Maid For Him / l.h ✔️

8

~Beyla's POV~

Mr. Hemmings was an odd man, I was learning.

I was trying my best to grow more comfortable with him, though, because he clearly had caught onto the fact that he intimidated me. He was still my boss, of course, so I was having a little bit of trouble with trying not to continuously feel so inferior to him, since that was the problem here. It was just in my nature to worry, especially at a new job.

"Ms. Verdine, are you ready to go yet?" Mr. Hemmings called from outside my bedroom door, but he didn't sound annoyed with me, thankfully. I lifted my head and quickly tossed my makeup back into my caboodle, deciding that I had touched it up enough. "Just a minute!" I called back as I scrambled out of bed, hurriedly shutting the caboodle. Not wanting to keep him waiting, I grabbed my across the body purse and slipped it on, making sure I still looked okay in the mirror that hung above the dresser.

My dark hair fell down my back in nicely styled waves and my makeup looked pretty good as well, while my white turtleneck sweater and black jeans hugged my figure in a flattering way. Since I already had on my black boots, I was ready to leave now.

Although I didn't personally see how or why it was necessary, Mr. Hemmings was persistent on taking me with him to some lunch that he had with someone. If I remembered correctly, it was with a girl that worked with him, or maybe it wasn't that she worked with him but that she was from a rivaling business. I furrowed my brows in thought as I opened the bedroom door to leave, trying my hardest to remember who the woman was that we were going to meet for lunch. Maybe I should have paid a little bit more attention when he had mentioned it instead of just agreeing because I didn't really feel like I had a choice in the matter. There was no backing out of this now, though.

To my surprise, Mr. Hemmings was stood right outside of my door when I opened it, causing me to jump slightly. I guess some part of me had just expected that he'd be waiting downstairs, so he had caught me off guard. His eyes, which had been cast down towards the floor before I opened the door, snapped up to me when I stepped out and flicked off the light in my bedroom as I left.

"You look nice." He said to me, his gaze drifting up and down the length of my body for what I thought was far longer than necessary. Still, I didn't have the guts to comment on it and instead just left it alone.

"S-So, who is it we're going to meet again?" I asked, fiddling with the strap on my purse as I peered up at him. He met my gaze and I felt that usual bout of intimidation race through me from the way it felt to look him in the eyes, but unlike usual, I didn't look away or back down this time.

More comfortable. I have to get more comfortable. I'm a good worker. He's not going to fire me just for looking at him.

"Her name is Zandra." He answered, beginning to lead me down the hall so that we could leave. The two of us headed downstairs and out the front door, his frame towering above me as I stood patiently next to him on the porch while he locked the door. "Zandra works for another company. I'm actually meeting up with her today to discuss a business opportunity for us to work together." He explained, causing me to let out an "oh" of realization. So she didn't work for him.

"Why do I need to go, then?" I dared to ask, beginning to walk down the driveway with him. He and I got into his car, the engine rumbling to life a moment after both our seatbelts were buckled. He had quite a nice car, not that there was really any surprise there.

Mr. Hemmings glanced my way as he began to drive, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. "Well, Zandra has a bit of an issue with being professional." He said vaguely, making me frown. Still not understanding, I cocked my head to the side. "But what do you expect me to do about that?" I asked dumbly, confused. He was much more professional and intimidating than I, so he had a much better chance at getting her to be more professional if that was what he wanted.