His Maid (a Neymar Jr fanfic)

||seis||

Neymar had disappeared down the hallway and I followed his voice to the edge of the stairs.

He turned back to see if I was following him, and I suddenly noticed the close proximity between us. If he'd leaned forward, his forehead would be on mine, his lips..

I shook my head clear of these crazy thoughts and Neymar cleared his throat. He began walking up the velvet stairs, and I followed him.

The view of his behind wasn't that bad either. I widened my eyes at my own thoughts; what the hell was wrong with me?

After a few minutes, we reached a wooden door, which Neymar opened for me and let me in first. I guess chivalry wasn't dead these days. He followed closely behind and went into the dark room.

The room was large and dark, with a single large window overlooking the garden. The soft blood red carpet was welcoming, and there was a scent of vanilla and cigars in the air. A poker table resided in the corner of the room. A large wooden book case sat behind Neymar's desk, over-flowing with hundreds of books; I never knew Neymar read.

"You read?" I asked, walking over to the books and running my fingers over the spine of a hardcover. He got up and stood beside me, his tattooed hand rubbing the back of his neck; he was embarrassed.

"Uh, yeah, sometimes.." He said softly, avoiding eye contact.

"Why are you so embarrassed to read?" I said with a smile. "It's what all cool people do."

He chuckled, his eyes on me the whole time as he took a seat.

He sat in a large black chair, looking totally at ease, while I stood there in the doorway looking like a fool.

"Sit, Liliana. Would you like a drink?" He said, ushering me to the seat opposite his.

"Um, no thanks, sir." Was I meant to call him sir? Or maybe master?

He suddenly chuckled again. "Please. Just call me Neymar."

"Sir- I mean, Neymar," He smiled at that. "Is this about the time I walked in on you and your, um, girlfriend? Because I'm so sorry, it was my first day and I couldn't find my way and I swear I didn't mean to-"

He cut me off with his hand. And then he smiled. "It's okay, Liliana. I'm here to interview you, remember?"

I nodded, relief flooding my veins, followed by embarassment. He'd probably forgotten about it and I had to bring it up again.

"How old are you?" Neymar asked, playing with a pen in his hand.

"Nineteen."

"Good. How did you come to find information of this job?"

"Well, I saw it in a newspaper." I sat up straighter in my chair. Just as I was about to say more, Neymar's phone suddenly rang, and he cursed as he took it out of his pocket.

"Ola?" He began speaking in Portuguese, probably thinking I wouldn't understand. "Nah, babe, I'm with the lads right now." His face was totally blank as he lied to his girlfriend.

"Why do you need to know their names, Bruna?"

Neymar ran a hand over his face, quickly sending me an apologetic look.
I realised I'd been staring at him and
quickly looked away.

"You wanna come over again? Uh, sure okay then." And then, after a pause, "Of course we can carry on what we were doing last night. You bought new panties? That's lovely." He raised his brows, and- no, was Neymar blushing? Oh my god.