Cold

SIX

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Six

"Go on to the guest bedroom, Dexter. You'll find yourself a change of clothes in there. I won't have you looking like you're in a meeting in my house," his grandmother ground out as soon as she saw his dress-code.

He scanned his pristine white shirt and the tailored black pants he had on and frowned. What did having breakfast with her have anything to do with his attire?

"All this frowning is a total waste of time. Go on now," she literally shooed him away. He blinked at that action. She was the only woman who had the guts to do something like that. The rest knew better.

Not up to arguing with his Grandmother so early in the morning, he glided up the stairs both hands tucked in his pockets. He opened the door softly, looked up and stared at the sight in front of him.

"Oh! Mrs Hally, I can't seem to find the body towels," the naked woman in front of him spoke out.

Probably because she got no response from Mrs Hally, he watched her turn and freeze. She was endowed he thought. Her full, rounded and bare breasts stood out and as his eyes traced the rest of her body, something that annoyingly felt like male approval spasmed through his mind.

Suddenly, she jumped and covered herself. Well, at least attempted to. Despite her efforts, he could still very much outline her every edge.

He could almost see the wheels in her head turning as she stood before him. Her eyes seemed to reach anywhere else but at him and that annoyed him a great deal. Maybe because he was a man who liked to be looked at in the eyes when he confronted someone.

Finally, he got a glimpse at her face. This had to be some sick joke, he thought. It was the same woman from yesterday. First, he finds her standing on his chair. Now, naked?

This woman had to be working with someone who knew about what he did and when. How else could he explain these two odd incidents? He never met his workers but somehow, this woman had managed to surpass that. He clenched his jaw, very much annoyed.

He was staring holes in her face when he finally heard her speak. Make that try to.

"W-who are you?" He kept quiet at that. He was who was and he didn't feel in the mood to entertain this woman that he was sure had an agenda.

"I-I mean what're y-you doing here?" She stuttered. The woman couldn't seem to voice her sentences straight. He really had to hand it to her. She was good. Acting all vulnerable, like her intentions were completely pure.

"I should be asking you that," he grunted, to which he saw her flinch. Too bad he wasn't one to buy into emotions.

"I'm s-sorry Sir, but if you could just please turn around, I'll wear my clothes," he could hear the anger in her voice, brewing just below the surface, despite her attempt to sound calm.

Did the woman know that her face was like plethora of emotions. Whatever she felt, it showed on her face. He wondered what her face would look like when he made love to her.

Blaming that thought on his traitorous hormones, he shook it away and buried it. He did not have sexual relations with his workers.

Ignoring her earlier plea, he set about to finding the the actual reason behind her being here.

"What're you doing here?" It was a question that left no room for negotiations of any kind.

"You're the one who walked in on me naked!" She exclaimed loudly.