Grand Theft of my Heart *Trevor Phillips x Reader*

part 5

Frozen in place, you stand there, the weight of silence hanging heavily between you and Trevor. Normally, his face exudes charm and warmth, but this time, anger fills his eyes, causing the air around you to thicken, suffocating you ever so slightly.

 "Trevor, stop scaring the help," Michael asserts sternly before striding past you and into the dining room to prepare his meal.

He seems to take advantage of your dazed state, "Amanda finally let you get a girlfriend, Michael?" trevor says in a snicker over his shoulder.

 However, his response is met with an unamused look from both you and Amanda. "Why do you insist on bringing this trash to our home, Michael?" Amanda retorts, launching the start of what feels like the umpteenth round of their ongoing feud.

"Well, if I'm trash, you—oof!" Michael swiftly steps on Trevor's foot, causing him to recoil and emit a sound as if he had stubbed his toe.

 "We're gonna go talk in the living room, (y/n). Could you bring a couple of beers when you get a chance?" You nod obediently, ready to respond with your usual "yes, sir." However, Amanda interjects with her customary level of bitchiness.

 "Not before she finishes those dirty dishes in the sink, she won't." You cringe and close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to compose yourself. You're not sure why Amanda feels the need to constantly berate you, but she has about three more times before your inner strength emerges and puts her in her place.

"Will do, sir, after I fulfill Mrs. De'Santa's request," you reply, dripping sarcasm from every word. You can sense the gruff look Amanda shoots you, unsure whether she should yell or not. Without giving her time to decide, you head into the kitchen to tackle the dishes, witnessing the departure of the kids to their rooms from the corner of your eye.

Amanda observes you for a while, deciding there is no fight to be had in this moment. Wasting no time, she marches over to Michael, tugging him along and disappearing into the garage. Once you hear the door close, muffled yelling emanates from behind it, but you don't bother eavesdropping; you simply don't care enough.

 "So, who's the creep here?" A dark, raspy voice startles you, and you turn to find Trevor, leaning against the counter with one hand, the other resting in his jean pocket. The way he gazes at you lacks any warmth or invitation. "So, you find me and then befriend all my friends in a pathetic attempt to get close to me? Are you some sort of spy?"

His words leave you dumbfounded, still clutching a partially cleaned plate in your hand. "I told you I was a maid," you respond, pivoting to run hot water over the stubborn grime on the dish. There's a brief moment of silence, but before you can ascertain his next move, you feel his breath against the nape of your neck. 

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that it's just a mere coincidence that you ended up working for someone I know, and even worse, someone I don't particularly trust?" As he spoke those words, the final piece of the food on the plate slipped off, splashing hot water into the sink. You turned to face him, but his close proximity to the counter limited your movement. His presence was suffocating, with one hand on either side of you, caging you in.

"Yes," You retorted simply trying not to let him see how nervous you were, "and do you really not trust your own friend? His kids call you uncle, indicating a close bond between you two," you replied, trying to maintain a light-hearted tone. However, before you could continue in a joking manner, he leaned in closer pinning you between the sink and the counter, trapping you in his intoxicating smell.His intense demeanor sent shivers down your spine as his shadow loomed over you, his piercing gaze drilling into your skull.