The Maid | P.Sh

| 22 |

I hummed to myself as I walked towards the laundry room with a basket in hand. I had just placed the basket down before a loud wailing noise errupted over the monitors.

"Miss Jung, I'm gonna need you in my office now," a small beep signalled the end of the message.

"Yes sir," I muttered under my breath and walked back up to the second floor, before I got the chance to set the laundry over to be washed.

As I reached the office, knocked on the door, recieved my usual answer and stepped inside. That oh so loved wonderfully cold 'yes'. Please remark my sarcasm.

"What do you need mr. Park?" I questioned and he just gestured to the chair across from him.

I hesitantly walked further into the office and he let out a small snicker before I sat down in the chair.

"You lost your shoes?" he questioned in amusement and I looked down at my bare feet.

"Your feet gets sore by walking around in heels for days," I nodded at him, "I apologize if it's an inconvenience."

"Miss Jung, since when did you begin to apologize for such things?" he questioned with a small laugh. Why was he so happy today? It seemed suspicious.

"Oh... well... I was supposed to be more professional," I excused in a mutter, "what did you want mr. Park?"

"Let me ask you a question," he said and folded his hands on the table in front of him, "do you feel intimidated by me?"

"No," I simply shook my head.

"Frightened?"

"No."

"Scared?"

"Not at all."

"Terrified?"

"Mr. Park. With all due respect I do believe I already answered these questions for you," I shook my head at him, "may I need to repeat myself once more?"

"I needed to confirm my theory," he stated with a shrug.

"Is that a theory you plan on sharing with me?" I questioned him.

"That I do," he hummed, "you see... I suspect you don't fear me, because you fear your brother much more."

"Why would I fear him much more?" I let out a small laugh at him, "that's ridiculous, he's my brother."

"He threatens to kill you. Described it in detail. Told you he couldn't wait to see the life run out of your eyes," he listed to me, "he even near choked you that one time. The worst possible thing I could do to you is cut your salary."

"Technically that's not true, sir," I shook my head at him.

"You know I won't do worse," he sighed at me.

"I have a memory of a bruise on my wrist that proves differently," I shook my head at him once more.

"Hm," he hummed with a small frown on his face, "first impression misunderstandings," he waved it off, "do you have any marks, like a bruise or such, from your brother?"

"A scar," I nodded at him and he arched a brow at me, "on the collarbone."

"So his was more long lasting than mine," he pointed out and I nodded.

"But his was more reasoned," I defended.

"Which is..." he waved his hand for me to continue.

"I think you already know. But you were just mad that I had drunk a cup of tea," I pointed out making him hum as his frown deepened even more.