tub, his gaze dipping to where the bubbles barely covered my chest. I folded my arms over myself, but it only made his smirk deepen.

"I saw right through your little plot. Trying to seduce me."

I swallowed hard.

His fingers tugged at his tie, loosening it like he had all the time in the world.

"So here I am, Alexis Castor Jean."

I looked away.

"My clothes were dirty and… I was sweaty…" I muttered. Lame.

He tilted his head, as if he could hear the frantic beating of my heart. And I know he liked it.

"Of all the places… you picked my bathtub."

I curled deeper into the water. He moved to sit opposite me, his knees brushing the porcelain edge.

"Your face is pink," he mused. "Don't tell me you're already shy. Didn't you want me to see and touch you?"

His voice was soft, almost hypnotic.

Then—his hand disappeared beneath the water.

My body locked up.

I couldn't see where he was reaching.

I hugged myself tighter. "I see the loan sharks have already paid you a visit."

I flinched. He noticed.

Damn you, Dave

"You need the money, don't you, Alexis?" His tone was mocking. "Since I'm such a kind man, I'll make a deal with you."

His hand brushed my ankle.

I froze.

My breathing hitched as his fingers trailed up my leg.

I panicked internally.

"I'll never make a deal with you, pervert!"

He chuckled, like he was enjoying this.

Then—he lifted his hand.

I gasped.

The bathtub plug was in his grasp.

Oh. My. God.

The water began to drain fast!

I pressed myself against the back of the tub, panic clawing up my throat.

If the water fully drained…

He'd see everything.

"Don't do that! The water will drain—give it back!" I yelped, my arms locked in place over my chest like my life depended on it. Because, well… It kind of did.

Mr. Carter stood over me, looking far too entertained by my predicament. His smirk was all sharp angles and pure, unfiltered evil.

"Oh?" He leaned against the counter, twirling the tub plug between his fingers like a villain in a soap opera. "And what exactly are you willing to do for it?"

I scowled. "I swear, if you don't give it back, I'll—"

"You'll what?" He cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the steadily lowering water. "Come out and fight me?"

I shut my mouth so fast I nearly bit my tongue.

This was bad. My stomach was already exposed, and the bubbles were disappearing at an alarming rate. Any second now, I was going to flash this arrogant bastard, and I refused to let him win like that.

"Fine! What do you want?" I said quickly, eyes darting between him and the swirling drain.

His smirk deepened. "See, I don't like to lose," he mused. "So if you behave this week—no pranks, no attitude, just a perfect little housemaid—and let me win this stupid bet against my best friend, I'll double whatever he's paying you."

I paused.

Four. Million. Dollars!

That was a lot of money. More than I had ever seen in my life. More than enough to make Dave and his relentless goons a distant nightmare. But was it worth putting up with him?

...Honestly? Yes.

"Deal," I said, gritting my teeth.

"Good girl." His voice was all slow amusement, dripping with satisfaction.

"Great, now put the plug back!" I demanded, desperately clutching the remaining foam for dear life.

He let out a dark chuckle—one that sent a shiver down my spine.

Then, to my absolute horror, he threw the plug across the room.

"Who said I'd give it back?"

My jaw dropped. "You demon—!"

The water level was practically at my thighs now. With no time to argue, I grabbed the towel behind me with one hand, pressed it against my chest, and shot up from the tub.

Bad idea.

I immediately slipped, nearly face-planting onto the tile. In a desperate attempt to avoid death, I flailed and barely managed to steady myself—though at the cost of the towel shifting dangerously low on my back.

"Smooth," Mr. Carter drawled, casually watching my struggle.

I shot him a glare so intense it could've peeled paint off walls.

Clutching the towel with everything I had, I bolted out of the bathroom, grabbed my uniform with my free hand, and ran to the guest room like my life depended on it.

By the time I had dried my hair and changed, I was feeling pretty good about my escape—until Mr. Carter strolled in, first aid kit in hand.

"What now?" I huffed, rubbing at my damp cheek.

He stopped in front of me and frowned. "You're bleeding."

I blinked, glancing at my reflection. Huh. Small red spots had appeared where I'd smacked into the door in my rush to flee.

He sighed, setting the kit down. "Sit."

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm fine—"

"Sit."

Something in his tone made me comply.

He knelt beside me, opened the kit, and dabbed a cloth with disinfectant before pressing it against my cheek.

I hissed. "Ow! Damn it!"

"Stay still," he muttered, his left hand cupping my jaw to keep me from pulling away. "You hit yourself pretty hard. You need to be more careful, geez."

I scowled. "Oh, I need to be careful? Says the psycho who nearly drowned me for fun?"

He smirked. "You weren't drowning, Billie. You were just losing."

I groaned, slumping against the chair. What had I gotten myself into?

He peeled a bandaid from its wrapper and pressed it gently onto my cheek, his touch so unexpectedly soft that I momentarily forgot who I was dealing with.

Was this the same Mr. Carter who had just cackled like a cartoon villain while letting me suffer in a draining bathtub? The same man who usually treated me like an annoying fly buzzing around his penthouse?

I stared up at him, utterly perplexed. His teal eyes, normally sharp and unreadable, held something different—something almost… sweet.

We stood there for a moment, frozen in this strange, uncharted territory.

Then, like a switch flipping, his expression darkened. His fingers found my temple, and before I could react—push.

"Now get the fuck out of my bedroom," he snapped, shattering whatever weird, heartwarming moment that had just happened.

I stumbled back slightly, blinking. "Wow. And here I thought we were having a bonding moment," I muttered.

He just gave me that signature, soul-draining stare, the one that probably made his enemies reconsider their words.

I sighed dramatically and turned toward the door. Just as I was about to step out, the words left my mouth before I could stop them.

"Thank you."

Silence.

Even I was surprised I said it.

I half-expected him to hurl an insult at my back, but nothing came. So, with a smirk tugging at my lips, I stepped into the elevator, watching the doors slowly close.

Then, finally, I let my grin break free.

Because tonight, Mr. Carter was in for a surprise.

The last little gift I'd left on his bed—right on the side he always slept on—was waiting for him. The final prank before the whole bathtub fiasco turned the night into absolute chaos.

He thinks I'm done? Please.

Messing with this man is my new favorite hobby.