My Love Or Job

It had been four hours sin

lling the duvet up to my chest.

he golden globe door kno

be set in 35 min

d around immediately to leave an

ugh for me to see her face. “Grace,”

nto a museum of invaluable potteries that could crumble to powder if she dared to be anything but professional. I couldn’t take it that anyone could be that su

o escape conversations that would make her sing like a bird — even though the indifference in her dark eyes and the permanent f

and not wanting to be found doing otherwise. Her disguise wasn’t foolproof, I could tell. She hid behind a beanie mask that was so close to snagging apart from all the threads of fear han

had kept on top of it. Unzipping the backpack, I took out my laptop, the new notepad that I had got for this assignm

sm at Snow’s residence as a housekeeper, I reached for my phone and unlocked it. The ti

t my thighs. Of course, this was Molly’s idea. She had parted with ninety-four dollars just to get me this dress. The catch was that I should be in it when I meet Snow for the first time. Yeah, Molly was all about first impressions and since I grumbled bitterly about this assignment, she had cajoled me into taking the dress as

gures of seated people. The closer I got, the more detailed those figures got and the higher the

e cushions and white metal frames. Seated around the glass-topped table were five women and a man. I was almost on the patio before I was spotted by one of the women, who paused mid-sentence, our eyes