By Any Means Necessary

2

"Do you get it?" Ian practically bounces behind Amelia as she entered the house, clearly amused by his own joke. "Hoodie, sunglasses, infamous mass murderer..." His hopeful expression was met with Amelia's blank face.

"Give it a rest Ian." Mr. Chocolatey goodness breathed out, covering his face with his hand.

"Man. Tough crowd." 

Behind her shades Amelia rolled her eyes, not really in the mood for jokes. Her life was unraveling and no one seemed to care but her.  She watched Ian shake his head as he walked away mumbling about women with sticks so far up their butt they'd never need a toothpick. Having been accused many times of having a stick up where the sun doesn't shine, she had to admit that one was funny. She bit the inside of her cheek to avoid giving Ian the satisfaction of her laughter.

"Ms. Stanton, please forgive my roommate. We've been friends since the third grade, plus he pays his portion of the rent on time, so what can I do." He chuckled as he directed her to a seat on a sofa cluttered with controllers to some gaming system she'd probably never play in her life. 

The room was such a conundrum and she briefly wonder who their designer was. She nearly snickered at the thought, they couldn't possibly have a designer. Interior design was her thing and just the thought of getting her hands on that room had them tingling in excitement

"Please call me Amelia." She pulled her eyes away from the decor and extended her hand in greeting.

"Miles," He accepted her hand and folded his lean body into the seat next to her. "Ian means well. He just lacks a filter sometimes."

"No need to apologize for him. We are who we are." Her eyes once again darted around the formal furniture with floral arm chairs with an occasional bean bag chair tossed about. Was this a frat house or had she some how been transported to Ma-dear's house, her 80 year old grandmother who in spite of the fortune her husband amassed had plastic slip covers on her furniture until the day she passed.

Amelia felt Miles' eyes on her and her eyes flicked to him just in time to see his brow dip in confusion and an amused smirk tip the right corner of his mouth. Lord have mercy. A dimple. How dare he? The audacity of this man to have dimples on top of everything else he was working with.

"You do know what this job entails?" Miles licked his lips looking her up and down with a look she couldn't quite call interest, more like curiosity with a dash of amusement.

"Yes. We discussed it over the phone. Was that not you I spoke with?"

"Yeah it was, but..." His eyes roamed her again and she immediately took offense to the ending smirk. "You don't necessarily seem like the type to be comfortable cleaning toilets."

Her spine stiffened and she methodically removed the sunglasses from her face, folding them between her palms before locking eyes with his. "Let me break it down to where you can understand." Her condescending tone knocked the smile off his lips. He'd better brace himself, she wasn't done yet. She mimicked the urban edge she'd heard in his voice and let posture relax back into the sofa as she slung her arm across the back of it. "Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do." She may be down and out, but she wasn't going to take crap from anyone, including the man or men she worked for, no matter how fine he or they were. She pinched herself for even acknowledging that Ian was just as gorgeous as Miles in his own way. "Let's have a tour of the house shall we." She was right back to her air of superiority as she stood to her feet and motioned toward the dark hallway Ian had walked down.

Miles gripped her elbow and rose to his full six feet four inches, totally invading her bubble. Her neck craned back as he stepped even closer, leaning his face into the space her strained posture had created between her ear and shoulder. "Contrary to what you're used to. You do not run anything over here. I lead. You follow."

She should have been offended, hurt, or down right pissed off that he'd manhandled her, but Lord help her. The pulse thumping through her body wasn't rage. She snapped her mouth shut, partly to catch the drool his gruff command elicited and to keep from responding with a wispy, 'Yes sir'. She followed his easy stride without hesitation. She was pretty sure he showed her to five bedrooms, all with en suite bathrooms, a kitchen, dining area, and some random room with a weird looking couch the only furniture posted in the center of the room. She was so mesmerized by the jeans riding low on his hips, she missed it all.