Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 80

I met her gaze. To say Charity was attractive would sell her short. Charity was drop-dead gorgeous. Those big, dark, almond-shaped eyes, pouty lips, and tight, compact frame screamed at my primal instincts. She had Shea’s warmth and a touch of that sensual, subtle gothic style Erin wielded like a scalpel. If Charity didn’t turn you on, you either had no interest in women or you’d been dead three days.

“What are you getting at?” I asked, feeling defensive again.

“Mr. Upton,” Emiko said. “As I said, I am not here to judge you. I am trying to understand how your household works. Has Erin fully informed you of my job de***********ion?”

“She filled me in a little… said you would be in charge of running the household.”

“Our intention was for me to manage your home. All of it.”

That word “all” did a lot of heavy lifting. She meant everything. How exactly would that work? Did I want something like that? Why hadn’t Erin been more forthcoming on the specifics of what she was hiring Emiko to do?

“What does that look like?” I asked.

“It looks exactly how you want it to look,” Emiko said. “If you’d like, I can merely manage parties, keep your apartment stocked, and make sure your properties stay tidy and ready for you. In that case, I believe you would not be taking full advantage of what I have to offer.”

“Which is?”

“I have spent years teaching men and women how to serve their customers and employers. Not only that, but I managed their service after their education was complete. When someone needed correction, I disciplined. When someone needed guidance, I acted as their north star.”

“If you wish to entrust me with that sort of responsibility in your household… to not only manage your house, but your staff—”

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. “—the women who live here. Who serve you…”

She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t have to.

My mind filled in the word she was too tactful to say.

Harem.

That word came with baggage.

Emily had said it once, during a conversation I hadn’t enjoyed. Natalie had implied it. Danni had begged to be part of it.

I wasn’t sure I liked it.

But Emiko was right—call a spade a spade.

“Yes,” I finally said. “I hired her because she’s gorgeous. I… also went down on her.”

That confession had been more than a simple admission. It had been an agreement. I was interested in what Emiko was offering. I didn’t know what that looked like, but Emiko had impressed me beyond what I thought was possible. On top of that, Erin had been involved in hiring her and clearly had some kind of intention for this particular set of skills. If I couldn’t trust Erin, who the fuck could I trust?

It was obvious that Emiko had also taken my words as consent for her to step into this part of my world. I could literally see her making mental notes. She leaned forward a little more, her gaze growing so intense that I almost had to look away. “I promise you complete confidence. Whatever you say to me will not be spoken of to anyone else.”

And I believed her. “Okay,” I said softly.

“Camille was also hired by Erin, correct?” Emiko continued as if that brief oath hadn’t just transpired.

“Yes,” I said.

“Does Erin communicate exactly why she hires the staff?”

“Obviously not clearly enough,” I said.

Emiko looked up at me and let out a laugh. It was rich and unrestrained.

And God, she was beautiful.

“I think she’s setting up different scenarios,” I said. “We haven’t talked about it, but my personal trainer, Tara… she’s a lesbian. There might be some bicurious tendencies there, but I’m not sure. Erin’s playing power games with her, though… through me.”

“I didn’t know that,” Emiko said, making another mental note. “And Camille?”

“All I know is she’s coming on strong, for an engaged woman.”

“I suspect she and Mr. Wiggen have some kind of open arrangement,” Emiko said. “I don’t know the details.”

“Yeah. That was what I was afraid of,” I sighed.

She looked up at me. “You’re not interested in her?”

“Oh, she’s beautiful, but the idea of fucking someone else’s fiance feels wrong.”

Emiko nodded once. “What about Bobbi?”

“Helen has her,” I said.

She studied me for several long beats, holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth..

“She’s done a phenomenal job with Bobbi,” I explained, “and Bobbi trusts her. I like the dynamic there and don’t want that to change. Just don’t worry about her.”

Emiko didn’t immediately respond. She just watched me, chin propped in her palm, tapping a finger against her lips—very pretty lips, by the way.

“Very well,” she said at last. “I’ll defer—for now. But clarity benefits everyone, Mr. Upton.”

Then, without pause, she changed the subject again. “Are you happy with Mrs. VanCamp’s service?”

The fact that she even asked that felt wrong. “What? Yes.”

There was that one blemish early on when she tried to manipulate me and spy on me for Roger, but that was water under the bridge. Helen was mine now.

“Good. I think she might be the most loyal person on your staff.”

“What makes you say that?”

“My assessment,” Emiko said, “and the egg incident… very clever, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I said sheepishly, remembering how I called it a stupid idea. “I wish I could take credit for it, but that was Chloe.”

“The bodyguard,” Emiko said. “Have you two been intimate?”

“No,” I said before the question died on Emiko’s lips. She didn’t react… simply stared.

And I felt like she was looking directly into my soul.

“Good,” she finally said. “Intimacy between a bodyguard and her charge is a recipe for disaster. I have never seen it end well.”

Not only was she staring into my soul. She was dumping an entire canister of Morton salt into a gaping wound.

“Are we done here?” I asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

Emiko didn’t seem bothered by my tonal shift. “Have I said something offensive?”

“No,” I said, reining it in. I didn’t want Chloe murdering me in my sleep because the new girl found out about our dalliance within the first hour of meeting me. “Sorry. I’m just… it’s been a long week.”

“I fully understand. We can pick this up another time.”

“Where are you staying?” I asked.

“I have the bedroom next to yours so I can more easily meet your needs.”

“Meet my needs?”

“Yes,” Emiko said, standing. “In case you require something after you’ve retired for the evening.”

“Wouldn’t I get Jessica or Erin to do that?”

“Unless they were otherwise occupied,” Emiko said. Her sly smile suggested what they could be occupied with.

“Think of me,” she continued, “as the personification of your home. I am here to serve you and make this your sanctuary… to provide for your every need and anticipate them as much as possible. In some ways, I am comparable to a smart home.”

“I understand that getting to know me and sharing your habits, rituals, and desires can make you feel vulnerable, but I am not here to implicate. I am here to facilitate.”

I nodded, feeling marginally better about her questions.

“We should do this again,” Emiko said. “But after you’ve had some time to rest and grow accustomed to my presence.”

“That sounds good,” I said, standing up.

Emiko raised her hand. “Please. There’s no need. I will see myself out.”

“Alright then. Would you mind sending Helen in? I need to talk to her.”

Emiko nodded once. “Of course.”

As she turned to go, another thought struck me. “Emiko?”

She paused halfway to the door. “Sir?”

“Do you have a family?”

“I do not. I choose to remain unattached to better serve.”

Her answer was composed. Her eyes were not. The way she held my gaze, tilted her head—it thickened the air and sped my heartbeat without asking permission.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Of course,” she said with a slight bow of her head. “Thank you. I’ll send in Mrs. VanCamp.”

She closed the door behind her with a silence that felt… intentional. Like punctuation on something I hadn’t realized was a declaration.

She was one of the most unique, intriguing women I’d ever met. The way she saw everything—peeled back my barriers like they were nothing.

The way I found myself wanting her approval… without needing it.

Part of me wanted to send her packing just to reclaim what I felt I’d lost.

But she’d been nothing but polite. Graceful. Unjudging.

The discomfort? That was all me.

No. Keeping her was the right move. She was brilliant at her job. If I felt naked under her gaze, maybe that was something I needed to train for. Mental resistance. Emotional conditioning. Just another kind of discipline.

Like what I did with Tara.

A soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” I called out.

It cracked open just enough for Helen to slip in. She closed it behind her, then crossed the room slowly, her gold-spun hair catching the warm light.

“Stop,” I said.

I rose and came around the desk. She halted on the rug, centered and still, waiting. Her eyes held that same fire.

God, I’d missed her.

But that wasn’t why I called her in.

I circled her slowly. Not meeting her gaze. Just drinking in the lines and curves of her body like I’d forgotten how they felt.

“Undress for me,” I said.

I stopped behind her, so close I could look down her blouse as she started unbuttoning it. Each release opened her just a little more—revealing soft skin and the swell of a lacy black bra I knew she’d chosen for me.

Good girl.

“The pants,” I murmured, brushing her hand aside as she reached for the clasp. “Leave the lingerie.”

Her eyes smoldered at the praise, pleased I’d noticed her care. She unfastened her pants, shimmied them over her hips, and let them fall. Bent to unstrap her heels. Stepped out of them. Lost three inches.

She stood straight again, back still to me. I stepped in. Wrapped one arm across her chest. Slid my hand up to her cheek. Pulled her against the growing ridge in my pants and pressed my lips to her ear.

“On your knees, baby girl.”

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To Be Continued..