“What are you doing here?”

I haven’t seen Luther since breakfast. He’s been in his office since. I video called Keila immediately I left his office earlier. She looked very happy to see my new room and kept asking me when she can visit, I couldn’t break her little heart by telling her they don’t know I have a daughter and so I can’t bring her over, so instead, I told her she can come when she gets better enough to be discharged. She agreed. Hopefully, by then I would have earned enough for her surgery and would be out of here. I wasn’t going to tell her that though, the goal was to protect her precious heart from breaking.

We talked for a while before I let her go so she can take a nap. I took my own nap too almost immediately we ended the call.

When I woke up, I went to continue about my duties. I’m required to do Luther’s laundry and also clean his room. He’s anal about the positions of items in his room and how regularly it should be cleaned so I’m expected to make his expectations.

He’s still working so this would be the best time to go get his laundry.

I enter his overly large room for the first time and I’m surprised by how neat it is. Brown and gold highlight the room, with a few red undertones. His bed is made and all the materials on the furniture are well arranged. There’s a door at each opposite end of his room.

I came here to get his laundry but I’m curious.

I go into the first door and I find his walk in closest that’s large enough to fit my entire apartment. There are more suits than every single piece of garment in my apartment and more clothes than I’ve seen in any boutique. There are almost fifty shoes, I don’t see why he has that many and they all look the same to me but I guess that’s what you do when you have more money than a president. Just how rich is he.

His casual clothes span across an entire wall. Both the t-shirts and the pants have separate sections and are arranged by color, m even the hangers are assigned according to the color of the shirt they hold. Just wow.

I suddenly remember that I’m required to organize his closet too and I shiver, dreading the moment I’d have to deal with so many clothes.

Just when I’m about to leave, I see another door that’s almost hidden behind his row of shoes. The door is smaller than the typical ones used in the house and again, I’m curious.

I take two steps towards it before in startled by a voice.

“What are you doing here?”

I jump up and turn around with a hand to my heart to see Luther looking down at me. He doesn’t look impressed.

“Uh hi”, I blurt out stupidly. I need to stop letting my curiosity win all the time before it gets me in trouble.

“You haven’t answered my question”.

“I came to get your laundry”

“Bathroom’s that way”, he says, pointing a thumb behind him. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here”

He emphasizes ‘here’ and I know he’s asking me what I’m doing in the closet instead of in the bathroom.

“I got lost. I didn’t know which was the bathroom”, I lie.

“I’ve been watching you for the past ten seconds, Miss Richards. I’m sure that must have been enough time for you to figure out that here is not infact the bathroom”

I clear my throat, caught in my lie and trying to buy time to think of a fitting answer.

“Well , true, I came in here because I didn’t know which was which, but the only reason I wasted time in here is because I wanted to have a look for myself”

He raises a brow, not sure what I’m talking about.

“The job description states that I’m required to organize the closet. Wanted to see what I’ll be working with”

I inwardly high five myself for coming up with such a good lie on the spot. Luther however, looks like he knows I’m lying but chooses not to dwell on it.

He holds the door handle.

“Go get the laundry”, he orders and I immediately walk out of the closet as he shuts it behind me. I make my way towards the opposite door and Luther trails behind me, much to my dismay. He’s close and I hate it when he’s around me. It reminds me of how tall and intimidating he looks, the

pure power he emits. His cologne though, I could slather myself in the smell of him.

I walk into the bathroom and notice how surprisingly neat the entire room is. I’m used to the constant state of untidiness that my bathroom at the apartment is always in. Thanks to Louis who always tosses things around, his cosmetics and toothbrush are always left in questionable places and his clothes and towel are always somewhere on the floor.

However, Luther’s bathroom is beyond neat, with his laundry kept in a gray basket in a corner. I’m amazed at how neat he is. I’m used to disorganized men and was already building the thought that men are always unkept. Luther feels like a breath of fresh air compared to all the disorderly men I’ve ever known.

“Richards, the laundry is right there”. He points me to the basket, like I didn’t see it. I pick it up and walk away meekly, closing his bedroom door quietly behind me. He doesn’t follow me out.

I finish up the laundry in record time then I iron the clothes before returning to place them in his room. I’m surprised to find that he’s still in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed as he types away on his phone screen. I ignore him as I make my way into his closet.

He stands up to follow me and I start shivering again all of a sudden. Why does he have to make me so uncomfortable.

I place the shirts in the rightful drawers before moving on to the t-shirts and polo shirts. The first is black polo which I put in a black hanger and place behind the black t-shirts. Next is a cream shirt. I pick up a cream hanger.

“Wrong”, Luther says almost immediately I touch it. I flinch before picking up another hanger that looks a little more yellow.

“Wrong”, he says again, standing at the doorway and choosing not to tell me exactly which of his bloody hangers is the right one. They all look the same to me.

I pick up another one that looks just like the last two and when he doesn’t comment this time, fix the t-shirt on it.

I go to place it next to the other cream shirts.

“Arrange by color, Richards”

I swallow, inhaling deeply and running out of patience. I go behind in the color scale and I’m about to place it before yellow when he comments again.

“By color, Richards”

“Jesus Christ, they all look the freaking same. Why don’t you put it yourself!”

I’m breathing deeply, angry but also scared of the repercussions of my actions. I’m not supposed to shout at my boss, but I can’t exactly rein in my anger when he’s being so annoying difficult.

Thankfully, he doesn’t respond to my burst of anger. He just walks towards me and takes the cloth out of my hands, placing it between shirts that look the bloody same to me.

“That’s cream”, he says, pointing to the first place I tried to place the shirt in. “The shirt is cream”, I reply.

“It’s beige”, he says matter-of-factly. My mouth gapes open like an actual fish. They’re literally the same color. Don’t tell me he’s extremely particular about every single color. I turn away from him, annoyed and hoping he leaves so I can arrange the clothes without him telling me a shirt is funeral black and not macaron black.

I’m on the fifth shirt when, I kid you not, he tells me the shirt is juniper, and not moss green as I thought. I’m on the almost scream in frustration because I swear they look the fucking same. I don’t punch a hole into his face like I want to, instead, I patiently arrange the shirts while putting up with his ridiculousness.

By the end of the session, I’m frustrated enough and almost driven to tears.