TRENT

I'm late on my first day at work!

I step onto the front porch of the posh mansion and toss my brown curls into a bun.

I'm nervous.

I knock on the door fingers crossed, praying my 'boss to be' is not in.

I hear the approaching of footfalls. My palms are wet. My heart is throbbing fast. I grip my black leather bag tightly when I hear the doorknob creak.

The door flings open.

A young man.

A very young man. Probably in his early twenties. I didn't expect that! I expected a much older man or woman. This is probably the tycoon's son. He can't be the owner of this house!

He can't be my boss!

The setting sun is gleaming on his creamy, chocolate skin making the shade of his hazel eyes look lighter.

His jaw is clenched, looking all stern and serious.

He brushes his hands swiftly through his dark, curly hair as he drinks the water from a pepsi bottle. He is thirsty. And sweaty. So sweaty that his grey sportshirt is wet on the chest and armpits.

Damn! He's so sexy!

He scans me from head to toe before his eyes settle on mine.

"I don't like your eyes," he says bluntly.

Ouch!

"Where is your father? He's expecting me," I say in the politest way possible, ignoring his rude remark.

He moves closer to me and leans on the door. He has this serious look on his face. It's like he never smiles. Ever!

"My father is in Liverpool!" He has a deep rich voice with a thick british accent.

I gasp in shock and move back. "But Troy gave me this address. The owner of this house is expecting me..."

I'm now confused. Is this the wrong address? Am I in the wrong house?

He takes another step towards me. "It's me who is expecting you. I live here."

He is now so close to me that I feel his breathe on my face as he stares at me. His scent is a mixture of sweat and expensive cologne.

"I'm your boss!" He says sternly.

"You!" I bark in disbelief.

He's my boss! No way!

"Yeah, and you're late!" He grunts.

He looks at me sharply as if I'm some thief. He is making me nervous and I hate it!

"Leave those things you're wearing at the doorstep!," he retorts glaring at my flat shoes.

The guy is really getting on my nerves.

If only I had a choice...

I quickly take off my shoes and follow him as he walks briskly into the mansion.

××××

The huge two-story house is no less attractive on the inside.

The expensive comfortable white leather couches surround the round glass table in the middle, near the huge fireplace. A flatscreen TV is stuck on the wall, facing the couches directly. A painting hovering on the wall catches my eye... A colored nude girl with flowers growing in her private parts...

I love paintings. I love art.

This house is spotlessly clean. I'm wondering why I'm even needed.

Everything is brilliant white. From the couches to the ceiling to the floor to the walls to the sheer lace curtains. The entire house is sparkling white.

"Are you done?," he asks arrogantly, breaking the silence.

"What?" I stop looking around.

"Are you done admiring my house?"

Ugh! I'm not admiring his house!

Looking at him, I note that he's also barefoot. He's wearing some grey sweatpants and a grey sportshirt that shows off his muscular biceps and a network of veins on his arms.

If he was not arrogant and such a pain in the ass, I would have termed him as good looking.

His phone rings.

He delves into his pockets to fish out the phone. He presses it to his ear.

"Yeah, she did... She was late!"

Shit!

He's talking to Troy! I don't want Troy to know I'm late! He will eat me alive!

"She is..." He scans me from head to toe again. "Young! I told you I wanted someone older!"

He listens to Troy for a couple more minutes and hangs up.

"Goodnight."

He takes one step closer to me, his hands behind his back like some strict school principal.

"I don't want to know why the hell you came late, but I promise I will fire you if you ever come late again!"

It sounds like a threat.

I politely nod.

"Didn't Troy tell you you should come dressed in uniform?"

"Uniform?"

"Yes, a black skirt and a white shirt!"

I shake my head. "No he didn't..."

"I should see you in uniform tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't call me sir."

He digs his hands in his pants and gazes at me.

"There are a few rules I want to put across."

He clears his throat.

"Rule number 1! Don't fall for me!"

What! Fall for you! I can't fall for such an arrogant ass like you...

I can't help but burst into a mocking laugh. "I can't!"

He smirks. "They all laugh like that until..."

They? Who is they?

"Rule number 2! Never ever cook in my kitchen! I'm the only one who cooks my food."

Great! Coz at least I won't be tempted to poison you!

"Rule number 3! You should not enter my house with shoes! Leave them at the doorstep..."

 Okay Mr. Clean!

"Rule number 4! Clean each and every room in my house but never go anywhere near my trophy room!"

Trophy room! He has a room full of trophies? Who the hell is this guy?

He goes silent and hesitates for a while.

"And rule number 5?," I ask him, lightly biting my lower lip nervously.

His sharp stare goes down to my wet lips.

"Rule number 5! Stop biting your damn lips all the time!"

What! Is this some fifty shades of grey or something! Anna, don't bite your lip! Who the hell does he think he is! Christian Grey!

"Why does biting my lips bother you?"

He bursts into a wild laugh. The first time I see him not acting all serious and stern.

"It does not bother me, love. It just doesn't work on me!" He snorts.

I raise an eyebrow. "Work on you?"

"That 'seductive' game you are playing isn't working on me," he scoffs.

I've had enough!

I can't stop myself from snapping.

"I don't know who you think you are and what kind of money you think you have! But I won't let you disrespect me and force desires on me that don't even exist! I don't like you! You are nothing close to my type! You have the stinking stench of pride allover you and its disgusting. And I hate it! I'm here for work! I'm here to make an extra coin! So don't make my work harder than it is. I'm not here for you! I'm here to do my fucking job! Sir!"

Oh my God! What have I just done! You have officially lost your job Becca!

He crosses his hands against his chest and grins at me.

He should be mad at me! Why the hell is he grinning?

"You are also nothing close to my type," he smirks, looking at my simple flary emerald green dress.

Is my dress ugly? It cost me a dime! I quickly straighten it up, feeling timid about it.

"Work begins tomorrow. You have passed the test. Don't forget to carry your uniform and be punctual! I love punctuality!"

What does he mean by test! What sort of a stupid test is this!

He turns to go upstairs when I stop him abruptly. 

"Hey!"

He looks back, confused.

"Don't you know the way out?"

I force a smile.

"Well, if I am not allowed to call you sir, at least I should know your name."

He laughs, blatantly shocked.

"You don't know me? Seriously? Didn't Troy tell you who I am?"

I shake my head, trying my best not to roll my eyes. It's not like he's some movie star or some freaking famous football star.

"Trent Aston," He winks at me. "G****e me."

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