Ellie didn’t flinch. She just smiled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Good morning, Mr. Ashford. The ‘to-do’ pile is in rainbow order. Red is urgent. Lavender is for things that can wait until you’ve had coffee.”
Their relationship was a series of small, domestic battles.
Leo Ashford had three problems. First, the manor’s roof was leaking. Second, the accounts were a disaster. Third—and most pressingly—a small, chirpy woman in a starched white apron had just organized his desk.
“The agency doesn’t cover romance, sir.” Sex Associates - Cute naive Hotel Maid was Tric...
Leo spilled ink on a contract. Before he could curse, Ellie was there, dabbing it with salt. “You’re supposed to use a blotter, sir, not your sleeve,” she said, her fingers brushing his. He felt a ridiculous jolt. She smelled like lemon polish and vanilla.
Leo rubbed his temples. His father had hired a temp from a “Premium Associates” agency. But this wasn’t a maid. This was a tiny, uniformed hurricane. She dusted his bookshelves while humming pop songs. She left cups of tea with a single, perfect biscuit balanced on the saucer. And worst of all, she kept calling him “sir” in a tone that felt suspiciously like teasing.
Ashford Manor, a sprawling but slightly faded estate in the English countryside. Ellie didn’t flinch
Leo stared. “You… you did my job?”
Fin.
“Good,” he replied, and kissed her.
The Silver Bell and the Stubborn Heir
Leo framed it and hung it in the kitchen.
That night, they stood in the empty ballroom. Moonlight poured through the tall windows, turning the dust motes into falling stars. Ellie was supposed to leave—her temp contract was up. Ashford
“I don’t need a maid,” Leo said, stepping closer. “I need an associate.”
The manor’s bank called. Leo was out of money. He would have to sell the estate. He told her to pack his things, his voice hollow. “You’re fired, Ellie. The agency will send your final check.”