"Are you sure you don't want me to work tomorrow?"

Julian nodded, flashing Chevelle a dazzling smile. "Yes," he said. "Take the day off, Chevelle. You work too hard."

Yeah right, she thought.

If only he knew just how much of her time she spent lounging around doing nothing—even while she was supposed to be working.

As soon as Julian stepped foot out of his house, it became Chevelle's house. She put on her favorite music in the surround sound speakers, she changed out of that itchy ass maid's outfit, and she got a taste of what it was like to live life in this tax bracket. Took a dip in the jacuzzi, watched a movie in his home theater, even cooked a little bit of his wagyu beef if she was feeling frisky.

If Julian had noticed that Chevelle liked to help herself to the many luxuries of his home, he had never mentioned it. Chevelle figured that he didn't care. That this stuff was insignificant to him anyway. Or maybe, that he enjoyed knowing she found it all so opulent. Maybe, like with most wealthy men, it satisfied something deep within Julian to know how different their realities were. How much power he really held in his hands every time she entered his house.

Chevelle knew it too. She knew that Julian was involved in some questionable shit. She knew that she could walk into his house on any given day and not walk out. That nobody would come looking for her. Nobody would ask him any questions. And although she trusted him enough to believe that would never happen, the thought still remained lodged somewhere in the back of her mind at all times.

Chevelle wasn't sure if Julian knew she had entered this country illegally, but she assumed that he did. It was safer that way. She figured that after having worked for him for so long, he must've looked into her background at some point. He'd probably done it before she started working, because he was the one who suggested she be paid in cash, and she knew that wasn't normal for most jobs. He'd also never reported any of her earnings to the IRS and so she didn't have to pay any taxes on her income. It was a sweet deal, and although they never spoke of it, Chevelle hoped that Julian knew how grateful she was.

"Hm. It sounds like you just don't want me around for your little party," Chevelle joked.

Julian sighed, placing a hand on his heart. "Wow. You wound me, Chevelle. Do you really think so little of me?"

"Please," Chevelle laughed, bending down to pull out the tray of home fries from the oven. "Do you actually care what I think?"

Julian didn't respond, and so once Chevelle had set the tray down on the counter, she turned around to face him. He had a small frown resting between his brows and she matched it with one of her own, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at him.

"What?" she asked, her voice playful.

Julian gave Chevelle a pointed look, as if to say, 'you know exactly what.' And when Chevelle simply raised a curious brow at him, he spoke.

"You know I care," he said, looking at Chevelle intently. With the same gaze that had brought many a woman to their knees. In his voice was something electrifying—something that thrilled Chevelle.

She smiled, sauntering over to the dining table and setting Julian's breakfast down before him. She leaned forward on the table, very aware of the way her dress dipped around the bust, giving him a more than generous view.

"Do I?" she asked, meeting his gaze evenly.

Julian cocked his head to the side and Chevelle leaned in even closer, gazing up at him through her lashes. "You're a very mysterious man, Mr. Carter," she said. "What should I think?"

Julian kept his eyes on Chevelle's, but she could see right through him. The way he was trying so hard not to let his gaze shift. Not to let it fall.

Chevelle knew that she was being much more flirtatious than usual today. The lean over the table, the batted eyelashes, the sultry voice... She was fully aware of what she was doing, just as she was fully aware of the reason why she was doing it, and it had nothing to do with Julian.

It was about Abel.

It was about how much she missed him. How, even flirting with her boss was a welcome distraction from her thoughts. How it was nice to look at someone and be able to see that they wanted her. It was about how it breathed life into Chevelle to know that that this part of her was not yet dead. That she was still a sexual being even if Abel didn't want her. That, even if she couldn't take these little risks with the person who mattered most, she could still take them.

"I'd love to have you at the party," Julian finally said, an amused look in his eyes. "And I think you know that, Chevelle. But I thought we'd been over this before."

Chevelle pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes slightly before she stood up properly, nodded, and took a step back. "You're right," she said. "We have been over this. I'm sorry."

Julian shook his head. "No need to apologize," he said, eyeing Chevelle with a newfound interest. He took a moment to think over his words before finally asking, "Has...something changed?"

Chevelle knew exactly what he was referring to. That 'will they, won't they?' game the two of them had been playing ever since she started working for him three years ago.

When Chevelle first started this job, Julian was fresh out of a marriage. Chevelle never met the ex-wife, but she knew that woman must have been something because she had done a number on Julian.

Back when Chevelle met Julian, he was hollow. He was filled with the kind of empty that birthed a recklessness in him. Back then, he'd been tearing through women. Fucking as though his dick would fall off if he wasn't sticking it in someone at all times. Chevelle knew that something was deeply wrong—that Julian wasn't okay—but it wasn't her place to say anything, and so she never did.

Chevelle had been sure she and Julian would sleep with each other at some point or another. It had been inevitable. The way they spoke to each other, the way they looked at each other, the way they touched each other...it was too much. Too charged. But then it didn't happen. Days bled into weeks which bled into months and they still hadn't slept together, and eventually, Chevelle realized it was for the best. She not only grew to appreciate Julian as a person, but she also grew to really like her job. It paid amazingly and didn't require that much from her aside from basic household tasks that she could've done even in her sleep.

It was a dream job, and Chevelle probably wouldn't have remained in it for as long as she had if she and Julian had fucked all those years ago. That was just how these things went. Sex always complicated relationships—especially professional ones. And although Julian was very sexy, Chevelle also knew that she wasn't built for the kind of lifestyle he lived, so there wasn't much potential for any kind of relationship other than a professional one. And it wasn't worth risking for sex.

It was during her third month of working for Julian that he invited Chevelle for the first time to attend an event he was hosting in his home—and not as a worker; as his guest. This was back before they had answered the 'will they, won't they?' question. Back when they both still believed Julian would eventually bed her.

Chevelle was in his home gym, wiping down the equipment, when Julian entered the room quietly. She didn't realize he was in there until she felt a warm hand on the small of her back. He whispered the question in her ear and she turned around with a smile, not even having to think about it before she'd said yes. She'd been eager back then. A hand on his chin, a hand on his bicep, a hand on his chest. She'd felt no shame feeling for herself what he was working with, and Julian had been more than happy to show her. It wasn't until a few days later, when Chevelle saw the dress he'd bought for her for the event, that she was slapped back into reality.

Chevelle had just assumed she'd be wearing one of her own dresses to the get-together. She'd been narrowing down her choices for days. She was going for something classy yet fun, but then, two days before the event, she arrived at Julian's house and realized he'd made his own plans.

He had bought her a floor-length silk red gown that cost more than six months of Chevelle's rent. She couldn't pick her jaw up off of the floor as she looked at it. And all Julian could talk about was how much he looked forward to seeing her in it, the implied ending, of course, being how much he was looking forward to slipping her out of it. It was at that moment that something clicked for Chevelle. She couldn't do it. She made up some excuse about a family emergency and that was the end of it. Julian insisted that she keep the dress anyway, and of course she refused, but he wouldn't take no for an answer and so she kept it. But she still hasn't worn it to this day. She's yet to find the right occasion.

A few days after receiving the dress, when Chevelle went to the store to check its price and security followed her around the entire place even though it was only a single room boutique, she realized just how different her and Julian's lives were. She didn't want to have to change herself to fit in with a group of people that she probably wouldn't even like if she got to know. It just wasn't worth it. Especially because she already knew that no matter what she did—no matter what dresses she wore or what gifts Julian bought her—she would never fit in with people like him. And honestly, she was okay with that.

Ever since then, they'd been a little more professional with each other. Julian had invited Chevelle to another event, but she'd politely declined and he'd gotten the message. She was half-worried he would fire her once sex was no longer on the table, but he never did. And they still flirted of course, but when you have two virile adults who are both very attracted to each other, that's only to be expected.

Regardless, it stayed professional. They no longer touched each other—not even to shake hands. Chevelle had set that unofficial boundary one day and Julian had caught on quickly. He had never tried to break it.

I won't lie and say there were never any slip-ups here and there. Times where they ran into each other or simply forgot their 'no touching' rule, but for the most part, they respected it, and it was a good thing.

"No, nothing's changed," Chevelle said. She shook her head as she tried not to smile. "I guess I was just teasing you. You make it so easy, Mr. Carter."

Julian brought his coffee to his lips and Chevelle watched as a reluctant smirk spread across them. She grinned, happy that at least she'd made him smile. She was always worried she would overstep her bounds with some of the things she said, but Julian had never gotten upset at her for anything like that. He had a much better sense of humor than she'd initially expected him to.

And Julian just chuckled to himself. Chevelle did love a good tease, and he knew that better than most people. She'd been teasing him for the past three years, and as much as it sounded like something he should hate, he actually quite enjoyed it. He just found something about Chevelle so endearing. He wasn't sure exactly what; maybe it was her eyes and how expressive they were, or the way she spoke with that cute little accent, or maybe it was simply the fact that she was easy to talk to. Easy to be around. The fact that when she asked him questions, he wanted to answer them. He felt like she actually cared (even if she really didn't).

She just had this way of making the people around her feel important in a very personal, genuine way, and Julian didn't get that very often. Usually, the people around him made him feel important because they wanted something from him, and he could always see right through it. But with him, Chevelle was transparent. There wasn't anything to see through, because she always came as she was. So despite the fact that Julian was very attracted to her and would waste no time laying it down if she ever gave the word, he was fine playing their little game.

If nothing else, it added a little spice to his otherwise bleak life.

Julian laughed. "I swear, Chevelle. You're lucky I'm so fond of you," he said, taking a bite of his food.

"Oh, I know," Chevelle said, smiling sweetly. "How's your breakfast?"

"Delicious, as always," Julian said, shooting her one last wink.

And with what, Chevelle turned and left. She definitely enjoyed talking to Julian, but she never liked to spend too much time with him. She knew that part of the reason he was so fond of her was because of the allure. Because of all the things he didn't and would never know about her—and she wanted to keep that allure alive, lest he grow sick of her before she'd grown sick of this job.

She busied herself by taking inventory in his garage-sized pantry. She had been here for three years, but it still amazed her every time she entered it. It was big enough to house a family of ten, and instead, all it held was food. Food for one lonely man.

Chevelle kept an ear to the door, listening for when Julian left the house, and once she heard the front door close behind him, she re-emerged from the pantry, into Chevelle's House.

Aside from some questionable furniture choices, the house itself was beautiful. Much to Chevelle's tastes. It was more a mansion than a house, really, and despite all the years Chevelle had been working here, she still found new things in this house every day. Safes hidden behind paintings, entire wings of the house hidden behind bookshelves or under carpets.

She tried not to snoop too much since part of her was scared she would stumble across the wrong thing and end up dead the next day, but because of the nature of her work, the snooping was often inevitable. While organizing Julian's office, she would stumble across papers that were clearly not meant for her eyes. While rearranging the furniture in his music room, she found the entrance to an entire underground bunker. And a few months ago, while she was putting away his laundry, she found a pound of cocaine in Julian's dresser drawer. It was sandwiched between an Armani vest and some silk boxers.

That had honestly been the most shocking find of all. Chevelle was frozen in place for a while, unsure of what exactly to do. She kind of wanted to try some of his designer coke, but she was too scared he would notice some was missing.

Chevelle both was and wasn't surprised to have found that in his bedroom. She knew that Julian wasn't as into drugs as most men like him were, but he also hadn't been in the best mental state recently.

Ever since the child he was fucking left him nearly two years ago, Julian hadn't been himself. He'd been more irritable, less present in conversations, less kind to Chevelle. He'd also been drinking more, disappearing more, and apparently, doing drugs more.

And I say 'child,' not just because the girl was eighteen at the time she was seeing Mr. Carter, but because she acted like a child sometimes too.

Everyone knows you never answer a rich man's phone.

Anyway, Chevelle had never seen Julian grow attached to any of the women he had brought home since his divorce, but this girl had been different. Almost two years later and he was still hung up on her. He hadn't brought many women home since her. He had tried to at first, but it quickly fizzled out. Sex wasn't filling the void she left like it had with his past love.

After his barely legal romance ended, Julian had let himself go, and in turn, he let his house go as well. He had told Chevelle to stop coming in indefinitely, and naïvely, she had assumed that meant one or two weeks. She didn't bother looking for a new job at first because she assumed she'd get the call from Julian any day. That indefinite period ended up lasting over two months, and during that time, Chevelle was both out of work and out of money.

Thankfully, she had still been in school back then, and this was long before her attempted suicide, so she was still in her family's good graces. Her parents let her borrow some money to at least make her rent, and what they couldn't provide for her, Jared did. She picked up a few extra shifts at the shawarma spot across the street from her apartment, but with most of her time spent in school and the minimum wage she was being paid, it wasn't nearly enough to keep her afloat. Chevelle almost lost her apartment, and if Julian hadn't asked her to start work again before that third month was up, she would have.

Chevelle, of course, was grateful that she'd had people around to help keep her going, but she was also well aware that if something similar were to happen now, she'd be fucked.

If Julian suddenly decided to have her stop coming to his house, her parents definitely weren't going to send her money, and she no longer had a rich boyfriend she could rely on for at least the necessities. She needed options.

Haiti was an option, sure. And probably the most tempting one since there was no doubt she'd be able to find a job with her American degree, but there was also a part of her that felt like staying. Not long-term, but at least for a little while. Until she could be sure she'd made the right decision with Abel.

Leaving this country felt so absolute. Like the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. And what if their relationship wasn't yet dead? What if, by leaving, she would be the one that actually killed it?

It was weird, the way that she was still factoring Abel into decisions he knew nothing about. And for what? After the way she chased him off, did he even want her anymore? There was no way to be sure except to ask him, and that was the hardest part.

Chevelle couldn't stop thinking about how full of bullshit she was. How she'd told Abel that closure was unnecessary. That it was stupid of him to hope for it. She hadn't understood what it really meant to need closure back then, because she'd never really had a real breakup. Her first love had died on her, and her second love had left her for her sister. Of course she hadn't believed in closure, because what does closure even look like under those circumstances?

But with Abel...it was different. Not that he was her third love or anything, but fuck. She just couldn't get him out of her head. She couldn't move on without knowing for sure.

Just move on and live your life.

That's what she had told him way back when, and now that it was her turn to take her own advice, she couldn't. She just couldn't move on from him.

And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that maybe it would be worth it to go and speak to him. That maybe, making herself vulnerable—being honest about how she truly felt—wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Because she was just sitting here with all this hurt and regret, and what was that doing for her? Sure, she'd shielded her ego from more possible embarrassment, but what had she gained from it aside from some worry lines and a twisted gut?

Maybe it's all lies—all the shit about protecting yourself. All the shit people say about choices and second chances.

Maybe it was all a lie, because although Chevelle had 'protected herself,' was she really safe? Aside from even the physical—which she obviously was never safe in—was she really safe? Emotionally. Did locking Abel out of her heart really protect her from being hurt again? Did it better equip her to maneuver through the inevitable bumps of future relationships? Was Abel really being the selfish one in all of this?

This whole time, Chevelle had only been thinking of herself. She was making things that didn't even concern her about her. Maybe Abel had been telling the truth when he said he had missed her. Maybe he hadn't left because he didn't want Chevelle. Maybe, he'd just left because he had unfinished business with Avery. And couldn't those two things be true at the same time?

And sure, it could also be true that Chevelle didn't have to wait for him to finish his business. That she could simply forget him and move on. But it could also be true that she finds it within herself to forgive Abel for being human. To stop punishing him for the way other men had hurt her.

It could also be true that there was a reality out there where Chevelle listened to her heart when it told her to go to him.