The Housemaid: An absolutely addictive psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist
The Housemaid: Part 1 – Chapter 27

Needless to say, we don’t get two separate rooms at The Plaza.

So yes, I slept with my married boss.

After he kissed me in the taxi, there was no going back. We were basically ripping each other’s clothing off at that point. It was all we could do to keep our hands off each other while Andrew was checking us into our room. We made out in the elevator like a couple of teenagers.

And then when we got to the room, there was no chance of trying to be good or trying to slow things down for the sake of his marriage. I don’t know when the last time he had sex was, but for me, it’s been so long, I was afraid he was going to have to clear away cobwebs. There was no way I wasn’t doing this. I even had a few condoms in my purse from when I thought things might happen with Enzo.

And it was good. No, more than good. It was freaking amazing. Just what I needed.

The sun has just come up in the giant picture window overlooking the city. I’m lying in my decadent Plaza hotel queen-size bed, and Andrew is asleep next to me, softly blowing air through his lips with each breath. I think about what he did last night and shiver deliciously. Part of me wants to wake him up and see if he might want to go again. But the more realistic part of me knows it will never—can never—happen again.

I mean, Andrew is married. I’m his maid. Last night, he was drunk. It was a one-time thing.

But for a moment, I watch his handsome profile as he sleeps and allow myself to fantasize. Maybe he’ll wake up and decide he’s had enough of Nina and her bullshit. He’ll decide he loves me and he wants me to live with him in his gorgeous gated home. And then I can give him the baby he so badly wants, which Nina will never be able to do. I remember those obnoxious women at the PTA meeting, saying that Andrew and Nina have an airtight prenup. He could leave her and it wouldn’t even cost him that much money, although I’m sure he’ll be generous with her.

It’s stupid. It will never happen. If he knew the truth about me, he’d run a mile. But I can daydream.

Andrew groans and rubs the balls of his hands over his eyes. He rolls his head to the side and cracks his eyes open. I take it as a plus that he doesn’t look horrified when he sees me lying there. “Hey,” he says in a hoarse voice.

“Hey.”

He rubs his eyes again. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”

Aside from the sinking feeling in my chest, I’m great. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He tries to sit up in bed and fails. His head drops against the pillow. “I think I’m hungover. Christ, how much did we drink?”

He drank far more than I did. But I am more of a lightweight, so it hit me just as hard. “Two bottles of wine.”

“I…” His brow scrunches up. “Are we okay?”

“We’re fine.” I manage a smile. “Completely fine. I promise.”

He tries a second time to sit up, wincing at the pain in his head. But this time he makes it. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

I flinch at his apology. “Don’t worry about it.” My voice sounds clipped and I clear my throat. “I’ll go take a shower. We should probably head back home.”

“Yeah…” He heaves a sigh. “You won’t say anything to Nina, right? I mean, we were both really drunk and…”

Of course. That’s all he cares about. “I won’t.”

“Thanks. Thanks so much.”

I’m naked under the blankets, but I don’t want him to see me that way. I grab one of the sheets from the bed and wrap it around myself as I climb out of the bed and stumble in the direction of the bathroom. I can feel Andrew’s eyes on me, but I don’t turn to look at him. It’s humiliating.

“Millie?”

I still can’t look. “What?”

“I’m not sorry,” he says. “I had a great time with you last night, and I’m not sorry for any part of it. And I hope you’re not either.”

I venture a look at him. He is still in bed, the covers up to his waist, revealing his bare, muscular chest. “No, I’m not sorry at all.”

“But…” He heaves a sigh. “It can’t happen again. You know that, right?”

I nod. “Yes, I understand.”

A troubled expression comes over his face. He runs a hand through his dark hair to smooth it out. “I wish things could be different.”

“I know.”

“I wish I’d met you back when…”

He doesn’t have to complete his sentence. I know what he’s thinking. If only we had met back when he was still single. He could have walked into the bar where I was waiting tables, our eyes would have met, and when he asked me for my number, I would have given it to him. But that’s not the situation. He’s married. He’s a father. Nothing more can happen between the two of us.

“I know,” I say again.

He keeps his eyes on me, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s going to ask if he can join me in the shower. After all, we’ve already desecrated this hotel room. What’s one more time? But he behaves himself. He turns away from me, pulls up the covers, and I go take my cold shower.