Maid For Beckett Catching The Baseball Legend’s Heart novel Chapter 75

Chapter 75

-Andi-

Before Siobhan left the estate yesterday, she asked Beckett and me to sit on the patio while drinking our coffee. She wanted to take pictures of us for our social media accounts. Beckett and I were just talking about random things that afternoon, but I didn’t think Siobhan was the one who took the photo she uploaded on Beckett’s social media account. Those weren’t the clothes I was wearing yesterday, and she definitely didn’t take a photo of me in the kitchen.

The photo captured my side profile. I was wearing my worn–out AC/DC t–shirt, my hair was in a messy pull–up bun, and I was chopping onions and garlic on the countertop. The light coming from the kitchen window gave a soft glow to my face.

The photo wasn’t glaring by any means; in fact, I looked calm, and I didn’t know I could look that pretty. It was taken at an angle that made me look like I belonged in the kitchen, and I am happy with what I’m doing.

I have a good idea of who took the photo. Beckett. The only question was why he had taken a photo of me. It was a stolen shot sometime during my first week here. He made sure I knew he didn’t like my stay here, so this was honestly the most puzzling turn of events.

I was glad that I peeked at his account after we finished breakfast. I had just finished washing the dishes, and Beckett said he would be in his study.

I scrolled through the comments on his account. Most of them were really kind and nice, almost happy at seeing their baseball idol finally having a girl to light up his life. But once I stepped out of Beckett’s account, mixed emotions flooded the internet for Beckett’s newfound romance.

Some wondered who I was, and others connected me to the viral video from the stadium cafeteria. A few had mentioned Sloane’s name and still called me names, but I saw no comments about Carter’s interview anymore.

It’s funny how fast people moved on to the next topic to fill their dull time.

Siobhan said this will set the tone for our fake relationship, and I can see we are moving forward with her plan.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and went back to work. The sweat on my skin and the soreness of my muscles as I cleaned every nook and cranny of the estate grounded me. It kept my mind from overthinking things again.

For hours, I had forgotten that almost all of Beckett Hale’s fans know my name by now, that my life is not so simple

anymore.

Almost.

I was pulling out the ingredients for the lunch I am going to prepare for Beckett when the front door burst open so hard it rattled the glass panels. The three dogs perked up from the open French door where they were lounging. They don’t rush to fight off the intruder; they merely stare at the one who owns the stilettos, stabbing the pristine tiles.

The sound alone made my heart leap into my throat.

High heels clicked sharply against the floor, hurried and angry. I straightened slowly, frozen salmon in hand, and turned just in time to see a very angry Sloane storm in.

Her hair was glossy and perfectly styled in curls falling down her shoulder despite the fury rolling off her. She wore a body- hugging red dress that probably cost more than my salary. Her makeup was immaculate–sharp eyeliner, flushed cheeks, lips pressed into a furious red line. She looked like the kind of woman magazines put on the cover when they talk about power, influence, and beauty that commands a room.

She was breathtaking, even like this. Even when she was furious.

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10:53 am

Chapter 75

Her anger morphed into a venomous rage that detonated the moment she locked eyes with me

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“Oh,” she said, her voice deceptively calm and sultry. Then it sharpened into something cruel “You’re still here.” Her gaze fell on my apron and the food storage of salmon in my hand. “Playing house with my boyfriend?!”

I opened my mouth, unsure whether to greet her or explain or apologize, but I knew that whatever I said wouldn’t phase her

anger.

Sloane laughed a harsh, disbelieving sound. “You didn’t expect to see me, Maid?”

She stepped closer, heels clicking like gunshots. I instinctively took a step back, but the countertop blocked my path.

“Why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t Beckett throw you out into the dumpster yet?” she continued, eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. My vintage shirt, my worn–out shoes. My messy hair from all the cleaning I had done. I probably stink with sweat. “A maid playing house and pretending she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.”

“–“I wanted to defend myself, but no words would come out of my mouth. Just mere strangled sounds that don’t even form any meaning.

Her words were sharper than a freshly honed knife. “I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you in his room. You think you’re clever, huh? Worked as a maid to slip her way into my boyfriend’s life like some leech. So this was your plan all along, to trap him into marriage and secure your future?”

Those words were the same ones I had read online, but they hit differently when I heard it personally. Each sentence landed like a slap.

“I didn’t-“I tried again, but my tongue felt thick and useless.

She scoffed. “Didn’t what? Didn’t expect that it would blow up in your face? I honestly don’t understand where you’re getting the strength to stand here and look at me like you are the victim here.”

My chest tightened painfully. This was different. So much worse than comments on a screen. I can’t just turn her off or shut. her out. Her anger was live, and she’s physically breathing down my neck.

“You know what’s disgusting?” she went on. “Watching someone with nothing, thinking they deserve everything just because a powerful man showed them a little kindness.”

Sloane peeled off all the armour that I had wrapped myself in. She exposed every insecurity, fear I had ever told myself late at night about not belonging here.

I stood there, frozen like the salmon in the food container. I couldn’t defend myself because, partly, I know how bad this looks from a stranger’s point of view. Somehow, I felt guilty and responsible for everything that happened. My silence stretched, and her eyes narrowed.

“So now you’re ignoring me?” she snapped. “Say something, bitch!”

Her hand moved fast–too fast for me to react.

Pain exploded on my cheek as her hand landed with a smack. It stung, and it was hot. I felt the scrape of her long fake fingernails that scratched my cheek. The force was so strong that my head snapped to the side, and I dropped the frozen salmon on the floor.

Begrudgingly, I turned to stare at Sloane. Her smile was wicked, as if she had succeeded in crushing every part of me with that slap. She tipped her chin up, looking down at me as if I were a mere pebble beneath her shoe.

That was when I came back to myself. All the anger I had bottled up since yesterday exploded inside me.

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10:53 am

Chapter 75

My vision blurred, and when she lifted her hand to slap me again, I saw red. I didn’t slap her. No, she deserves more than that. I shoved so hard she staggered three steps backward. Then I sprinted towards her and buried my fingers in her beautiful hair. She screamed and lunged back at me. Her nails scratched my skin, but I don’t mind if I bleed to death

How dare this woman slap me? My mother wouldn’t even lay one finger on me, and she would hurt me? If it were a catfight that she wanted, I would gladly give it.

Fabric tore, skin scratched, and shrieks filled the kitchen. In the background, I hear the dogs barking and howling. At some point, we stumbled down and knocked over the barstools, and then we fell onto the floor.

“Get your hands off me!” she shrieked.

“You wanted this, bitch!” I yelled back, allowing my anger and humiliation to break free.

It was chaos–hands, hair, rage, days of unspoken resentment crashing together in a single, ugly moment.

“Enough!” Beckett’s voice cut through the room like thunder.

In the next second, he was holding me around my waist and pulling me up from straddling Sloane on the floor. I was thrashing like a fish out of water, but Beckett was stronger than me. Sloane was breathing heavily on the floor, her hair wild, cheeks red, and her makeup smudged.

“Andi, that’s enough,” he commanded, his voice weighted.

“Let me go!” I wailed. “She wanted this. I am just giving this crazy bitch a good fight!”

Sloane pulled herself up, legs shaking, cheek burning, as she glared at me. “I’m crazy? You were the one who attacked me like a wild animal! I will fucking sue you!” She yelled at me, but she didn’t come at me again. I see it, the fear in her eyes. She had everything to lose because I swear I will break her nose and leave a mark on her face that she would need surgery to fix

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Beckett was still holding me at the waist. My hands were trembling, and my breath came in short, uneven gasps. “Yeah? You came here and insulted me; now you wanna go crying to your lawyer?” I spat. “I didn’t know you were a crybaby and a sore loser.”

Sloane looked stunned; her perfect composure finally cracked. What did she expect? I will beg her not to sue me? She can sue my ass if she wants; I don’t give a shit.

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