The Love Language of an Assassin

2

Somewhere in the house, music was playing, and Jesse wondered whether her mother was having an affair with the old rich Mr. Haugen. Andrea Bocelli’s voice echoed through the house and Jesse felt her nerves close to fraying. She admitted though, it was making her work a hell of a lot faster just out of pure desperation to leave the haunting music behind.

She had finished the kitchen, salon and office and was quickly going through the powder room. She had hot pink cleaning gloves on bearing her mother’s company logo on them and a toilet brush in hand. She heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs over head and realized Mya had been correct to suggest they would be swapping out floors as she tucked the toilet brush back into the kit. She gave the sink a good scrub and then opened the door.

She heard the office doors close and made a face as she started up the stairs, lugging the bin. Her mother shouldn’t still be carrying such heavy things all the time, but the woman was stubborn. Hell, she’d driven herself to the hospital while in the throes of appendicitis. There was no doubt her mom was strong but there was strong and there was stupidly stubborn, and her mother frequently bordered on the latter.

She stripped the bedding off the bed, changed out the linen with the fresh ones from the closet as instructed and put the dirty linen in the laundry chute. According to the list, he sent the linens out for laundering. She thought it weird but if the guy wanted to have his sheets dry cleaned, who was she to tell him how to spend his money.

She made the bed with the perfect corners her mother had taught her to do, aware she could probably bounce a quarter off them they were perfectly tight. She took pride in it, even though she knew it was silly. Knowing her mom would be proud she had done a good job made her smile.

She quickly dusted the room, making sure nothing was out of place and then made her way to the master bathroom. She stood with her jaw hanging open at the opulence of the room. It smelled as if he’d just showered in it and she was forced to acknowledge, whatever his body wash consisted of was delicious. It smelled of sandalwood and cloves, spicy and fragrant. She sniffed a bar of soap on the vanity and wondered how much something like it would cost. She’d have to ask Isabella. She was sure a product like this was on her man’s body.

“Who are you and what the hell are you doing?” a deep baritone voice caught her ear.

She looked up in surprise to see the singly tallest man she’d ever seen in her life. He was tall and lean, really tall. As tall as the actors the Skarsgard brothers, taller even. Blonde hair, blue eyes and exactly what she pictured a Norse God to look like, except clean shaven without the Viking beard. No wonder her mother liked this gig. She dropped the soap back in the dish. “Oh, hey, I’m Jesse – “

Before she could even finish her words, he was grabbing her by the arm and pulling her through the house.

“Dude, what the hell!” She yanked her arm trying to get away from his grip aware if she did too much and he told her mother, she’d have to explain to her mom why she’d flipped her client down a flight of stairs and killed him. “Let me go!”

He grabbed her again faster than she’d shaken her arm out. “I don’t know how the hell you got into my house, but you psychopaths are all the same,” he almost dragged her down the stairs.

It was clear he was indeed Mr. Haugen because he smelled like his soap, and he said it was his house, but she was still awestruck by his rage and his size. “Listen, buddy, I’m from the cleaning company.” She managed to get the words out just as he pulled the front door open.

He paused; his face taut with rage as he glared down at her.

Jesse was five foot seven and a half, the half was important to her, and not easily intimidated but he was definitely a foot taller than her. “Jesus Christ you’re tall.” She realized his rage was her get out of jail free card. She just needed to push a bit more.

One blonde eyebrow jacked up high in his forehead, “get out.”

“Can I at least have my bucket of cleaning supplies. Left it on the floor in your gargantuan bathroom. The size of it makes sense considering you’re Goliath and all. I mean, do you bruise your forehead a lot on doorways?” She squinted her eyes and looked for bruising on his face. “Do you understand English? Do you need me to speak Norwegian or Danish, Swedish? I mean obviously looking at you one of those languages must be your first language.”

He pulled the door open and shoved her through, “I have a specific company I use thus your ploy to sneak in using such tactics is asinine.”

“No tactics, Andre the Giant,” she mocked him now, irritated he was still manhandling her, and she couldn’t just kick him in the balls because he’d tell her mother. “My name is Jesse. Your cleaning lady asked me to cover for her today, she’s sick.”

He slammed the door shut and she shrugged. Rich men were insane. Especially gorgeous ones who appeared to be lacking social skills and basic communicative abilities. Her mother could sort it out. He didn’t allow her to explain and had pushed her through. She hadn’t wanted to come back anyway, and it worked out great for her. She got fired and didn’t even do anything wrong and she felt no sense of sadness over it. She almost danced down the stairs.

A car coming up the driveway came to a screeching halt in front of her, “what happened? You can’t be done yet?” Mya came out of the car carrying a tray of coffee and paper bags.

“Nope. He thinks I broke into his house and cleaned his toilets for what I’m assuming was to get his attention?” Jesse was laughing now at the absurdity of the situation. “Do people actually try s**t like this? I mean I know he’s wealthy and all, but like, do they clean his toilets to get to him?”

“He fired fourteen housekeepers before your mother. Even some older ladies apparently got it in their heads he would fall in love with them and take care of them forever. I’m so sorry. He was in the shower when I left but I thought I had time to get back to explain to him.,” Mya sighed. “I’ll go chat with him. We do need you to stay. I’ll make sure he understands you’re Fabiana’s daughter. I’m sure he’ll apologize and ask you to stay.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” she held up her arm and demonstrated the five bruises the size of fingerprints already starting on her bicep. “I’ve been manhandled enough. If he still wants to keep my mother’s company to do his cleaning, he can wait until she’s well and she’ll come back herself. I’m out.”

Just as she started to walk down the driveway the front door opened, and the bin of cleaning supplies was thrown out into the yard. “Yeah, I’m not picking it up,” she waved at Mya. “Mom can bill him for the missing products.”

“Torben,” Mya raced to him where he stood glaring at Jesse. “I’m glad I caught you. Mrs. Chavez had emergency surgery early this morning and she sent her daughter Jesse to take care of your house in her place,” Mya waved at Jesse who was already walking to the van.

Jesse could see his face as she pulled the driver’s door open, his eyes registering the vehicle and her getting into it and fought with great difficulty to keep the s**t-eating grin off hers. What a dickhead. She caught movement at the end of the driveway and then grinned widely at the woman jogging by. She let out an ear-piecing whistle slamming the door closed again as she hustled down the drive.

“Nice ass, Ruiz!”

Jesse laughed when Isabella looked up in confusion and then threw her head back and laughed before trotting in her direction meeting her halfway. Jesse laughed when they hugged tightly, rocking back and forth. Jesse wrinkled her nose, “you smell almost as bad as I do.”

“Went for a run to get away from Cam’s mother. I swear she’s normally great, but she has her panties so twisted right now over Portia being pregnant and unmarried. If I hear one more time how your brother defiled her only granddaughter, I’m going to move to the she-shed permanently.”

Jesse threw her head back roaring with laughter, “mom ragged on him this morning too. She had her appendix out this morning.”

“No,” Isabella paused, her eyes rounding in surprise, before stretching a bit, “is she alright?”

“She’s fine. They doped her up and she’s resting comfortably.”

Isabella looked at the cube van as realization hit her, “no, she isn’t making you cover her shifts?”

“Just this one,” Jesse knew if anyone would understand it was Isabella. They both had immigrant mothers who knew absolutely no boundaries where it came to their children, “but I just got fired. Freak thought I was cleaning his toilets to get into his bed.”

“Do people do that?” Isabella scrunched her nose.

“Apparently, before my saintly mother, he had fourteen different housekeepers. They all believed they were heroines in a romance novel, where the rich white guy saves the poor housekeeper from her slovenly lifestyle.”

“God damn, he’s taller than Gideon,” Isabella looked over Jesse’s shoulder, “and Gideon’s easily six five.”

Jesse saw the man approaching, “he lives in your neighborhood, and you’ve never met him?”

“Nope, we’re all f*****g assassins,” she whispered gleefully, “we tend to keep to ourselves.”

“Fair point,” Jesse chuckled, “I’d introduce you, but he literally carried me out the front door before introductions. We’re not on a first name basis.”

“I’m going to finish my run. Call me and we’ll do lunch.”

“I’m working in the offices this weekend,” Jesse spoke clearly knowing Isabella would catch her suggestion. “Will you be around?”

“You have a new project?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t mind an extra set of eyes on it.”

“I’m in. What time are you going in?”

“I’ll be there by eight.”

“See you then, Chavez. Tell your brother to marry my husband’s kid so my mother-in-law f***s off, please?” she called over her shoulder as she waved and started running again.

“Who was that?” the blonde man demanded to know.

“Isabella Ruiz-Torres. She lives a couple of streets over.”

“Cam Torres’ wife?”

“Yup.”

“How do you know her?”

“My brother knocked up her stepdaughter,” she turned away from him and started back up the driveway to the van. She couldn’t help the smirk when she saw the contents of the cleaning bin all neatly placed beside the door. At least he picked it up.

“Ms. Chavez, my personal assistant tells me I bruised your arm.”

“Yup,” she lifted the bin of products and tossed it on the seat. “My mom will not be happy.” She looked at him sideways, “did you know she’s a domestic abuse survivor, Mr. Haugen. She doesn’t tolerate women being manhandled. She even volunteers at a women’s shelter.”

“Ms. Chavez’ I’m deeply sorry for hurting you.”

“You bruised my skin, Mr. Haugen but I assure you, I’m uninjured.” She lifted laughing eyes at him.

“I’m trying to apologize but you’re being deliberately rude.” He huffed his chest in frustration, crossing and uncrossing his arms.

“Really?” she couldn’t help the bubble of laughter coming up from her chest at his discomfort. The man apparently didn’t apologize much, and he didn’t do it well either. “Dude, my mother had surgery this morning. Her appendix almost ruptured. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, I haven’t eaten in fifteen hours, and I am in desperate need of a shower. My morning has been spent listening to the opera and my nerves are officially frayed. I did not want to come here. My mother insisted. Now, you have given me an out.” At his surprised look she continued, “Once she sees these bruises on my arm, she will be more than willing to not only agree for me to leave, but for her to cancel your contract with her.” Her grin was decidedly wicked, “I believe you have a problem keeping cleaning staff Mr. Haugen. I will gladly pay out of pocket the difference between what you pay her and what she will earn with a different client.”

“As if you could afford it, Ms. Chavez,” he scoffed.

Her grin disappeared, “Mr. Haugen, are you insinuating because of my last name, the fact my skin isn’t porcelain white, or my mother is a cleaning lady, I’m incapable of earning a decent wage?”

“I’m merely suggesting, I pay your mother quite well, far beyond what others would pay her. You couldn’t just make the difference up. It is in your mother’s best interests if you don’t leave,” he suddenly appeared to think he had the upper hand. “If the contract gets cancelled, it’s likely to cause her financial hardship.”

“Why are all the white rich men assholes?” she asked nobody in particular as she climbed behind the steering wheel. “Mr. Haugen, just because I agreed to help my mother with her business doesn’t mean I’m her employee. I did this because she’s my mom and I’d take a bullet to the brain for her without question. Cleaning a toilet, as much as I hate the work, is honest work and I’m proud my mom runs her company, but I don’t work for her. This was a favor. The person she would normally have replace her is away, as I’m sure your PA explained to you. Now, if you don’t mind. I need to be at my job and it’s all the way back in Brooklyn.”

“Please reconsider, Ms. Chavez. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“But you did. First you accused me of being some freak who tried to get to you by pretending to be a cleaning lady, then you bruised my arm and then you made a bigoted remark about my earning capability. You are officially, as far as I’m concerned, the world’s biggest asshole,” she met his eyes seriously looking him up and down, “and if you didn’t get what I just said in English,” she switched to Norwegian and repeated the last four words before saying them again in Danish. “If you need to hear it in another language, just let me know. I can speak sixteen of them and am actively working on number seventeen.” As he blinked in surprise, she slammed the door, turned the key in the ignition, and drove down the driveway strangely simultaneously feeling smug and pissed off.