Chapter 6

Clara's POV

"What are you doing in here!" Derek shouted.

Derek sneered at me, staring daggers into my soul with narrowed eyes. His face became crimson in an instant, which I saw.

He was totally nude! Beautifully nude, said a voice within my skull.

I squinted my eyes and looked away, hoping that maybe if I worked hard enough, I might suddenly vanish from this circumstance.

With my face against the wall and the water still pouring in, I was officially stuck. I lacked the courage to turn off the faucet.

The water then came to an end. That's when I realized it was time to confront him.

I turned to face him cautiously, my uniform now adhering to my body and my hair soaking wet.

I raised my gaze for a brief while before lowering it to the floor.

Now he had beautiful muscles, a naked chest, and his waist covered in a towel.

He continued to glare at me, so it's likely that his rage was growing.

I stood there with my hands clasped together like a schoolboy. Awaiting my sentence.

"What are you doing again?" he asked. His tone was more aggressive and demanding this time.

My mind went blank; I had no idea what to say or do.

I thought of all the possible outcomes this talk could go to, but none of them were favorable. The least of my concerns was that I would undoubtedly get fired; I knew he would destroy my meager reputation.

I was able to say, "I'm sorry, sir," at last.

That didn't sound very convincing with my head down. At least I should pull the carriage up to look at him; perhaps I might win him over with a little tact.

Or wait, is it because he dislikes it when others look him in the eye? I recalled all the horrifying tales Sandra and her companions had shared.

"Look me in the eye when I'm talking to you." He insisted.

Terrified, I glanced up and then down at the ground once more.

Was I fooled by this?

It seemed obvious that what Sandra and her friends had stated was accurate, so perhaps I was overanalyzing the situation.

"I sincerely apologize, sir. I was instructed to leave before you arrived and not to bother anyone." I hid when you came because I was afraid." I clarified.

His uncertainty had taken the place of his rage.

"What am I, some kind of monster that you have to ride from?" He inquired.

"Everyone finds you intimidating, sir," I said.

It had escaped me that I'd actually spoken it out. I couldn't tell if my clothing was soaked all over or if I was trembling because of terror.

I suppose I just caught a glimpse of his smile.

"What were you going to wait until I was asleep?" He remarked cynically.

That, I wanted to explain, was the idea.

"So, you couldn't have just left through the door like a normal person." He went on.

He was absolutely correct; I had just embarrassed myself to no end.

It would have been much easier to go then than it was to stay where I was.

But hold on, where was this discussion heading? Was he only stalling his impending termination of me?

"Please sir, I'm really sorry sir," I begged. "I didn't mean for any of that to happen." I was still rumbling.

Derek let out a sigh, moved aside, and left the restroom.

I was aware that he would most likely phone Marcus and demand that he fire me.

I trailed behind him with water as I exited the restroom.

Taking it off the counter, he dialed a number.

I pleaded, "Please sir, don't fire me."

"Are you genuinely aware of what you did? What if any other visitors were involved? Then, should I simply let you go?" He inquired.

He was right once more. However, it didn't matter how correct he was; I needed the job.

I assure you, sir, that nothing like this has ever occurred. I always give my all in my work, and I'm the finest employee they have here, if you may ask anyone." My eyes filled with tears. "My mother was sacked from her work after breaking her leg lately. My younger sister is dependent on me. We are in so much debt that I'm not even sure how we'll manage to pay it off." I cried.

By now, I was crying uncontrollably.

Now he was staring at me like a madman.

To be honest, I haven't had the opportunity to rant to anyone in a while. He was far more familiar with me than most people were.

His hands were clasped at his temples.

If he was this logical when inebriated, I can't fathom what kind of person he was when sober. I had nearly forgotten he was inebriated. What are the possibilities that he would forget any of this occurred, with him this inebriated?

"I'm having a headache right now because of you and your miserable life," he said, placing his palm on his forehead. "I need you to leave right now." He went on.

He let go of his phone.

Did he mention that he desired me to go? He made no mention of firing me.

No, I was misinterpreting; he most likely intended for me to go and never return. Stated differently, I lost my job.

"Please sir, don't fire me." I kept on pleading.

The water trickling from my damp hair had become indistinguishable from my tears.

With a groan, he left the bedroom.

I kept up my tail and followed him.

He had come past the living room, and I had halted in my tracks.

"Do I have to open the door for you to leave?" He exhaled.

"Please, sir," I said again. Please don't terminate me, I pleaded.

"I'm not firing you!" He yelled. "I just want you to get out so I can take a shower without thinking that a crazy woman is probably watching me," he said.

A grin spread across my face. I was able to maintain my job, despite my initial belief that it would be terminated.

I just stared at him, astonished, as he motioned toward the door.

Perhaps I had misinterpreted him entirely and he wasn't all that horrible after all.

He grasped the door handle and let the door open.

My heart was pounded by the guy at the door.

With his fisted hand, Waylen stood there. Angry, glaring at the two of us.

I looked at him, bewildered.

How did he enter this place? How did he get through all of that protection? How could he know my location?

There was so much that didn't make sense. When he stated he would come here, I didn't think he meant it.

Derek waited for me to go, then glanced at Waylen.

"I did not place an order for room service," Derek said, brushing Waylen off.

"Waylen," was the last thing I could muster.

Waylen looked at me, and I could see the rage rising in his eyes.

"I knew it was true," Waylen said, glancing at me and Tristin.

"Who are you?" Derek said something. "I didn't ask for any unwanted guests," he stated.

Waylen kept gazing at us.

He opened the door a bit and let himself in. Derek was so inebriated that he was unable to respond promptly.

This will definitely get me fired if the last event didn't.

"Waylen, what are you doing here?" So I did.

Trying to grip Waylen's arm so I could lead him out of the room, I moved in front of him.

He swiftly pushed my hand aside.

"You wanted all of this, is this why you left me?" It was Waylen. "This is why you left me, for this rich guy!" he screamed. "Clara, I assumed you were someone else. He continued in a whisper, "I fought the world for you when everyone said we wouldn't last because I was going out of my league.

Derek was just disoriented, hardly able to follow in his inebriated state.

"There's nothing going on here," I said.

That just made him more enraged.

Waylen cried out, "Don't try to fool me!" What? Have the two of you just stepped out of the shower, and did you make love?" He went on.

I looked at myself and realized I was completely wet. It must have been quite realistic for Derek to go about with a towel wrapped around his waist in this scenario.

"You know Clara, I waited for you even after you stated you weren't ready. I didn't believe it was because you two were having sex." He said.

"Trust me, if anything had happened between us her clothes would have been off by now," Derek said.

I gasped in surprise.

I want to believe that it was most likely simply the booze speaking.

And then the most surprising thing happened.

Waylen made a fist and then punched straight into Derek's face.

Derek was too late to respond.

I saw him plummet to the ground, his head striking the marble floor once more.

Grinning, Waylen loosened his grip to lessen the ache in his knuckles.

Derek was motionless as he lay on the ground.

"You killed him!" I shouted.