To Be Yours Again

Chapter 153: Chapter 153 Her employer The aroma of evergreen and sandalwood lingers in his bathroom. It’s a pleasant, masculine scent. She takes a moment to inhale deeply and savor it like she did before. His striking eyes come to mind...and his broad shoulders...and flat belly. She sprays the bathroom mirror with Windolene and rubs energetically. Stop! Stop! Stop! He’s her employer, and he would never be interested in her. After all, she’s just his cleaner. Her last job in his bedroom is to empty the trash. To her disbelief she finds the basket empty. There are no used condoms. She places it back beside his nightstand, and for some inexplicable reason the empty basket makes her smile. Gathering up the laundry and her cleaning materials, she gazes for a moment at the two monochrome photographs on the wall. Both are nudes. In one a woman is kneeling, her skin pale and translucent. The soles of her feet, her behind, and the graceful curve of her back are all visible, and she holds her blond hair piled up on her head; a few stray tresses kiss her neck. The model, from this angle anyway, is beautiful. The second photograph is a close-up and shows the contour of a woman’s neck, her hair swept aside, and the arch of her spine from the first few vertebrae down to her backside. Her ebony skin is luminous, caressed by the light. She’s stunning. Danica sighs. Judging by these photographs, he must like women, and she wonders if he is the photographer. Maybe one day he might take her photograph. She shakes her head at her fanciful thoughts and returns to the kitchen to tackle the chaos of take-away boxes, empty beer bottles, and washing-up. Of the three kitchens Danica cleans, this is her favorite. The wall, base cupboards and worktops are made of pale blue glass that is easy to wipe down. It’s sleek and uncluttered, so different from the haphazard rural kitchen of the orphanage home. She checks the oven, just in case the Boss has baked something, but she finds it’s still pristine. Danica suspects it has never been used. She is drying the last plate when the music begins. She stops, recognizing the melody immediately. It’s from the manuscript she’s seen so many times on his piano, but the melody goes further than she’s read, the notes soft and sad, falling in mournful blues and grays around her. This she has to see. With quiet care she places the plate on the worktop and sneaks out of the kitchen toward the living room. She peers in and sees him at the piano. Eyes closed, he’s feeling the music, every note expressed on his face. As she watches him, his brow furrowed, head tilted, lips parted, he takes her breath away. She’s captivated. By him.