Sinful Desires

Chapter 11

"N-no, it’s not, sir," I stammered, keeping my head bowed like I was on trial for high treason.

Mr. Dante scoffed. "You were cleaning empty rooms, and you didn’t think to clean mine first? Where the fuck is your head at?"

I gulped. "I-I’m sorry, sir."

Grabbing my cleaning supplies, I tried to make a quick escape, walking past them as fast as my legs could carry me.

"And where the hell do you think you’re going?" His voice snapped at my back, dripping with irritation.

I paused. Oh, for God’s sake, just let me leave in peace! "I’ll be back later, sir," I said as politely as possible. "I was just, um, trying to give you guys some privacy to do, uh…"

Mr. Dante turned sharply, his brows knitting together. "To do what?"

Great. Just great, Ayla. Remind me how you got into this situation again?

I blinked rapidly, scrambling for words.

"To do what, Ayla?" His voice was clipped, his patience clearly hanging by a thread.

"Uhmm… to d-do the deed," I stuttered, looking anywhere but at him.

The woman beside him let out a laugh, but one warning glance from Mr. Dante shut her up real quick.

His stormy gaze flicked back to me. "You’re not going anywhere, Ayla. Carry on with the cleaning."

I stared at him, stunned.

Was this man trying to give me a heart attack? What did he mean, carry on with the cleaning?

Was he seriously going to fuck her while I cleaned his room?!

My soul left my body.

"Sir, p-please, I can come back later," I pleaded, nearly hyperventilating. "You need your privacy, sir."

Mr. Dante smirked. "Well, you didn’t think about that before now, did you? Start cleaning. I want everywhere spotless."

Before I could even process my impending doom, he led the woman to the bed, slapped her ass so hard I flinched, and she giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Oh. Oh, no.

This was not happening.

She slipped off her heels and climbed onto the bed like she owned it. Meanwhile, he stood at the edge, slowly loosening his tie while looking at her like she was dessert.

I was going to die.

The room suddenly felt suffocating. My heart pounded in my ears.

Wake up, Ayla. This is just a nightmare. WAKE UP!

"Ayla," Mr. Dante’s voice sliced through my panic.

I snapped back to reality.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" he asked lazily, peeling off his suit jacket. "Start cleaning. Now."

And just like that, he climbed onto the bed and started kissing her. Right in front of me.

My eye twitched.

She moaned dramatically against his lips, arms wrapped around his neck like she was starring in her own personal soap opera.

Then he flipped her over, and she let out the most exaggerated, opera-worthy shriek.

"Oh, Damien, stop it!" she gasped breathlessly, straddling him.

Another loud SMACK echoed through the room as he slapped her ass again, and she wiggled in response, biting her lip.

Oh. My. God.

I could not watch this.

I forced myself to ignore them and started dusting the artwork on his grey walls, my back turned to their nonsense.

But that didn’t mean I couldn't hear them.

"Ohhh, Damien," she moaned. "I love how you know my sweet spot."

My soul left my body again.

Was he sucking her neck? Oh great, now my brain was supplying images I did not want.

A pang of something ugly twisted in my chest. Was it jealousy? Why would I be jealous? It wasn’t like I had ever—

A prickling sensation ran down my spine.

I turned my head slowly—only to catch Mr. Dante staring directly at me.

While kissing her neck.

My heart nearly stopped.

His lips curved into a slow, devilish smirk as he deliberately whispered something in her ear.

Then, still holding my gaze, he murmured, "Take off your clothes."

EXCUSE ME?!

The woman immediately obeyed, tugging at her dress like I wasn’t even in the damn room.

Oh. Oh, hell no.

Two could play this game.

I marched over to the bed, whistling a tune like I was completely unfazed.

Then, without hesitation, I reached out and started adjusting the pillows—the very ones he was lying on.

Both of them paused, staring at me like I’d grown three heads.

"What the hell are you doing, Ayla?" Mr. Dante’s voice was sharp.

I blinked at him innocently. "Arranging the pillowcase, sir."

He narrowed his eyes. "I am lying on the pillows, Ayla."

"Yes, sir, I noticed that." I nodded. "But I’m just carrying out my duties, like you asked."

His jaw tightened. "Can’t you see I’m busy?"

"Oh, I can see that, sir." I smiled sweetly. "Which is exactly why I need to change the sheets. Can you both please get up?"

Their brows furrowed in unison.

"The bed is already well arranged, Ayla," he said, voice laced with irritation.

"Not anymore, sir. You both are on it, and it’s clearly wrinkled now. Besides, I must change the sheets for your comfort."

The woman’s face twisted in outrage. "Are you nuts?! You must be delusional if you think I’m—"

"Get. Out."

The words were calm, deadly calm.

I froze.

Oh.

A slow grin crept onto my lips, finally.

"Gladly, sir!" I chirped, turning on my heel. "Please, carry on! I was never here—"

"Not you, Ayla."

I stopped.

Turned around.

My wide eyes met his.

A dark, intense look crossed his face as he stared me down. Then he turned to the woman, who was still perched on top of him, just as stunned as I was.

"Get out, Cassandra."

She gaped at him. "Excuse me?"

"I said, get out."

Her jaw dropped. "What do you mean I should get out? She should be the one leaving!" She threw a frantic hand in my direction.

"And my name is not Cassandra! It’s Amanda! How many times do I have to tell you my name, Damien?!"

I snorted.

Mr. Dante, however, looked completely unbothered.

"Doesn’t matter," he said flatly. "You’re leaving."

Amanda—Cassandra—whoever she was, let out an offended gasp.

I bit my lip, struggling hard not to laugh.