Three

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"Please, eat," Mr

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"Please, eat," Mr. Styles told Katherine as he set down the dinner plate in front of her.

"I could have done that," she grumbled as he moved to retrieve her some cutlery and a napkin.

"I am perfectly capable of being a gentleman. I asked you to have dinner with me," he told her as he set the silverware out in front of her.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Would you like a glass of wine, Miss Mason?" He asked. Oh, it was back to Miss Mason now?

"Please," she said quietly.

She watched as he poured her a glass of red wine and refilled his own glass before finally taking his seat once again.

"Your food is probably cold now," she commented.

"It's just fine, thank you," he told her, looking at her from the corner of his eye as he took a bite.

They ate in quiet synchronicity and she wondered what the hell he was thinking. She could feel his eyes on her every once in a while and it only made her question his reasoning over and over. Why tonight of all nights did he ask her to have dinner with him? She had been working for him for weeks now. Was it because she found his little deviant stash of sex toys?

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, and much to her surprise, he was already looking over at her, his half-emptied wine glass in his hand. He did nothing to look away when she caught him gazing at her. She looked away quickly, only to find his eyes again moments later – still staring.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Styles?" She asked boldly, wondering what he found so interesting.

"No," he said nonchalantly as he took a sip of his wine, still watching her.

"There must be something on your mind," she pressed, grabbing her own glass to take a sip.

She watched as his tongue darted out, wetting his pink lips, and the mindless act tugged at her insides. Oh, this man was infuriatingly sexy.

His eyebrows furrowed in question seconds before he started speaking.

"What made a woman like you – someone so attractive, so appealing to so many men, I'm certain – take on a job of this nature? One where you're entrapped in my fortress in the sky as a live-in housekeeper rather than living a normal life with a boyfriend or a love interest?" He questioned brazenly. Her eyebrows heightened with his words.

"Am I correct to assume you don't have a boyfriend?" He asked, looking more than a little complacent.

"No, no. I don't," she replied bashfully as she looked down at her hands. Was it written all over her face? Her body language?

"So what made you take on a job like this, where you're assured not to have the time for a healthy dating life?" He asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"I'm not a prisoner here, Mr. Styles," she snapped, her eyes narrowing in offense.

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