A Bad Boy in my life

Seven

"Can you take a plate to my room for me?" Maxon's voice held a surprising trace of politeness, a rare occurrence since the day I arrived.

Intrigued, I wondered what he wanted this time. Did he summon me to irritate me once again, or did he have something to say about the incident on Friday? Reluctantly, I realized I had no choice but to satisfy my curiosity, even if it meant entering the room I had been avoiding within the house.

Balancing the tray in my hands, I approached Maxon's door. With a quick knock, he swung it open and I entered, placing the food in its usual spot. He stood there, leaning against the table with his arms crossed, watching me intently.

"Anything else?" I asked, masking my sarcasm with a thin smile.

"Yes. Sit down" he said, gesturing toward the chair behind me.

My brows furrowed, suspicion creeping into my mind. "For what?"

"Just sit, girl," he insisted, his voice surprisingly calm.

I glanced at him, then at the chair, and back at him. "No," I refused, my curiosity piqued. "What do you want from me?"

"I just want to talk to you, girl!"

"Then talk! And stop calling me "girl"? I have a name!"

"And I would have to care to learn it, so, no"

"Oh, of course, can't expect you to care about anyone else but yourself."

He let out a sigh, his gaze shifting upward. "I suppose I was too hasty before. I'll try to be clearer this time."

I nodded, awaiting his explanation. He started like, "Normally, I don't talk to maids about stuff like this. But you saw something serious. If the wrong people find out, it's gonna be a massive disaster. So I need you to pinky promise you won't say a word about what you saw at the school gate on Friday."

I bit my cheek, contemplating his words. "Very well," I finally nodded. "But only if you uphold your end of the bargain as well."

His frustration seeped through his composed facade. "Understand this, girl—there are no 'ifs'. Pay attention..."

I cut him off, refusing to be dismissed. "Do I look like a fool to you? You soaked me in soda like I'm some garbage can the first time we met. And let's not forget all your other disrespectful acts. Just 'cause I work here doesn't mean I gotta put up with your nonsense. I could easily spill your stupid little secret if I wanted to."

His grip tightened on my arm, his anger palpable. "Hey, you dumb girl! Don't even think about pushing my buttons," he growled, sounding all threatening. "Listen up—I don't think you realize how much trouble you'll stir up if you spill the beans to anyone in this damn house."

Summoning all the confidence and courage I possessed, I stood my ground. "Well, I believe... that you wouldn't want to give me a reason to do so, would you?" I narrowed my eyes, challenging him.

He clenched his jaw, his gaze burning into mine as if attempting to devour me whole. He had no choice, and he knew it. That's why he was angry.

The consequences of my actions rested in my hands. If he was wise, he wouldn't dare contradict me.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though he engaged in an internal debate that remained beyond my hearing. Slowly, he released his grip on my arm, his anger simmering. "Very well," he grumbled, forcing a half-smile.

"Excellent. You have my word," I said, extending my hand in a gesture of genuine goodwill.

Ignoring my outstretched hand, he simply walked to the other side of the room, pointing at the door with his head. "Get out," he commanded.