’A nail clipper?!’ Candy scread inside her head, pure rage boiling beneath her calm face.
She lowered her gaze to the small object on the floor.
Can you imagine? Asking her to clip his toes. She hadn’t even clipped her own nails for years—she had nail technicians for that. Yet here she was, being ordered by this monster to do it for him.
Was this how he planned to punish her now? By making her do silly, degrading, nonsensical things?
She bit hard on her lips, suppressing the anger threatening to explode.
"Boss... I... should... clip... your... toes?" she asked carefully, choosing each word like her life depended on it.
Raymond tilted his head slightly, studying her.
"Why does your tone sound like you’re suppressing whatever nonsense is going on in your small skull?" he asked calmly—yet danger laced every word.
Candy gulped and dropped her gaze imdiately.
"Boss, I will start now," she said, picking up the nail clipper.
Raymond had already lost interest, blowing invisible dust off his nails lazily.
Candy slowly reached out to touch his leg, hesitation shaking her hand.
"Is it going to bite you?"
Raymond’s voice made her jerk back instantly. She looked up at him, but he wasn’t even looking at her.
Candy glared and rolled her eyes.
Arrogant monster, she cursed inwardly.
"Be fast, mosquito. Don’t waste my fucking ti," he snapped, finally looking down at her.
Her heart skipped violently. She lowered her head at once.
She began clipping his perfectly shaped toes.
"If you cut and I see even a single drop of my blood," he said coldly, "it will result in a pool of yours."
Candy rolled her eyes again, head still lowered.
"Understood, Boss," she muttered.
The good girl in her begged her to stay calm, to endure.
The stubborn girl in her wanted to rebel—badly.
"I’m done, Boss," she sighed when she finished.
Raymond glanced down at her.
She was sweating profusely, as though she had climbed a mountain. She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead.
That didn’t escape Raymond’s notice.
Sweating just from clipping my toes? he thought. What will happen when she does a job that requires her mouth? She’s fragile.
Candy tried to stand, but her legs—numb from kneeling too long—gave out. She fell back hard on her butt.
"Ahhh!" a loud cry escaped her lips.
She imdiately covered her mouth, freezing as his cold silver eyes pierced into her.
She scrambled up at once and bowed deeply.
"I’m sorry, Boss," she whispered fearfully.
Raymond looked away, returning his attention to his phone. He blew a bubble with his gum and crossed his legs again.
Seeing he said nothing, Candy turned to leave.
Her fingers had just wrapped around the doorknob when—
"Who dismissed you?"
His cold voice stopped her instantly. She turned slowly.
"Get the lollipop on the table," he ordered. "And sit your ass on that stool beside it. You’ll leave when I ask you to."
Candy obeyed silently.
"Get my bubble gum."
She stood.
"Get my lollipop."
She stood again.
"Get a glass of water."
Again.
"Get a glass of tequila."
This continued—over and over—each ti she barely got a chance to sit before he sent her running again.
It finally stopped when Dickson arrived to inform him he had sowhere to go.
As Raymond stood up, he glanced at her.
"Go to my office and clean it. If I see a single speck of dirt," he said coldly, "I’ll turn your life into dirt."
Candy clenched her fists.
Right now, she felt like kicking his sexy handso face, plucking out his silver eyes—and shaving off every strand of his curly hair.
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