The Billionaire's Assistant
Date: 2015-09-11 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Interracial Romance; Contemporary
Description: Stressed Naomi is having one of those “Murphy’s Law” kind of days—everything that can go wrong is going horribly wrong. Traumatized by events from the night before, she ends up distracted at work—to the point that it gets her fired. Her continued distraction leads to more catastrophe as she almost smashes into a stranger as she hurries away—or is it a blessing in disguise? Noticing her distress, the handsome, wealthy-looking stranger offers her an attractive solution to her immediate needs: work for him as his personal assistant—no catch. Ha! She doesn’t believe him, but her desperation makes

The Billionaire’s Assistant

The Billionaire’s Proposition

Rose Francis

Contents

Synopsis

Copyright

MAILING LIST SIGNUP

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

BONUS STORY

About the Author

Also by Rose Francis

Synopsis

Stressed Naomi is having one of those “Murphy’s Law” kind of days—everything that can go wrong is going horribly wrong.

Traumatized by events from the night before, she ends up distracted at work—to the point that it gets her fired.

Her continued distraction leads to more catastrophe as she almost smashes into a stranger as she hurries away—or is it a blessing in disguise?

Noticing her distress, the handsome, wealthy-looking stranger offers her an attractive solution to her immediate needs: work for him as his personal assistant—no catch.

Ha! She doesn’t believe him, but her desperation makes her accept, and it isn’t long before she suspects he wants a whole lot more from her than getting his coffee!

She has been saving herself, but can she resist the hunk who saved her?

**BONUS**

FOR A LIMITED TIME, THE SECOND STORY IN THE SERIES HAS BEEN INCLUDED AT THE END!

SERVING THE BILLIONAIRE OFFICIALLY LAUNCHES AT THE END OF SEPTEMBER, BUT YOU GET 2-IN-1 NOW! :)

Copyright © 2015 by Rose Francis

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by PAPDesign.

Poison Arrow Publishing
http://poisonarrowpublishing.com

First Electronic Edition: September 2015

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Chapter 1

Naomi

Hot, smelly breath on her face slowly woke Naomi up, then the pressure on her body finally registered, jarring her wide awake.

Someone was on top of her.

She started struggling and two rough-skinned hands were immediately on her wrists, limiting her movement.

Just as she was about to scream, one large hand found its way to her mouth, muffling the beginning of it, so she bit it hard.

A hard slap stunned her for a few moments, giving her attacker time to reposition himself, and before she knew it, he had planted himself between her legs and started working on removing her panties.

“Jenna!” she screamed, now that her mouth was free, horror and fear merging into a blood-curdling sound, and soon she heard her roommate’s footsteps running toward her room.

Her light flicked on, and she caught a glimpse of Jenna’s horrified pale face before her green eyes snapped around the room as she looked around for the nearest viable weapon.

Then Jenna grabbed the nearest lamp and brought it down on the head of the strange man on top of her.

The man collapsed immediately, successfully knocked out cold, and Naomi shoved him off of her to the ground, breathing hard and fast as adrenaline continued to course through her.

The intruder had gotten so close!

“Call 911!” Jenna reminded her, and Naomi fumbled around for her phone to make the call.

Once the operator answered, she spilled the events of the past few minutes, begging them to send the cops soon; she didn’t know how long it would be before the guy regained consciousness.

But Jenna had her wits about her and was already working on makeshift restraints, tying one of the assailant’s arms to the foot of the bed using a piece of clothing, then working on the other.

“Not the best knots, but it’ll take some time for him to wriggle free if he wakes up before they get here.”

Naomi nodded, still stunned by what had just happened.

“Who the heck is he?” she demanded after a few heart-pounding moments, her blood rushing so hard and fast, she could almost hear it.

Then it dawned on her.

She stared at Jenna accusatorially. “Did you bring him home with you?”

Jenna shifted, looking guilty and sheepish.

“Yeah,” she said softly, then more firmly, she said, “Naomi, I would have never brought him home with me if I thought he’d do this. I’m so sorry! I don’t know what got into him. We had fallen asleep, and I was right there if he needed some more relief. I mean, damn—we did it twice!”

Naomi held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear any more of that right now. We’ll talk about this later, once he’s out of here.”

“Are you gonna try to get him charged?”

“Of course! He can’t get away with this! Who knows if he’s done this before? And if he gets away scot-free, he most certainly will try to do it again. He has to answer for this.”

“But do you think anything’ll happen?” Jenna asked.

Naomi suddenly realized her roommate’s eyes were glistening.

Then she remembered a possible reason why.

She was there when Jenna herself was assaulted by a new member of their group home, and nothing really came of it.

He got a slap on the wrist, even though he actually managed to get all the way inside Jenna, so as far as Jenna had always been concerned, he essentially got away with his crime.

“Nobody cares about us,” Jenna reminded her, snapping her back to the tense moment. “Even girls who get to go to college and have their parents behind them don’t get convictions sometimes. What chance do we have with no one to back us up? Especially now that we’re grown-ass women that people have no problem blaming for poor choices?”

“Okay, this sure as hell wasn’t my fault; I didn’t make the choice to bring him home.”

“No, I know—it’s mine. But we’re here together and…what if he gets mad if you keep pushing for him to get prosecuted or whatever?”

“Wait, you think I should just let it all go and hope he doesn’t try to come back here anyway?”

“Sort of! I mean, if he gets off easy, he won’t bother us again. But if you gun for him to pay and go through the court and all that stuff and he still gets away, he might want revenge.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Naomi said. “I can’t talk to you right now.”

A groan made them both jump, and they realized that the man was slowly waking up, but they also heard sirens in the distance.

The next hour was a blur—Naomi and Jenna gave their accounts to the cops, the stranger got taken away, and a detective left his card with them, promising to keep them updated.

By the time the night quieted back down, leaving her and Jenna alone, all Naomi could think about was possibly having to cover up dark circles from a restless night in addition to a mark on her face from her attacker’s slap.

She hoped she didn’t end up late to work again.

Naomi stayed in place, unable to return to her bedroom just yet, and watched Jenna go to the bathroom, then watched as she exited it and headed toward her room.

Just as she crossed the threshold of it, Naomi said, “Not so fast.”

It had been about fifteen minutes since the commotion had died down.

Naomi knew she should really just get to bed since, unlike Jenna, her shift started in the mornings, but she had no chance of sleeping if she didn’t say what was on her mind.

“This can’t happen again, Jen—you can’t have strangers spend the night here.”

Not looking at her, Jenna said, “Look, I know this was horrible, but what happened here could have happened anywhere—while you were walking to your car after a shift or even on the way to the library. Sometimes, regardless of how careful you are or what you do, shit just happens, and who knows that better than us? People bring strangers home all the time and it usually doesn’t work out like that.”

Finally, Jenna’s green eyes met hers again. “I’m sorry it happened this time, but I don’t think it’s fair for you to try to make some rule about my dating.”

“I’m not saying you have to change anything about who you ‘date’ or anything, Jenna! What I’m asking is perfectly reasonable. I got attacked by some stranger—a stranger you let in. I’m just saying we should make a rule not to bring strangers home. If you want to bone someone, just go to his place or take it in his car. I shouldn’t have to pay for your careless, slutty mistakes!”

Naomi regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth.

Jenna let out a dry chuckle.

“There you go again, all high and mighty. You think I don’t know you’ve been looking down on me since the day I started stripping?” She put on a ridiculous high-pitched, mocking voice. “Ooh, look at me! I’m a virgin. I’ll never have to strip. I’m gonna make something of myself despite everything. My sister’s adoptive parents are gonna regret not taking me too.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “You really think you’re better than me just because you haven’t started using your body to your advantage yet? And yes, I’m saying ‘yet’ because it’s probably just a matter of time. If you want to make any kind of money, that’s how girls like us do it. I’m telling you, while you’re still young and tight, you might as well let those assholes throw money at you.”

“I doubt I’ll end up like you, Jenna; I have a moral opposition to the whole thing.”

Jenna let out a nasty laugh. “Who cares? Your morals definitely don’t pay our bills with your minimum wage four or five shifts a week. You keep talking about getting your own place, but how the hell are you gonna do that making that kind of money? Do you have any idea how much money I make now? Remember how excited I was when I made two hundred dollars in one night? I make more than double that now, and I can get my own place with two or three bedrooms if I want. I’m doing you a favor. I paid the deposit and first and last so we could get this place, so who the hell are you to tell me what I can and cannot do here? As long as I’m paying the bulk, we’re going by my rules.”

Naomi’s shoulders drooped.

Jenna was right—what say did she really have?

“I really can’t believe you,” Jenna said, suddenly sounding really hurt. “You know we have no one—no one but each other. How dare you look down on me for doing whatever the fuck I have to do to survive? You know what? You probably wouldn’t make that much anyway—everyone prefers skinny and white.”

Naomi let the sting pass. She realized she had carelessly offended her friend, and now she was lashing out.

She and Jenna had lived together in a group home for three years and since then, they had been rooming together for two years in their current apartment.

Like Jenna said, she was doing her a favor while she tried to get her life together, so what alternative did she have?

She was stuck for now, but she had been saving up and was planning to give her thirty-day notice in a few months or so.

She just had to bide her time a little longer, and in the meantime, make sure her door was locked at night.

She had been waffling about moving out for a while, postponing thinking about the logistics—especially since it was out of the range of affordability—but tonight it was clear: she had to move out as soon as possible.

Long before tonight she knew she had to leave sooner than later—the day Jenna mentioned she was considering leaving the stripper world to try to become a porn star, Naomi got a sinking feeling that a part of her life was coming to an end.

They had both worked at fast food restaurants until Jenna decided she wanted more money faster and became a stripper, and Naomi figured she could live with that. But porn?

Naomi had never said it out loud, but all she could think was that she couldn’t room or be friends with a potential porn star. She worried about various things—including the fact Jenna might earn a crazy fan who might track her down to their home.

Naomi had tried to talk her out of the whole thing, but all Jenna had said was, “Look I do it with dudes all the time, and sometimes, I don’t even get to come. Might as well get paid for doing it!”

“But there’s an obvious difference—you don’t usually broadcast your…sessions for the world to see. Do you?”

“No, but I might as well just embrace this totally natural thing. It’s just my cunt, after all; I’m happy to be paid for owning it.”

“It’s more than that!”

Naomi had always felt it was more sacred, hence her virginity.

She also knew there was no arguing with Jenna, especially since she had no experience to speak from, so she never brought it up again.

She would simply plan to get her own place sooner.

And now, with tonight’s horrifying incident and Jenna’s almost casual response to it, she knew it was time. One way or another, as much as she hated the thought of leaving her closest friend, she had to find her own place.

After a moment, she said quietly, “Just so you know, I’m going to try to leave here as soon as possible.”

“Oh really? Let me guess—you think your sister will magically reappear out of the blue and be some kind of knight in shining armor, helping you get on your feet. Then you guys’ll go prancing off, arms linked as you embark on rebuilding your sister relationship.” She let out a derisive chortle. “You really think she’s out there waiting for your tearful reunion? What a joke.”

Naomi stayed silent.

Jenna studied her face for a moment then said, “Oh my god—you really think that’s gonna happen! You think you guys will find each other again and everything will be right! Get a grip, Naomi—I mean, your name’s the same, you’ve lived in the same general area your whole life, there’s Facebook, Google, and after all this time, she still hasn’t come looking for you. It’s been over ten years! Sure, you were nine when you got separated, but she’s a grown-ass woman now—no excuse. ”

Jenna was right—she was still pretty easy to track down if anyone wanted to find her.

Was her sister even still alive?

Naomi figured her name probably got changed—both first and last, perhaps—since she never found any online hits for her.

She decided to redouble her efforts soon, her determination to track her sister down fortifying.

Jenna shook her head at her.

“Man, I can’t believe you’ve just been waiting all this time to leave me behind. I really thought we were like family, considering everything we’ve been through together. Shit, I fucking perm your hair! Every two months I’m there putting that nasty shit in it to make it all straight, and at the first opportunity you’re gonna pretend like we’re nothing to each other just because you don’t approve of my career.”

“It’s not just that, Jenna. Like you said, we’re grown-ass women, and grown-ass women need their own space. I love you, Jen, but I’m getting out of here.”

Jenna’s face twisted and she stormed into her room, slamming her door behind her and leaving Naomi to drift back to hers to finally try to squeeze in some sleep before her early morning café shift.

Chapter 2

Kevin

Kevin leaned back in his large, black executive chair and smiled wide as his cousin entered his office.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he said as he put his pen down, getting up to greet him with a hug.

They embraced quickly, and Kevin returned to his chair while his cousin grabbed a seat from the side to sit in front of him.

Michael looked healthy and handsome as usual, his easy smile in place, blue eyes sparkling with good humor, dark hair immaculate. He looked every bit the billion-dollar tycoon he was.

The two of them were often mistaken for brothers—they had similar builds and thick, dark hair, though Kevin’s eyes were gray instead of blue like his cousin’s.

“Just had to see you, Kev. You’re telling me you never get the urge to pick up the phone and call me sometimes? Thought I was like a brother to you?”

Kevin knew he was just teasing. His cousin knew just how much he meant to him.

As an only child, Kevin had no idea what having a brother was actually like, but he figured his relationship with his cousin, Michael, and their other cousin, Richard, had to be fairly close to it.

Their fathers were brothers who’d had each other growing up, and Kevin was grateful to have had his cousins.

“Actually, I do; in fact, just yesterday I got the strongest urge to dial you up and say hi.”

“See? Now where’s that call in my phone log?”

“Well, I didn’t actually follow up; something came up I needed to take care of, and I figured I’d just catch you later.”

“Ouch. I’m low priority—I get it. Well, lucky for you, I heard you mentally cry out to me, hence, here I am. Just got in around nine last night.”

Kevin smiled. “That was about the time I got that urge. What a coincidence!”

Shit. Why the hell had he said that? No need to get Michael started on his mumbo-jumbo crap.

No one knew where Michael got it from since they’d all been raised by practical, logical folks with no interest at all in the spiritual or metaphysical, yet somehow Michael ended up leaning in that direction. He talked about signs and messages from the universe like it was a real thing, when sometimes, things just lined up—broken clocks correct twice a day and all that. With the millions of events happening every second, of course every now and then it appears as if some kind of synchronicity is taking place. But Michael knew everything was pretty random; there was no greater force pulling strings. One could bend things to one’s will and walk a certain path for certain results, but sometimes, shit just happened.

“The healthiest person in the world can still get taken out in their prime by a semi truck,” he’d told Michael once.

Although things sometimes happened beyond one’s control, planning and execution were the tools to their family’s success. Research, logic, calculation.

“Anyway, I’m going to the islands in a few weeks,” Michael said. “Something tells me I’ll find my bride there.”

“Wow, you’re really serious about getting married, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely time. What’s the point of all this if I can’t share it with someone? I want to live beyond being pieces in various people’s memories; I want to exist as a whole to someone else, make a lifetime of memories with them. I want a family—get settled, watch my kids grow—all that junk. Groom yet another Davenport heir. I mean, come on—you, me, and Richard are in our primes and none of us have settled yet. Our fathers all produced healthy, strapping sons long before this age, and here we are in our thirties, still childless. Everyone before us did their duty, and now it’s our turn. My sister doesn’t even want kids, so it’s up to me to keep our particular branch going.”

Michael suddenly let out a dry chortle. “Watch—just because I want it the most, I’ll probably be the last to find it. Either way, I’ll find that girl, Kev. And when I do, I’ll know. You’ll see.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re pretty clear about that stuff and I wish you all the best. I’m definitely not there yet, and I’m certainly in no rush; I still have a lot of work to do.”

Michael’s face softened into sympathy and Kevin felt anger build in defense—he knew exactly what was coming next.

“Still trying to get his attention, huh? I suspect no matter what, your dad’s not gonna give a fuck, Kev. He’s stealing your life making you dedicate so much energy to pleasing him—an impossible task, it seems. Protect your energy, bud. And, look—you’ve been so distracted by wondering when I’ll finally take off so you can get back to work that you didn’t even notice this sweet watch I got myself.”

Kevin examined his cousin’s wrist and felt his eyebrows raise and his frustration start to abate as he took in the titanium timepiece.

“Jesus, man. How much is that one worth? Half a mil?”

“All this goddamn money we have, every now and then, gotta splurge.”

They both laughed.

Kevin wasn’t sure either of them knew the difference anymore. Money was never a concern when it came to buying what they wanted—whether necessity or toy. None of them were particularly indulgent for it to matter—they all spent fairly conservatively.

Kevin continued to examine the watch.

“Of course you’d pick something with phases of the moon on it.”

“Audemars Piguet Royal Oak Grande Complication. This is my gift to myself after closing that McConnell deal. Worth more than twenty times the cost of this watch. Plus, I like to look at it. Reminds me the clock’s always ticking. For most people, watches remind them to hurry up, but this thing reminds me to slow the fuck down and take in the tiny moments.” Michael stared at him pointedly.

“Here we go again,” Kevin said, rolling his eyes playfully in response.

“I’m just saying, man—don’t be so hard on yourself. Take it easy once in a while. And for god’s sake, live life for you, not him.”

“Hey, I play just as hard as I work,” Kevin said, ignoring part of what his cousin had said. “I recently had this wonderful two-week tryst with a gorgeous redhead in …”

“You know what I mean. I’m sure you had work at the back of your mind the whole time, and you probably picked that particular girl thinking that somewhere, your dad’s giving you a nod of approval for the women you choose to sow your wild oats with.”

They both held it together for a moment, then burst into laughter again.

Michael had used a general idiom, but they both knew where the other’s mind went at that moment—the three cousins had watched Coming to America countless times and connected back to it at every possible opportunity.

Michael had even once had a crush on the leading lady.

“Live life untethered to his opinion, Kevin,” Michael said as he stood up, straightening his jacket. “There’s no harm in living life for you, and while you’re at it, stop and smell the roses.”

“You did not just say that.”

Just then, Kevin’s assistant came in with his coffee.

When she left, Michael said, “Like maybe get your own coffee for once.”

“I fucking hate lines, Mike. Forget it.”

“Waiting every now and then isn’t a bad thing—you’ll be surprised what you’re forced to see upon being made to slow down.”

Kevin was really starting to get irritated.

“Christ. Is this about Luke?”

Their grand-uncle had died of a heart attack a little while ago, and as far as Kevin knew, he had no fans in the family—not even his own children—but had his cousin been affected by his death after all? Was Michael all of a sudden concerned with mortality because their old, evil granduncle died a just death not a moment too soon?

“It was probably stress that killed him,” Michael said flatly.

“Nah. Most likely all that hate he carried around. That man was pure evil.”

“Evil people tend to live long though, as do the men in our family. Yeah, he was old, but my bet was his relentless pursuit of evil. If he had only taken a break to recharge his hate batteries, he could have lived to cause more chaos.”

Kevin smiled grimly. “Well, good thing for all of us he didn’t stop and smell the roses,” he said mockingly.

Michael smiled at him, but the smile melted to seriousness once again.

“I’m serious, Kev. Break out of your comfort zone. Slide out of cruise control. I bet you’ll end up thanking me.”

“God, get out of here,” he said, shooing him with his hands, but he and his cousin shot the breeze for a few more minutes before Michael checked his watch and said he had to go.

They hugged once more before he took off, making promises to meet up again before he left town, and Kevin forgot all about Michael’s advice until the urge for more coffee hit him again.

He was about to buzz his personal assistant, but Michael’s words suddenly came back to him.

He stared at the stack of paperwork in front of him.

If he powered through the next few hours, he’d stay on top of it, no problem.

But could a forty-five-minute break really set him back that much?

He usually never left his desk unless entertaining a woman, and it had been a while since he’d done that. He usually powered through ten to twelve-hour work days while nourishment was brought to him.

He took a deep breath.

Maybe it was time for a short solo break, and if he was going to do that, he might as well “break out of his comfort zone” as his cousin had urged and try somewhere new.

He had a few places to choose from in his own building for coffee, but he felt a need to go outside.

He had no doubt that after a short walk, he’d come across a coffee shop; you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting one in this city.

Chapter 3

Naomi

Naomi knew she should have stuck with buses.

Sure, they could be unreliable every once in a while and make her late, but not as unpredictable as her stupid old car.

She tried the ignition again.

What the hell was wrong this time?

She didn’t have much time to find out—either she could wait for AAA or she could call Uber or grab a taxi and just try to get to her shift on time, even if it meant spending half the day’s pay.

Why had she even bothered getting a car again?

Then she remembered—at the time, she’d had two jobs, and the end time of one was too close to the start time of the other, which made her late sometimes. Plus, taking a bus home at night freaked her out.

She no longer had that second job, but she still had the stupid car, and though her good sense told her to park it now that she didn’t really need it, she figured she might as well just keep on using it since it still worked.

She sighed as the car refused to start again.

The car was definitely more trouble than it was worth and she’d have to get rid of it if she wanted any hope of moving out of the apartment sooner than later.

Naomi tried to make up for her tardiness with an extra cheery attitude, but pretending to be extra-bubbly while distracted only ended up with her causing a massive spill.

Shit, she thought as she hurried to clean up the mess.

She tried to ignore the eyes of her manager burning into her once he had hurried out to hear what the commotion was about.

“Shall we switch you to the register?” he asked kindly, and she gratefully accepted.

Unfortunately, by the time she messed up her third order, she knew she was in big trouble.

She just couldn’t get it together; she still felt frazzled.

Dread filled her stomach once her break arrived and the manager called her into the office instead.

“Naomi, I’m really sorry to have to do this,” he began, his eyes looking like he meant his words. “I mean, we all like you here…”

“No, please don’t, Brad—I’m just having a bad day after a terrible night…”

“We all have bad days, Naomi, and I’m not saying whatever happened to you isn’t a valid reason for you being late today and causing a mess out there, but this isn’t exactly the first time we’ve had trouble with you.”

“Yeah, but last night, my roommate…”

“I can’t, Naomi—if I let you stay it sets a bad precedent. Others would have let you go earlier, but I figured you’d get it together and you’re so pleasant to have around. But you’ve had one too many chances, and I have to do my job. I’m really sorry to have to let you go, Naomi.”

Don’t cry, she told herself. Whatever you do, don’t look pathetic, no matter how much the tears are building up…

“Just one more chance, Brad,” she said, horrified to hear the break in her voice.

“I’ll take your apron now. I’m sorry, Naomi, and I wish you the best of luck. I’m sure you can find a better gig than this place anyway,” he said, softening his face into a tiny smile. “Please don’t take this personally. All the best to you.”

Naomi held her head high as she stood and began untying her apron.

She handed it to him and headed for the exit, unable to look in the direction of any of the folks she had worked with for the past eight months, and whose eyes she could feel on her as she made a beeline for the glass double doors.

Her mind was buzzing.

She had to find a new job fast—she couldn’t afford to be set back for much longer.

She thought about Jenna—the smug look that’ll probably crawl across her face once she hears about the firing, the offer she’ll give to put in a good word for her at her night club.

“I’ll let ‘em know you have nice tits,” she imagined her saying.

Naomi maneuvered the sidewalk just fine in her distracted distress until a miscalculation put her into the path of a man who dodged to the left the same time she tried to dodge him by stepping to the right without slowing down, causing him to grab her by the shoulders to avoid them smashing into each other in their dance of avoidance.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” he said as he let her go, successfully sidestepping her.

The casual annoyance in his voice set her off and made her look up at him, just as everything she’d been holding back bubbled to the surface.

Seeing him look like some entitled prick in his expensive-looking suit only made everything worse.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” she spat at him before turning to take off, but not before registering how good-looking he was.

His gray eyes had seemed to soften as their eyes met, and he seemed startled, yet not like the asshole she initially took him for once her gaze went from his suit to his chiseled face.

And was it her imagination or did his eyes momentarily drop to her lips?

Her own eyes had lingered on his beautiful masculine features until she had to force herself to tear them away.

Still, she didn’t regret cursing him one bit—that suit, that hair…no matter how kind his eyes had looked, she had no doubt a douche lurked beneath those fine threads, and entitled douchebags like him needed to be treated like normal people every now and then and get an earful of profanity directed at them.

Now that she was thinking about it, he looked just like one of the types of guys Jenna talked about—wealthy men who regularly bought women’s company.

Jenna had told her all sorts of stories about those kind of guys, and she had even tried to become a high-class escort for guys like them herself, but she had never been able to meet the base requirements for agencies she applied to.

She had been brought in for an interview once, and she had been so excited when she left for it but came home all dejected saying she had a feeling she had only been called in for laughs.

“The bitch said she was just curious after seeing my résumé and had to see what I really looked like after my phone interview. Then she went on to list all the ways I lacked what it took for the job—from a college degree to a solid grasp on English,” Jenna said of her “stuck-up looking” interviewer. “She said she’s sure there’s a market somewhere for no-class trashy hicks, but her clientele has no ‘inclination’ in that direction.”

As Naomi turned to walk away from the man, she decided he was probably among that clientele, and although she wasn’t some high-class hooker, the way the guy had looked at her, there was no doubt what had crossed his mind.

Humph. Men.

Well, she wasn’t for sale, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to be some rich guy’s fetish purchase.

She was not the one.

Chapter 4

Kevin

Kevin’s arm snaked out and grabbed the girl’s arm before she could storm off and leave him.

His fingers felt like they were burning through her, the heat and electricity between them catching him by surprise.

Her body jerked at his grasp, then she stared at him in disbelief, her face morphing into a pinched expression of offense.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” she said, her voice full and sharp, but the lasers of her eyes were softened by the beginning of tears in them.

Still, he dropped her arm like a hot potato, then he held his arms up in defensive surrender, but he knew his stance communicated his intent to keep her there a moment longer.

His eyes took in her polo shirt and khakis and he immediately figured that she had just left work—no chick wore polos and khakis out in public unless she was on a golf course or on a job. And by the look on her face, she was devastated, so she probably just got sent home, or worse, fired.

The details were little to go on, but he was satisfied with his guess; either way, she was clearly having a shitty day, and the main reasons for such distress were usually work and romantic relationships.

He knew where to go from there.

He tried to keep his eyes from her beautifully-shaped luscious lips and ignored the curiosity poking him about what it would be like to kiss them and said, “Listen, I know this is kind of a weird time and place, but I hire a lot of people on gut instinct, and my gut says you might be able to help me out—that we might be able to help each other out, in fact.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but none of what he was about to tell her was.

“I couldn’t help but notice your work clothes,” he continued, energized that she had remained in place and was looking at him with slight interest, “and I could be way off base here, but I suspect you might be on the job market, and I recently got an unexpected opening; I might have a job for you.”

He watched her eyes slowly and deliberately travel over him, from head to toe and back up again.

Luckily, he looked every bit the wealthy man he was, so there had to be no doubt he was a job provider.

“Thanks, but I don’t do that kind of stuff,” she said flatly.

Then she turned as if to leave again.

He almost reached for again, but he let his voice do the grabbing.

“I’m sorry—what kind of stuff? I haven’t told you anything about the position yet,” he said, infusing his tone with authority.

“Escort or whatever it is you think you can use my body for,” she said, turning back to him but not looking at him.

He put on his most formal, all-business voice.

“I assure you—the work I have in mind is less…glamorous than what you’re thinking. Do you have any experience as a domestic worker?”

He watched her entire manner change.

Her body sagged, but along with the relief emanating from her was something else.

Disappointment?

Well, a job offer for domestic work wasn’t exactly thrilling for most people, and he felt kind of bad for deflating her, but he had to ease her somehow and get her off guard; he needed her not to see him as a perv, and if implying all she was good for was to help out in the home, so be it.

Still, she looked hesitant.

She was certainly a ball of negative emotions, and he hoped to see what her smile looked like soon.

The fact that she hadn’t continued to storm off, nor had she denied needing a job gave him hope.

No matter what, he couldn’t let her go; the girl’s eyes had arrested him, the raw pain in her voice as she cussed him out had pierced his chest.

He had to do something to help her; he needed to do something to take her pain away.

He was never one to be moved by women’s tears, but this woman’s sorrow inspired an almost crippling sympathy, and he had to do something to soothe the ache in himself too.

What else was going on with her besides losing her job?

He had no doubt her sorrows went far beyond that.

“In fact…” He made a show of checking his watch. “I can interview you quickly. Ten minutes is all I have time for. If the position sounds good to you, you can start tomorrow. It’s not exactly the kind of job where you need an extensive résumé.”

Her eyes flickered to the coffee shop less than half a block away, but he had long figured that was where she had been let go from.

“I know you can probably make coffee, and I have a feeling you might be open to taking a position to hold you over until you can move on to bigger and better things,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of her wayward glance.

Her beautiful brown eyes held him for what almost felt like a full minute, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head. But he had no idea what was really going on in her mind, especially with the doozy she surprised him with, accusing him of being a John.

Still, he could imagine a few things churning in her mind.

Was he a loon? she was probably wondering. Should she trust him? How many options did she have? Should she take the chance?

Finally, she nodded.

“Great! We can take a quick walk, grab some coffee—from elsewhere, of course.”

She nodded again.

He indicated they continue walking in the direction she had been headed, and they quickly found another small coffee shop.

He asked her what she would like and she looked startled.

“No thanks,” she said.

There was that wariness again; her skepticism button was strong.

What, did she think he’d want a kiss from her as repayment?

What kind of life had she led that left her so distrusting and suspicious?

“Suit yourself,” he said, putting in his order.

They sat down at a small table; in fact, everything felt rather small and uncomfortable, and he wanted to curse his cousin for encouraging him to do go out and do this, but with the sad beauty sitting in front of him, he couldn’t get too mad.

Mike might be right after all, and maybe he’d end up more than a bit grateful soon.

“So what exactly is the job position?” she asked.

Her body language was still completely closed off—hands gathered in front of her, everything else about her pulled tight.

He produced a small smile and shook his head as if she had just tried to get away with something.

“You know there’s this thing people do—once they know what the job’s for, they tailor their experiences to it, which, obviously, you’re supposed to do. But this position requires more insight into personality. Compatibility beyond whether or not the objective of the current version of your résumé lines up with the job description. Get my drift?”

She nodded but looked unsure.

“Anyway, so just start by telling me about you. Hand me your résumé verbally. Tell me about your job experiences, as far back as you want.”

His coffee was brought to him just as she started to launch into her job history.

He watched her carefully as she spoke, listening to everything she said and everything she didn’t say.

She looked sort of embarrassed by some of her jobs—the fast food places, in particular—and her eyes darted to his suit as if realizing those jobs were silly to mention in the face of his apparent wealth.

Her slightly elevated energy as she first began to speak started to come down, as if she started losing hope of being good enough for whatever he was looking for.

“So you’ve been working a while. Keep going,” he encouraged her.

She continued to talk about her jobs and he found himself distracted by her lips again.

What he would give to pull them between his…

“Hm. Well, that sounds great. I mean, what I’m looking for doesn’t require all that much experience and training like I said. Sort of an on-the-job kind of deal; no degrees needed.”

“Um, what kind of terms are we talking? Is it part-time or full-time? And what’s the salary range?”

She looked embarrassed to have asked, and he wasn’t sure how to answer her since everything was on the fly.

“It depends,” he began. “It’s a pretty fluid position. You can start off part-time but go to full-time, for example, depending on how things work out with the workload.”

He watched her eyes light up.

“As for salary range, pretty standard.”

She nodded as if she knew and he was glad he didn’t have to throw out a figure in case he was way off.

Did she really just need a job that badly that she wouldn’t even press for how much it paid? What the heck had she been making?

“What was your previous salary?” he asked.

When she hesitated, her eyes wary, he said shortly, “It’s a standard question.”

He tried to keep his face neutral when she answered, then did some math in his head.

Even if she had been working forty-hour weeks, at the rate she gave…holy cow—he made more than her annual salary in less than an hour. Pretty much anything he threw out would be a vast improvement.

“If things work out, you could be making upwards of fifty grand a year,” he said. It was the price he’d paid for his current watch.

Her eyes looked like they might pop right off her face; the figure was almost three times what she made recently.

He fished around in his pocket.

“Here’s my card. Call that number at nine p.m. tonight, and I’ll have more info for you.”

She took the card, still looking dazed.

He knew he had her.

He checked his watch again, reconsidering the time. No need to keep them both waiting too long—four hours was far more than enough time to make something up for her and iron out the details.

“Make that six o’clock,” he said, trying to keep himself from smiling at his own cunning.

He had done exactly what potential employees did in their interviews with potential employers, twisting it for his own needs. Instead of having her tailor her answers and résumé to the prospective job, he could now tailor the job to her, forming the position based off of her answers.

Retail, she’d said? Food and Beverage? Some babysitting? Done.

Kevin briefly considered having her work in one of his buildings, but he had a strong desire to bring her home and have her in his space.

He already had a full staff of housekeepers, but surely they won’t mind another pair of helping hands?

He wondered why he felt such a pull toward that particular girl—he wasn’t usually so moved by other people’s plights; she wasn’t the first strange female on the verge of tears he’d seen.

So why did he feel a need to help her?

And beyond that, why didn’t he just pull some strings and get her started filing things away or some other unskilled administrative work away from him? Why did he feel a need to have her in his mansion?

Sure, she was an attractive girl but there was certainly no shortage of those; he had access to more refined versions of her in droves.

He pushed his thoughts away.

For now, he’d just go with it—it felt great to do a good deed every now and then, something that wasn’t just a tax write-off.

He stared at the pile of paperwork on his desk again.

Maybe Michael was right and it was time for him to take a mini-vacation and stop and smell the roses.

Instead of coming to the office, maybe he’d just work from home for the next week or two now that he had a reason to hang out there.

His office assistant might appreciate the break—or maybe she’d be a little miffed he wasn’t bringing her home instead, since she knew pretty much all of his preferences—down to how he liked his sandwiches.

Either way, his needs would be slightly different at home since he already had a full staff of people who knew what he liked and how he liked it.

Damn it, where could he really slot the girl in then?

He talked to his house manager, Jeffrey, and according to his assessment, they were, in fact, overstaffed; there was only so much dusting and dry-cleaning and laundering their current staff of six could do daily.

Kevin knew he kept more workers than needed, but he certainly didn’t have the heart to let anyone go.

He didn’t want Naomi to work in a cleaning capacity anyway.

Maybe she could work with his personal shopper as a sort of nod to her past retail experience.

He finally decided to confine her to Food and Beverage needs.

She’d bring him his coffee, and maybe he’d arrange for her to work with Chef Manny—have her sent on runs for groceries or whatever he needed.

And if that wasn’t enough, he’d eventually figure out more ways to fill up her time.

She looked pretty desperate; she’d do almost anything, probably.

When his phone rang at six p.m., Kevin’s heart sped up unexpectedly and he felt on edge.

What the hell was that about? he wondered.

He never got nervous about calls unless he thought his father was on the other end.

“Great news!” he said when he heard Naomi’s voice. “I’d like to offer you the position. As I mentioned, it’s in a domestic capacity so it’s for my estate, and it’s a rather fluid position—you’d be acting as a sort of general household assistant mainly to the cooks and my other personal assistants.”

“What should I wear? Or is there a uniform provided?”

Kevin thought of the plain blue and white uniform his domestic staff wore and scowled.

“Well, you won’t be getting your hands dirty exactly—especially since it’s your first day—so feel free to wear what you’d wear if going to the mall or something. Jeans, long, dark pants. T-shirts. No sleeveless tops. I’ll send over a wardrobe guide. Also, you already have the job, but I’ll need you to fill out a formal application. We can do this all electronically—send me your email, I’ll send you the secure application. Then look out for more details later tonight.”

Once her details came in, he started to research her.

Unlike his crazy cousin, he still had to use reason and logic when about to invite a stranger into his home.

He proceeded with a background check, and his heart softened once he discovered her residence at a group home in her teens and realized she was a child of the system. One of those kids who never got adopted.

Now that he had the workplaces she’d told him about on paper, he followed up and confirmed her former places of employment and her places of residence. His portrait of her filled out more as her previous employers had nothing but good things to say about her—even the one who’d fired her.

So she was late and distracted a lot—it only pointed to what he suspected—she had serious issues and he looked forward to prying them out of her.

Chapter 5

Naomi

The good thing about being fired early in the day was that Naomi was able to find out what was wrong with her car sooner than later.

Now that she knew it was just a dead battery, she felt a lot better—her car hadn’t failed her yet.

As she drove to the location she’d been given to begin her first day of her sudden new job, she still kept silently praying that’s all the problem was and breathed a huge sigh of relief once she arrived at the mansion without incident.

She followed the instructions she had been given, and once her intercom interaction was complete and the gates swung open, she had to fight to keep from going slack-jawed at the expanse and intricacy of the property before her.

Her eyes greedily took in the detailed landscaping, the grandness of the main residence.

Once she followed the curving driveway to the entrance, a man dressed as a butler and introducing himself as Jeffrey Higgins, House Manager, greeted her before taking her keys and driving her car elsewhere, after informing her to wait for ‘the master.’

She was still surprised when Kevin came out personally to greet her and take her inside.

“I’m getting you a more reliable business car to run errands in,” he said with a slight smile. “Now, follow me. I will only give you a partial tour—the main areas you’ll be working in.”

Naomi barely heard him as he gave details, distracted easily by the decor, the grandeur of everything.

She got jarred back to his voice once he mentioned the servants’ quarters.

“I’m sorry?” she said. “You mean, your staff lives…here?”

“Well, not here in the main house, but adjoined. As you can imagine, it is far more convenient to have live-in help.”

The gears started working in her head.

“So they live here for free?”

He laughed. “Of course! Since I require them to be easily accessible, it is part of my own expense.”

So not only were they getting paid fairly well, if her own new salary was anything to go by, but they didn’t even have to pay rent!

No way—they were making bank.

She wondered if they had to pay for their own food. If not, they were pocketing their entire salary—no electricity bills, no cable bills, no gas/water/trash…

She had to find out about joining them.

She wasn’t technically a servant, but surely he wouldn’t mind having her stay near?

She could save so much more money faster and get her own apartment and possibly a better car so much sooner.

She decided to wait until later to ask him about it—she didn’t want to seem greedy and needy.

As they headed for the kitchen, Naomi tried hard to listen to her new boss’s words and not get too distracted by the sights around her again.

“…I’ll be working from home the next two weeks or so, so I’ll be here most of the time. You’ll carry out the tasks I give you, plus bring my coffee and food…”

As he continued with the minor details of her duties, a scene from the beginning of the film Coming to America came to her head.

“Arf!” she almost said, mimicking the barking sound of one of the characters at the beginning of the movie. “Do you want me to scrub you in the royal bath as well?” she actually said before she could stop the words.

She immediately looked away, embarrassed and afraid of his reaction.

How on earth could she have let that slip?

She hoped she hadn’t angered him too much by stepping out of line.

But once she chanced a glance upward at him, she noticed his eyes seemed to twinkle, and it looked like he was holding in a laugh.

He actually looked like he liked the idea too much for her liking.

“I was just kidding,” she said quickly, although the idea of sitting naked behind him in a filled bathtub, perhaps surrounded by rose petals and aromatic candles didn’t exactly repel her.

“No, I just…” He finally let himself chuckle. “It reminded me of a scene from Coming to America is all.”

Naomi felt her eyebrows raise, but she said nothing about having had the same thought.

No use encouraging him to flirt with her.

She also suppressed her other response: what would he know about Coming to America? Did guys like him even watch T.V. beyond stock market recaps or something?

Once it sounded like he was done with his overview, she said, “Excuse me for saying this, but when you first mentioned domestic work and helping out around the home, I imagined I’d be doing some sort of cleaning—dishes, dusting…You know, housework.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. The others are here for all of that. Like I said, you won’t be getting your hands dirty, per se.”

“It’s honest work, Mr. Davenport—I don’t mind doing it.”

“Christ, please call me Kevin; don’t make me feel old.”

What the heck was he talking about? He was probably no more than ten years older than her.

“And assisting me personally isn’t all you’ll be doing. As I mentioned, I’ll have you work closely with the cooks and they’ll guide you through some of the rest—familiarize you with the pantry, send you out for ingredients every now and then. You’ll also be working with Jeffrey—he oversees and coordinates everything, and he’ll let you know what he needs, and generally act as our in-between. The job requires you to be flexible—your tasks will probably change day-to-day, and some days you might work more closely with me than others.”

A thrill ran through Naomi at his words, and she wondered about the possibilities.

She wasn’t sure what he meant exactly, but she absolutely didn’t mind working closely with him, inhaling his heavenly male scent and looking into those beautiful gray eyes at all.

She couldn’t believe her luck.

Most of the day was orientation, but from what she gathered of her daily duties, it would be the easiest job she’d ever had, and she was getting paid far more than she ever had to do it.

The hours were long, but if all of her days were anything like today, she had definitely hit the jackpot.

After meeting the other workers and getting a feel for the place, her eyes started developing an addiction to the fine beauty of the sprawling estate, and she dreaded going home that evening.

Things seemed to glitter at the mansion, the endless space and stately architecture making her mind teem with possibilities and hope.

After being in a place like this for the day, how could she ever head back home without feeling depressed again?

Surely, working at a place such as this then having to go back to some frumpy home took a toll eventually.

Maybe that was also a reason the domestics were kept on the grounds—to keep them happy. To help fight off the mental weight of having to go home to place so far beneath what they’d be around all day.

Already, everything in her was dropping at the thought of the nine hundred square feet of ordinary awaiting her.

Plus, she just knew another fight with Jenna was coming.

The previous day, she didn’t go home after getting fired; instead, she dallied around until her usual shift end time—getting her car sorted out, then grabbing a fast food meal and eating it in the parking lot, then borrowing another book from the library.

Once she got home, she closed herself up in her room immediately.

Jenna didn’t bother her, and she breathed a sigh of relief once Jenna finally left for her evening shift.

She knew she’d be fast asleep once Jenna returned later that night, and conflict would have been avoided for the day.

But now, Jenna would be home—she only worked a few shifts a week, and if she didn’t have a date or anything that night, they would no doubt clash again.

Naomi could feel it coming—she couldn’t stay quiet. She had to say something again and impress upon Jenna how important it was that she feel safe in her own home.

As she mentally prepared to leave the serenity of her new workplace, the butler, Jeffrey accosted her.

“Mr. Davenport requests your presence in his office,” Jeffrey said.

Of course, he would—it was close to the end of her shift, and he would no doubt want some kind of feedback or provide it himself.

She headed to the second floor toward the space he’d shown her earlier, her body seeming to heat up a bit more with every step as she got closer and closer to being one-on-one with her new, sexy boss again.

She figured it was nervousness at first—that an assessment and grading of her first day was coming, and who wasn’t nervous when about to receive a scored test back? It was almost like a visit to the principal’s office.

But she couldn’t keep up the delusion for long—she knew exactly why she was filled with nervous energy again.

All day long, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way her new boss’s body moved under his clothes—the strength emanating from his tall, broad, muscular form.

She couldn’t stop herself from wondering if he was as muscular as he seemed, as cut as she imagined.

His arms bulged a bit with muscle—did he have an eight-pack of abs too? Was his chest hard as rock?

All day long she had to fight off imaginings and fantasies of his shirt suddenly blowing off so she could see.

He did something to her—the way his gray eyes pierced hers, the way he gazed at her like he couldn’t tear his eyes away, almost like he could look into her soul.

It was sort of unnerving, but his eyes seemed so soft and warm that they put her at ease.

Plus, his casual confidence drove her crazy, and he smelled so good too—a clean, masculine aroma that took her mind to unexpected places. Like being nude with him on a secluded beach.

It wasn’t fair—how was she supposed to work here every day and not see him in wildly inappropriate ways? What was wrong with her?

Don’t be so hard on yourself, she reminded herself. The guy is indisputably good-looking; your response is perfectly natural.

The door was slightly open, but she knocked anyway.

“Come on in, Naomi.”

His deep, rich voice caressed her body.

She was horrified to discover that by now, her panties were damp.

How was it that he did this to her without even touching her?

What was happening to her mind and body?

She stepped inside, her cheeks warming even more as her eyes rested on him.

He was so ridiculously handsome, and the way he looked at her so openly made her feel self-conscious and unsure.

Why did he look like he liked her so much? She didn’t see him looking at any of the other workers with those eyes.

Then again, he had met her at a pretty desperate place—no doubt she was witnessing his leftover compassion for the distressed damsel he’d met.

“Have a seat,” he said, indicating the chair opposite him.

Her heart pounded harder.

“How did you like your first day here?” he began.

What the heck? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one handing out a grade?

“Sir?”

“Oh, Christ. Please don’t do that. It’s not that sort of arrangement.”

She had no idea what he meant.

“I just want to know how you feel about the job. Does it seem like something you’d like to continue to do?”

She already signed the papers and everything, didn’t she? Why was he asking this?

He had to know by now that practically nothing would make her give up this opportunity; it was the answer to all of her current needs.

Almost.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here,” he said. “With your duties.”

“I love it, Mr. … Kevin.” Nah. It sounded strange coming from her mouth; it didn’t feel right at all. Calling him by his first name felt far too intimate and personal, and she needed things to stay strictly professional between them in every way. She’d have to plead her case for the address later. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ll continue to enjoy my job here. The other workers are nice, the place is gorgeous, the job seems pretty straightforward and…well, it’s not all that taxing—what’s not to like?”

He smiled and her heart fluttered.

Christ, what was getting into her?

He’s super-hot—who wouldn’t melt under those eyes? That smile?

“I’m glad to hear it; in fact, I wanted to invite you to live-in as well. Totally optional in your case.”

Naomi fought to stay seated, suppressing the urge to fist-pump and scream “Yes!” at the top of her lungs.

Considering the brief mention of it earlier, she should have known that it would be a real possibility, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Mustering up all her control, she said, “That sounds great!” as calmly as she could.

“Wonderful. We’ll make arrangements to have your things moved to your quarters here. I know this is a bit of a short notice, and maybe you have a lease you can’t break at this time, but I can help you…”

“It’ll be fine, Mr. Davenport; I’m sort of in a month-to-month arrangement that I can pretty much leave at anytime, so if it’s okay with you, I’d like to move in as soon as possible.”

His face brightened tremendously, and he reminded her of a kid who’d discovered he’d gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas.

He didn’t even bother correcting how she’d addressed him.

“Fantastic,” he said. “Is tonight okay?”

Naomi thought about it.

Jenna was working tonight.

She could be in and out with her stuff before she came home.

“I can go home tonight,” she began, noticing his sunny expression fall a bit, “grab my things and return here, ready to settle in. I don’t have a lot of stuff—it’ll probably take less than an hour to pack up.”

His smile returned at full wattage.

“I’ll send Jeffrey with you,” he said, reaching for a phone on his desk. “You can leave your car here—he’ll take you in one of ours and bring you back, and then we can get you all settled. Sorry today is so long for you, but you’ll be snuggled into your new quarters in no time—still early enough to get enough sleep to start bright and early tomorrow.”

Naomi smiled at him as he barked his orders into the phone, not missing the way his eyes twinkled at her, his softened face a marvelous contradiction to his firm, business-like tone as he orchestrated the rest of her evening.

Chapter 6

Naomi

Naomi felt conflicted as she pulled up to her apartment.

On one hand, she was ecstatic to move out sooner than she could have dreamed. On the other, she felt terrible for the huge surprise she was setting Jenna up for.

She packed up fairly quickly, and on her last trip, she scribbled a note to soften the blow.

You did already warn her, she reminded herself. She had a heads up about you leaving as soon as you could more than once. Plus, she isn’t looking out for your well-being; you have every right to leave an unsafe environment as soon as possible. As she’d said, her rules; she won’t blame you.

Naomi nodded as if assuring herself she was doing the right thing, then left the note in a prominent place.

Jenna should definitely understand; she’d made herself clear after all.

Naomi thought about texting her too, but figured, why bother? Suppose she saw the text on a break or something and it ruined the rest of her night?

No use upsetting her earlier.

Plus, Naomi planned to follow up with a call, and they’d probably meet up soon so she can return the key and sort out whatever she owed.

No matter how much she tried to soothe herself, she still felt horrible, knowing what a shock it’ll be.

As she headed for the door for the last time, she felt a tumble of disturbance in her stomach, a ball of sadness forming.

The place wasn’t all that grand, but it wasn’t terrible, and it had been her home for over two years.

Her heart sagged a little at the thought of leaving it behind, but soon, the fear and excitement of what lay ahead took over.

“Welcome back,” Kevin Davenport said with a smile so bright that, for a moment, Naomi felt like she never wanted to leave.

Jeffrey started taking her bags away and she resisted the urge to stop him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get them back,” Kevin said, his eyes twinkling in a way that was becoming familiar to her and tugged at her insides. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”

He turned and it was clear she was to follow him.

As far as she could tell, her boss was going the wrong way—or some sort of roundabout way. Either way, the direction they were headed didn’t make sense.

Why had Jeffrey brought her all the way here with her stuff, and why was Mr. Davenport following the path he took? Why would her stuff be brought to the main residence, only to have to take it to the side quarters soon?

Jeffrey could have just dropped her off then escorted her back into the main house if Mr. Davenport had more to say to her before she settled in for the night.

Mr. Davenport glanced at her.

“Your eyebrows are furrowed. What is it, Naomi?”

“I guess I don’t understand the direction we’re going?”

“I’m showing you to a guest room.”

Naomi still didn’t get it.

Then it occurred to her: obviously, since everything was so new and sudden, they hadn’t quite been prepared to have her, and she’d be in the guest room until everything was ready for her in the servants’ quarters, which probably wouldn’t take long—Kevin was obviously a man who didn’t waste much time.

Before she knew it, she’d be settling into her own unit among the other workers and learning how to fit in there.

She relaxed.

She started wondering what those conditions were like—did the others live like roommates in some six-bed four-bath unit or did they have their own bed-bath units with a shared kitchen and living room or something?

“Here we are,” Mr. Davenport said, extending his arm to the room.

Her bags had already been deposited at the foot of the bed, and Jeffrey was long gone.

The large bedroom made her want to run in and plop onto the welcoming queen-sized bed with the beautiful lavender and white bedding immediately, but she restrained herself.

None of her foster homes had a bedroom like this, and the motel she and Jenna stayed in for a few days before they were able to move into their latest apartment certainly couldn’t come close.

When she toured the mansion earlier that day, all of the bedroom doors had been closed, so she hadn’t gotten a glimpse of any of them to know what to expect.

She’d seen Kevin’s home office, the kitchen, the open areas of the foyer.

Now, it suddenly occurred to her that it had all been deliberate—during the day, the mansion was conducive to work with those doors closed—no suggestion of rest or comfort. But now, with the bedroom doors open, it looked like a home—welcoming and inviting.

Come and sleep on me…the large bed cooed.

No running out of dresser space here, the set of white dressers silently bragged.

No worries about hurting your eyes with insufficient lighting! the lamps and light fixtures whispered.

There was even a makeup table with a dressing mirror, and from what she could see from the door a little further in, her own bathroom.

Naomi unexpectedly felt choked up and fought hard against the emotion building in her.

Why did the stupid bedroom affect her like this?

“Naomi, is something wrong?”

Kevin’s deep, concerned voice jarred her sufficiently out of her sudden emotional whirlwind.

She mentally shook herself and flashed him a wide smile.

“Yeah! I’m just…floored by how nice this place is. It’ll be hard to leave once you guys get my unit together.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My place in the servants’ quarters? I figured I’m here tonight until that’s all sorted out.”

“Oh. No, I’ve decided you’re to retire here in the evenings. Considering what I need from you, it’s best to have you as nearby as possible, easily accessible.”

An unexpected thrill passed through her again.

Was her mind being dirty? Why was she making more of his words than he meant?

Obviously, he meant exactly what he said—as his personal assistant, the way he described it, if he needed a drink of water in the dead of night and didn’t feel like going for it, she needed to be prepared to get up and get for him. Wasn’t she basically his personal slave?

Ugly way to put it, she scolded herself. Besides, he made it clear you’re not required to be available to him twenty-four-seven—you get to go off the clock. As you are now.

She got ready to start settling in, but before she took a step into the cozy room, he said, “Do you want something to eat? I don’t think you’ve eaten since lunch; you must be starved.”

Her stomach chose just that moment to grumble.

His eyes twinkled as the corners of his mouth rose, and she couldn’t help smiling in response.

“I wouldn’t mind eating,” she said, nodding slightly.

“Great. You’ll have dinner with me and we’ll discuss everything further.”

She nodded again.

No harm in that, right?

Suddenly, his gaze started making her uncomfortable. What was going on in his head?

Did he ever blink?

“Um, I’d like to freshen up beforehand, if I may? I’ve just been running around all day, and it’s like everything’s settling on my skin now that things have slowed down.”

“Of course! The bathroom’s just there,” he said with a nod of his head toward the slightly open door on the right, deep inside the room. “Feel free to do whatever you have to do, then meet me in the dining room at seven sharp.”

She nodded.

He looked at his watch.

“That gives you half an hour. Is that enough time?”

“Yes, sure.”

“And you remember where the dining room is, of course?”

She nodded again.

“Perfect. I’ll see you soon.”

Not soon enough, she found herself thinking.

She couldn’t help checking out his firm butt in his slacks as he walked away.

Chapter 7

Naomi

Naomi tried not to stare at Kevin as she approached the ten-seat table.

He sat at the head of it, and he looked as if he had freshened up himself, his hair appearing a bit damp from a shower.

He now wore a more casual white dress shirt, slightly open at the chest, and suddenly, her eyes refused to stop going to the hint of tanned, muscled chest winking at her from the opening.

Only when she heard his voice rumble in her direction was she able to look up at his face.

“I’m sorry?” she said, feeling her cheeks flush with heat as embarrassment flooded her.

No doubt he had caught her checking him out, and she had no way to play it off.

He smiled briefly, and she was relieved to see the familiar twinkle in his eyes.

He was surely laughing at her.

“I said, feel free to sit here,” he said, indicating the chair immediately to his right.

She realized in horror that she would be just two feet away from him, and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to pretend his hard, broad chest wasn’t pulling at her eyes.

Maybe she’d simply get lost in his handsome, chiseled face instead; she didn’t need an explanation for looking into that.

Then again, his piercing gray eyes would probably be her undoing.

And damn him—she could already smell his heady cologne from where she was.

She tried to take a discreet deep breath as she stood to move.

Why had she agreed to this whole thing again?

She shouldn’t be feeling this way about her boss, and she knew he was trouble the moment she realized how attractive he was while she was staring daggers at him for daring to reproach her for a sidewalk slip-up.

And she wasn’t exactly doing the greatest job of hiding her attraction.

What if he decided it was too much?

Despite his amusement at her wayward eyes, would he eventually fire her for being inappropriate, ogling him like she wanted to jump his bones? Or did he get off on it? Had he deliberately exposed himself to her a little just to mess with her head? If so, what kind of game was he playing? Was this some sort of test?

She sat down in the suggested seat, keeping her eyes on the table.

“What is this made of?” she asked as she registered the wood, and she was glad she managed to sound like she was actually interested.

“Cherry, laurel burl veneers, various other hardwood solids.”

She wondered if she was supposed to raise her eyebrows and nod as if she knew anything about furniture materials and the worth of this or that.

She gave no reaction, only nodding a little as if she’d processed his words, still staring at it.

“Naomi, are you sure you’re comfortable here?”

His voice seemed deeper, more penetrating somehow.

It had the quality of a finger lifting a downcast chin and made her eyes snap to his.

“Yes, very much so. I’m truly grateful for this opportunity, Mr. Davenport, and I appreciate how…humanely your workers are treated.”

He burst into laughter then.

“Did you expect a sweat shop of some sort?”

“No, I just mean—they have a lot of benefits I didn’t expect; I don’t think it’s normal for all their needs to be taken care of so thoroughly. Like, I know someone who works for a rich family, but she doesn’t get to live with them, much less have them feed her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Your workers are well-taken care of, it seems, in every possible way.”

He nodded. “Everything you’ve seen extends to you, Naomi. Anything you need, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

She had to look away again; she swore she heard something in his tone.

Was it her suddenly-filthy mind again?

Why had her thoughts rapidly plunged into the gutter? What was wrong with her?

But she already knew—the clean, masculine smell of him on top of the way he was sculpted like some god and spoke to her in such rich, almost caring tones was unraveling her.

It wasn’t fair that a guy of his means got to look and smell that good, that his eyes were such whirlpools of silver electricity, that his voice seemed to physically caress her.

How did anyone work around him without wanting to…?

She stopped herself.

Thank goodness she didn’t have to work too closely with him—bringing him coffee every now and then she could handle.

She momentarily wondered if what was happening now was routine—did all new workers have a one-on-one with him after their first day?

“So tell me about your ultimate goals, Naomi. I know this job is a temporary position for you. A stepping stone, if you will. Where do you see yourself eventually?”

Naomi felt jarred back to reality.

“Excuse me?”

“What is it you dream of in life? What are your ambitions?”

She had to stop and think; she had never really thought about anything like that in detail before.

And what was it he expected of her exactly? To say that she planned to run a multi-million-dollar corporation one day? To establish a line of bakeries?

“I’m afraid I don’t really know how to answer that,” she said truthfully.

“It’s a simple question, Naomi,” he said somewhat curtly.

“Simple for you, I’m sure,” she bit back before she could stop the words.

She regretted it immediately, even though she had to fight hard not to say the rest of what she wanted to say.

But she’d seen enough on her tour—it didn’t look like he had to work to get where he was; his family had clearly always been rich.

What would he know of having to fight for anything? About having to work hard for the most basic necessities? Had he ever had to choose between a week of groceries and a car repair?

His eyes burned briefly at her outburst but remained on her, unblinking, while he remained silent, still waiting for her answer.

What the hell was she supposed to say to him?

She didn’t want to look unambitious, but she never quite had the luxury of dreaming beyond the next minute.

For the most part, her goals had always been simple: get a job, find a place to live both she and Jenna were fairly happy with, get a better job, convince Jenna not to sell her soul, find her sister…

But surely there was an old dream she could pull out from somewhere?

To her dismay, she couldn’t find one.

“Please don’t think any less of me, Mr. Davenport…”

“I told you to call me Kevin.”

“If you don’t mind, the formal address is more comfortable for me.”

He nodded his agreement and waited for her to continue.

“My goals have always been pretty basic: keep a roof over my head. Food in my stomach. Stay alive. I just want to keep myself afloat.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want anything, Naomi.”

“It’s not that. It’s just that my deepest needs are all kind of interpersonal. Relationships are most important to me, I guess, and it’s because of the way I grew up. I never had parents or anything—some foster parents, sure, but I’ve never had any constants my whole life. My roommate, Jenna, is the closest thing. So I’d like to maintain that friendship, if I can, for example. That’s one of my goals.”

Was it really? Hadn’t she sort of written Jenna off already?

“And I want to find my sister. She and I got separated as kids, and I’d like to reconnect with her.”

When she looked at him, she saw the remnants of compassion, then watched it slowly turn into skepticism.

“So you’re saying you don’t want anything more material out of life? No fantasy to fulfill?”

“Look, I know there are all sorts of talented people born under various conditions, and how you begin doesn’t necessarily determine how you’ll end up. Right now, one of the world’s greatest pop stars of the future is probably being born in a slum somewhere. But I’m not a painter, can’t sing to save my life, and I certainly don’t have any inclination for sports…”

“It’s not always about talent, Naomi—some of the most talented folks in any of those fields you mentioned are not nearly as successful as their less talented, but more ambitious counterparts.”

“I know that, and I’m not saying being born talentless means I’m doomed to a boring, unambitious life. I know it’s usually the most driven ones who are left standing, regardless of how little talent they might have for the thing they’re actually pursuing. But even that relentless drive, that…gumption is a sort of talent. I’d argue that it’s something people are born with, even if some only get it activated later in life after external events force them to. But there’s a reason so many people are happy living simply; we all might have one—or even a few—things we can do pretty well, but most people aren’t spectacularly talented one way or the other, and generally, you don’t need to be to get by. And that’s what most people are okay with—just getting by. As lame as it sounds, that’s all I’m trying to do: get by. I’ve pretty much only had me to look out for me, Mr. Davenport, and if I don’t do it, no one else will. Therefore, I’m not striving for anything but to survive.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t believe you, Naomi; I don’t believe that’s all you want at all.”

What the hell was he getting at? And who did he think he was to tell her who she was or what she did or didn’t want?

“I believe you’re just afraid to want more because you don’t think you’ll actually get it. You don’t want to set yourself up for disappointment. And boy, you must have had plenty to bring you to this point—to the point where you can no longer even dare to hope.”

She almost stormed from the table right then, but remembered her rudeness earlier and didn’t want to push her luck.

“I know it’s probably hard to imagine, but I prefer to live simply: little drama, daily routine, predictability.”

Finally, she thought of something that might get him off her back.

“I guess outside of the basics, I imagine living as most other people—settling down into a family life eventually.”

His face finally relaxed a bit again.

“So you want to be a wife and mom. See now, that’s something.”

Was he being sarcastic?

“Don’t say it like that, and I certainly don’t mean anytime soon. My life, as it is right now, is nowhere near appropriate for introducing another person into it.”

He stared at her for a few more silent, uncomfortable moments, and she was glad when the eye contact was broken by dessert being set down before them.

“You’re a caretaker,” he said finally, just as she took a bite of the chocolate mint bar.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you like to nurture relationships.”

She shrugged. “I guess so.”

She hoped her sudden agreeability made him drop it because he was getting to close to her deepest yearning, simple as it was.

I just really want a home, she hadn’t told him. More than anything, she wanted somewhere to belong.

But there was no way she’d say that out loud.

Thankfully, he let the matter drop.

She took two more bites of the dessert, then put down her fork.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get settled in my new quarters now.”

He raised his eyebrows and she fully expected him to tell her she can leave when he gave her permission to.

Instead, he said, “Of course! I appreciate you spending some of your off time with me. I look forward to getting to know you better, Naomi. I’ll try not to pry too much, but we’ll be working so closely together, you’ll have to forgive me if I overstep.”

Confusion filled her.

Why was he being so nice to her?

He was in the position to scold her, exert his authority over her, leave her vulnerable by firing her on the spot and shipping her back home. He didn’t have to deal with her issues and snappy mouth at all!

She was one hundred percent replaceable in an instant—no doubt there were tens of thousands of young girls more qualified and certainly more agreeable who could take her place.

But he was letting her get away with all sorts of insolence. Why?

Why was he being so tolerant?

He had to be up to something.

She softened her tone.

“I appreciate you inviting me to dinner tonight, Mr. Davenport. The food was better than anything I’ve ever had, and I look forward to working with you more.”

He smiled, and everything in her instantly melted.

She looked away and stood quickly, ready to take off like a bat out of hell.

She started walking away, and she was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t realize his footsteps had been behind her until she arrived at the threshold of her new bedroom’s door.

She expected his steps to continue past her room, but instead, as she started unzipping her luggage to unpack and settle in, she felt a pair of eyes burning into her back.

She turned and saw Mr. Davenport’s tall, muscular frame filling her doorway and paused what she was doing, the energy emanating from him and the directness of his gaze unsettling her.

She couldn’t put her finger on what she saw, but he looked intense.

Then, before she could even think of what to say to him, the corner of his mouth turned up, softening his look, then he was gone.

Chapter 8

Kevin

Shit. That was close.

Kevin silently scolded himself for his transgression, knowing he had probably freaked Naomi out.

But he couldn’t help it—his eyes hadn’t had enough of her when their dinner ended, he wasn’t ready to let her go. He felt a pull to her he couldn’t resist.

He told himself to keep moving once their footsteps reached the guest bedroom door, but his legs wouldn’t listen; desire and longing ruled his body.

Then, he made sure to, at the very least, stand behind the threshold while he got his last glimpse of her, but he knew there was no way he didn’t intimidate the poor girl—his large figure filling the frame of her bedroom doorway.

Hopefully, she hadn’t gotten too spooked.

Still, he knew he had at least one thing going for him: Naomi was heavily attracted to him, no matter how much she was obviously trying to fight it.

He’d seen the way her eyes ravished his body, getting stuck on his chest or his muscular forearms. He’d seen those warm brown eyes gazing at his lips as if all she wanted to do was take them between hers, and his dick had responded with an interested twitch.

He’d seen the rapid rising and falling of her chest as her breath quickened, her mind and body betraying her general modesty.

God, it took even more control in those moments.

He felt himself swelling in his pants at the increasing signs of her desire, and he had to find ways to bring himself back to neutral at their dinner because despite all of the indications of her attraction—how clearly she wanted him—for whatever reason, she wasn’t ready to go in that direction, and there was no way he was going to push her.

I need to do something about this, he thought as he made his way up the stairs to his own bedroom. I need to put the brakes on whatever is taking over me, fast.

Says who? his father would say, but he wasn’t like his father; he didn’t gorge himself on things just because they were there.

But Naomi wasn’t just there—she radiated a heady combination of vulnerability and strength from her unassumingly beautiful face, her curvy, feminine body, her stiff yet sensual body language.

He’d met plenty of strong women before, and women who pretended to be strong. He’d met lots of fragile, vulnerable women too—both those who gave in to their frailty and those who fought hard against it.

He’d met women who had the same things going on as Naomi, yet none of them had ever made him feel the way he felt toward her.

She set off a primal response in him and almost made him feel like some basic caveman. All he wanted to do was was protect her, help her, hold her in his arms and soothe her. He wanted to provide for her, make her feel comfortable and safe.

What the hell was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be feeling this way!

He had only meant to help out a damsel in distress, and it wasn’t even his first time doing it.

So why her? Why now?

How was it that this time, his desire to help went far beyond just satisfying the girl’s most immediate, pressing need? How was it he wanted to help Naomi with things she hadn’t even presented as problems? How was he supposed to work with her and pretend he also didn’t find her distractingly attractive?

Maybe he just needed to get laid, in general. How long had it been since the last time?

He’d been so busy with work lately, he’d lost track.

Perhaps that’s all this really was—a biological response to a need that could easily be filled by available pickings.

If he were a simpler man, he might have accepted linking his physical and sexual attraction to Naomi to everything else he was feeling, but he knew far better than that—attraction didn’t always come with this burning need to protect; in fact, it rarely did.

It was why he had to eventually break things off in his last long-term relationship—no matter how well-matched he and his ex were on paper, he couldn’t care for her the way she needed; he never softened toward her in the way she required him to.

He didn’t care about her day when she yapped on about it, he didn’t notice the things she wanted him to notice—new blond highlights and wardrobe changes—and he didn’t respond the way she wanted when she tried to make him jealous once.

The only time he reacted in a protective way was when someone tried to snatch her purse.

He had stopped the guy with a well-timed extended foot and sent him sprawling, then punched the guy’s lights out.

She had purred for him after, letting herself gaze at him with openly loving eyes, concluding that he cared about her after all, but all he could think was, It could have been anybody. And it was true—had she been a stranger, he would have done the same.

He was pretty good at recognizing when he was being manipulated by a crafty member of the opposite sex, but anytime he came across a true damsel in distress, he was ready to help—but only in that moment.

Then Naomi showed up and suddenly, he was struck by the need to give her everything he possibly could, far beyond a moment.

Knowing he had such an overwhelming reaction to her, he knew it was a mistake bringing her into his home, then inviting her to dinner with him, but he wanted to be with her so much that he let his own needs rule, and now he was deeper in because there was no way he’d push her away now.

He usually tried to respect the boundaries of the workplace—especially when dealing with someone working so closely with him and in such a subordinate position because it was one thing to have a fling with someone who was almost an equal—an associate met at a board of trustees meeting or some heiress—it was quite another to screw with a vulnerable employee.

He’d had young, attractive personal assistants before, and he had made the mistake of indulging in a seduction once, then he had to let the girl go with a hefty severance package.

He knew his effect on women and always figured it was just a matter of time before he got propositioned.

Even his latest assistant, now on a two-week vacation while he indulged in a fairly leisurely work-from-home period was on her way out.

Recently, he noticed something in the twenty-two-year-old’s bright blue eyes that put him on guard.

He saw her as a child, and he was happy to help her in her quest to finish paying for college, but he knew there was no way he was going to keep working with her. She was great at her job, but now that she was giving him those eyes, and now that he had Naomi, it was time to let her go.

He knew he shouldn’t keep Naomi, either.

Even if he hadn’t been her boss, he was not in the habit of taking advantage of vulnerable women.

He had so many who melted for him willingly, how could he? He got daily offerings of carnal pleasure, and he could afford to be as picky as he wanted—and he was. Not just any pretty young thing or sexy mature thing could worm herself into his bed.

In any case, there was never a question of whether or not a woman wanted it—no hesitation.

Once in a while, a woman proposed a challenge he wanted to take on, but not this girl—Naomi was in far too powerless a position in too many ways for him to go that route.

She was desperate for a job, poor, alone.

It sounded like she had no one but her old roommate, and now she was trapped in his home, surrounded by people who worked for him.

She had no one on her side.

Well, he was determined to put his libido in check and be on her side. Be at her side in as many ways as he could conjure.

He wasn’t going to seduce her, but he wanted to get to know her better, and somehow let her know that she wasn’t alone.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing it, but he was going to keep her with him as much as he could.

If he knew what was good for himself, he’d forget everything he felt and set her up somewhere where she could have a steady income—some job away from him and his burning needs—but the ache in his chest at the thought of not having her near him let him know right away he wouldn’t do that.

Why torture himself by not seeing her again?

He grinned to himself.

Michael, if you could only see me now.

His cousin would probably say some junk about fate; in fact, he’d proudly try to take credit.

He wouldn’t blame his cousin; after all, their paths might not have crossed had he not left the building yesterday. Or were they doomed to meet, one way or another?

In any case, whatever he was falling into with her now, he was going with it.

Chapter 9

Naomi

Naomi awoke to her blaring phone alarm, and fear took over her as she registered the unfamiliar room.

Then when she remembered where she was, a number of emotions assaulted her.

She tried to pick through them as she turned her alarm off, but she noticed a text message that suddenly grabbed her entire focus.

Seriously? the text from Jenna read.

A ball of dread formed in her stomach as Naomi imagined Jenna’s face once she found the note she’d left her.

She knew she had to touch base with her best friend and ex-roommate soon, and that they probably had a little more to deal with than a returned key, but she certainly had no time for Jenna today considering her busy schedule.

She made a mental note to try to arrange a meet-up with her on one of her breaks.

Though it was Naomi’s second day on the job, it was her first day starting from inside the home, and Kevin had her on a tight schedule so she started to get ready immediately.

She was filled with apprehension as she showered, unsure how her interactions with her boss would go.

She thought he might start to hit on her, and kept imagining various scenarios—plotting out how to respond, how to turn him down and discourage him without getting herself fired.

Was he going to invite her to lunch? Dinner?

Breakfast was served seven to seven thirty a.m., and she found herself eating alone in the time allotted, then she had to help with cleanup before reporting to Kevin’s office to see if he needed anything.

But Jeffrey intercepted her, letting her know she’d be working closely with the chef that day.

Before she knew it, she was helping to prepare lunch, and her day was almost halfway over.

Luckily, lunch was not a solitary affair—since they were also going about various tasks in the main house, Naomi was able to sit and mingle with the other workers.

All the while she couldn’t help wondering about Kevin—had he asked for his food to be delivered to his office? Why hadn’t he required her to bring it?

Was he deliberately avoiding her?

Had he remembered he was dealing with gum that got stuck to his shoe?

She started to feel silly about her earlier fears.

When Jeffrey asked her to take coffee up to the office, her heart leapt with excitement, and she realized how much she’d been longing to see Kevin.

But to her dismay, he wasn’t in the office when she arrived, and she placed the coffee down, her shoulders drooping in disappointment.

To her utter relief, he crossed her path as her official shift ended, and she was floored by the joy she felt seeing his face and his familiar tall, strong frame.

But the interaction was quick, and he didn’t even stop walking when he said,

“I’d like to hear about today. Meet me for dinner at seven.”

“Yes, Mr. Davenport,” she said, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the huge grin from taking over her face.

She noticed no reaction from him, though his mouth twitched a little and light seemed to pass across his eyes as he continued on his way.

Her anxiety was now a happy anticipation.

She was officially off for the day, and she now had a good chunk of time to call and talk to Jenna, but the dread she felt at the thought of doing so stopped her cold.

She didn’t want to ruin her mood—she was looking forward to communing with Mr. Davenport once again and she didn’t want to show up with heavy energy.

She went to her room to wait the time out, and again she thought about the various possibilities for reactions should he go too far.

She had already figured out how to stop him from walking her to her bedroom after dinner again—not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid of herself.

She wanted him, and no matter how many ways she tried to reason herself out of the almost-crippling need she felt for him, her body wanted no part of her brain’s logic.

Dinnertime arrived quickly once she’d showered and gotten ready, and her heart pounded the whole way to the dining room.

She smiled wide when she saw him, and when he indicated the seat next to him again, she happily went to it, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear the thumping organ in her chest.

He didn’t say anything until the first course was brought to them, but his eyes never left her, even as he took a sip of his drink, and she wriggled under it, averting her eyes and thankful for the distraction of the food before them.

Had she not worked with the chef today, she would have had no idea what she was about to eat, but she looked forward to trying the seared Foie Gras with Soup Dumplings.

As he picked up his fork, Kevin opened his mouth to speak, and her heart picked up rhythm.

Luckily, he kept the conversation neutral and let her do most of the talking.

She found herself telling him a little more about her life growing up, sharing a few stories from her time with foster parents.

He seemed to listen intently to everything she had to say, and his follow-up questions almost always guaranteed that she ended up telling him a little more than she had intended.

She was relieved to see that he never looked disgusted by what she was—a balled up piece of paper left behind in an old, abandoned warehouse.

He never seemed uneasy with someone so far beneath his class at all, and for that, she didn’t mind when she told him a little too much; he didn’t make her feel exposed.

“So what do you like to do? When you’re not working?” he asked, his face neutral as their dessert arrived, this time a chocolate soufflé.

She shrugged and gave the only answer she could give.

“Read,” she said.

He nodded in understanding, his face relaxing into a hint of a smile.

“I figured,” he said.

She paused her next scoop. “What do you mean?”

“The way you speak—it’s not usual for your generation.”

Her generation? Sheesh, it’s not like he was decades older than her—he was in his early thirties at most.

“My usual personal assistant—she’s about your age, and as competent and delightful as she is at her job, she doesn’t speak like you. Then again, I suppose she hasn’t had much opportunity to show me her conversational skills as it is strictly business,” he said, almost as if to himself as he looked away, seeming lost in thought for a moment. “We have curt, to-the-point interactions.” Then he brought his eyes back up to her. “Anyway, I’ve heard other eighteen to twenty-four-year-olds—they don’t tend to use words like ‘gumption,’ and phrases like ‘it’s not all that taxing.’ The way you speak is sort of formal, which caught me off guard, as I’m aware of your background, and I know your schooling stopped after twelfth grade, yet your analytic skills and vocabulary, and even the way you phrase things is not usual.”

“Well, I may not have grown up with much, but libraries are always free.”

“Did you want to go to college?”

“Yes, and I have tried to go and applied for scholarships and even won a few before, but the funds were never enough. My plan was to work for a while and squirrel away funds while I applied to as many as I could, in hopes of enrolling as soon as possible. Well, when I first ‘graduated’ from the group home, I didn’t know what I didn’t know and didn’t have much guidance. I did check out some reference books in the library, but soon, other needs became far more pressing, and I found myself in a demanding routine of working to pay the basics. I kept trying to save, but things always came up, and time flew by.”

She shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter, going back to her food.

“So how close are you? Do you think you’ll be ready to attend this fall or next?”

She noticed his face had sort of flattened into something she couldn’t read.

She knew it was too late for the upcoming fall, but it was certainly her goal to try to get in by the next. It was over a year away—surely she could get everything together by then.

“Well, it’s June now, and enrollment periods have long closed. I suppose I could still try to slip in and hope the waiting list isn’t long since people do drop out, but I’m still not ready in any way. I know it’s not too late, and I haven’t given up on it, and the opportunity you’ve given me here will help me get there with no worries. So yes—definitely next fall. I’ll be twenty-two by then, but it should still be easy enough to blend in—to some degree.”

“Do you have any preferences for where you want to go?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He looked thoughtful, and she wanted so badly to ask what was on his mind.

“Small campus or large?”

“I feel like I would be more comfortable on a smaller campus—I’m usually more comfortable with fewer people are around.”

His eyebrows raised, but he said nothing.

“I don’t mean anything by that—it’s just…I’m an introvert. I’m not into parties and social gatherings—they take way too much out of me. Some people get energized by such interactions, and others get drained by it, like me. I prefer one-on-one interactions, and I don’t enjoy small talk with people I’m not likely to see again or develop any sort of relationship with. People can’t seem to help taking it personally when I turn down outings, and it’s totally not personal. It’s just extremely awkward and uncomfortable, and why torture myself?”

He seemed to be holding in a laugh.

“Glad I amused you,” she said softly, flashing him a smile.

“I will assume this evening was not torture for you since it has been one-on-one, and we’ve avoided talks of ‘who wore it best.’”

Naomi giggled.

The only torture was having him so close to her, looking that handsome, smelling that heavenly, and not being able to touch him to know for sure how his body feels against hers.

“This…” she said, indicating the dinner table then the two of them, “is perfect.”

Her cheeks flushed when she realized what she’d said—pretty much exactly what she meant, but when she glanced up at him, he didn’t seem to read too deeply into her words.

She let out a small breath of relief.

Chapter 10

Naomi

The days flew by and Naomi soon felt silly about her initial apprehension about Kevin crossing the line between them.

Every night so far, he asked her to join him for dinner, and as suspicious as she had been after their first night, he only asked her about her day and she told him about her errands, what new vegetable she’d been enlightened her about—the various ways it could be used and how it was going to be used in their dinner that night.

She started to think she had made things up about the way he had looked at her the first night, about how many seconds he had stood at her threshold watching her.

It must’ve been just a second of making sure everything was all right with her before he took off—not like he was aching to cross that threshold and take her in his arms at all.

Though it had only been a few days since she started, and she enjoyed their dinners immensely, she still couldn’t help wondering, Was this daily evaluation usually required? If so, for how long? A week?

She wasn’t all that experienced or knowledgeable in the ways of the filthy rich, and she knew she was Kevin’s personal assistant of sorts, but weren’t they getting a bit too up close and personal? Was this normal?

She wanted to ask him, but she didn’t want to upset him and risk losing the perk—the food was amazing, and she enjoyed spending time with him.

But she was getting more and more uncomfortable with how she felt about him, and the intimacy of talking to him about her life made it all worse.

She trusted him more than she should, and she sometimes overshared.

Today, like every other day so far, she excitedly went about her day in tingling anticipation of dinner with him that evening and she couldn’t help it.

“Is something bothering you?” he suddenly asked as the main course was set before them.

Once again, she found herself unable to hide or lie to him.

“Sort of,” she said to her horror.

“What is it?”

“I just…is it normal for your personal assistants to have dinner with you every night?”

His mouth quirked with a tiny smile.

“No,” he said. “I must admit, I find myself enjoying your company very much, and I’ve grown sort of used to you already; your presence is a comfort to me. But if you’re uncomfortable with it, we can stop, of course. I will make arrangements for you to join the others in the servants’ quarters for dinner instead.”

“You know that’s not fair; your food is better, I’m sure,” she said lightly, her heart dropping at his suggestion, and not because of the slight inconvenience of having to walk a little further for dinner.

The other pros and cons were obvious: she had the boss’s ear directly for a long period of time, and she enjoyed his company as well.

There was only one con to eating with him: her ever-growing attraction to him; she enjoyed his company a little too much.

But there was no way she could tell him that.

He smiled a brief, social smile.

“The food is good over there as well, and the company. The other women like you, and you perhaps have more in common and more to talk about. I understand completely if you’d rather spend time with them.”

He was toying with her, right?

Was he actually trying to make her say out loud how much more she preferred his company over anyone’s?

Did he wanted her to admit how much his presence made her feel fulfilled?

And was she really considering giving up her perks just so she didn’t have to feel her heart beating relentlessly against her chest at his nearness?

She tried to ignore her emotions and focus on the facts to come to a sensible conclusion.

“You don’t have to decide this second, Naomi, but let me know soon—I must give the chef a heads-up. And forgive me, but I must put in a word for myself—I do prefer having company for dinner—preferably yours. I find you interesting, so it’s completely selfish on my part wanting to have you with me. But please—don’t feel bad if it makes you too uncomfortable; I won’t hold it against you. I really do understand.”

What was it he understood? The inappropriate intimacy of it? How much every moment spent with him only made her want more?

She held her tongue.

She thought again about spending at least one dinner with the older ladies, and as much as she figured it was the right thing to do, and that it could also serve to make sure they continued to have good rapport and not resent her if they hadn’t started to already—she couldn’t bear the thought of not being near Kevin and seeing his handsome face.

Maybe in a day or two.

Naomi fought the urge to call Jenna again as she settled into her bedroom for the night.

She wasn’t sure if Jenna was working a shift or not, though she had used that as an excuse for her not calling any of the past few nights, even though she knew Jenna didn’t work every night.

Her hand reached for her phone but poised midair.

She missed having someone to talk to about everything, and boy did she need someone to talk to now. Her mind was reeling.

She wanted to tell someone so badly how confused she was—how it didn’t seem like she was hired because she was needed at all.

Her hand redirected itself to the book on her nightstand instead; she had a feeling she knew what Jenna would say.

“It’s ‘cause he wants to fuck you,” she imagined Jenna saying with a straight face, totally serious.

To Jenna, that’s all every guy ever wanted. Anytime they spoke a word to you outside of giving work orders, it was to get one step closer to manipulating you into the horizontal tango—or however they wanted to position you.

“I’m just telling you like it is, girl. You’re still a virgin so you don’t know yet—you think there’s got to be more, but there isn’t. It’s biological. All they want to do is fuck.”

She had actually told Naomi this once, and Naomi had no leg to stand on when it came to their discussions about sex since she had no experience to pit against Jenna’s extensive experience.

She couldn’t argue with her, but she couldn’t buy her view just yet.

Surely, there was more? Surely there were some guys who wanted more than just finding new girls to have sex with? Why did any of them ever bother getting married then?

“So there’s a constant fuck buddy available,” Jenna had said when they’d talked about it once. “At least half of them still dip outside the marriage, but that’s for more excitement, to change things up a little. The girl they’re cheating with doesn’t even have to be all that good-looking—just different. I guarantee you that every man would have plenty of wives and concubines if we allowed them to. Some of ‘em decide it’s not worth it to lose the one they have—a sure thing—to the chance of many. I mean, sometimes guys get stuck on a girl in an emotional way, but if given the chance to fuck others while being able to keep that one, you don’t think they’d take it? Men only stay faithful if they think not doing so will cause them to lose the girl they want to own.”

To hear Jenna talk about courtship and relationships, in general, made Naomi want to keep her legs closed even tighter.

She had to be careful—she didn’t want to just hand over her virginity to some guy who’d be like, “Thanks,” and disappear—like she did him some service he didn’t even compensate her properly for.

“The worst is when you don’t even get to come,” Jenna told her more than once. “Like, what’s the fucking point then? I let you fuck me and you can’t even make sure I get to come? Nah. That’s why I’m really careful these days—I make sure to fuck only those I’m getting something out of. Even if it’s just that they’re super hot and I want to fuck ‘em anyway. That way, even if I don’t come, I get to satisfy my curiosity, and I have the memories of those abs and biceps.”

Naomi had burst out laughing then.

“So your partners are restricted to super hot guys and guys who…pay you in some way?”

“I’m no prostitute! They don’t give me money directly. I just make sure they take me to nice places and stuff like that; I at least get some good dinners and shit, or some jewelry.”

Judgment must have come over her face because Jenna quickly said, “Trust me, it’s best to get something material at least, otherwise you feel real bad when you end up with nothing when they take off. Like, you seriously feel robbed sometimes—I’m not kidding you. Like they should get some jail time for theft. Do you know how many times I wished I could take the pussy back somehow? But no, you can’t. They got you. They busted a nut, and they’re moving on to the next girl who just lets ‘em bust a nut and they’ve forgotten all about you. They get away with whatever you let ‘em get away with, and when it comes to sex, they always get what they want: to bust a nut, so you have to take what you need from them while you can. That’s why I’m perfectly happy to do what I’m doing. Might as well get something from them I can use in exchange for them getting to look at all this.”

She had slowly moved her hands down over her boobs then down to her ass, shaking it a little once she reached it, and again making Naomi giggle.

Naomi smiled at the memory as she flipped open her book to the bookmark.

She tried to focus—tried not to think about her best friend being on the verge of literally getting paid to have sex on video.

Her fingers itched to call Jenna again, but she talked herself out of it.

Jenna was a big girl.

She also didn’t need to talk to Jenna about her own changed life.

What would be the point?

It would probably end up sounding like a brag—how much she was getting paid to do so little.

Plus, she had little to no interaction with others, and she didn’t have to smile all the time or deal with people who couldn’t make up their damned mind about a mocha or latte, or who asked for gluten-free bagels.

Overall, she was happy—no need to rub it in Jenna’s face.

Her living quarters were delicious, the free cooking lessons and tips she got from professional cooks were delicious, the food was ridiculously delicious, and her boss was utterly scrumptious.

She let out a breath.

That was the only problem—she didn’t know what her boss was really up to, and she couldn’t prepare for it.

What did he really want?

Surely just some company at dinner wasn’t all.

Chapter 11

Naomi

Wardrobe notes?

Naomi frowned as she read the note shoved under her door—most likely left by Jeffrey.

She was required to dress very casually today—even more-so than before, and she giggled at the pictorial examples of what her outfit was to be like.

Did she even have anything like that?

She went to the closet to see if something was hiding in there and realized that, at some point, someone had added a few new outfits and shoes to it—probably when she was at dinner.

She picked out an appropriate outfit easily, wondering what Kevin was up to.

Why did she have to look so sporty?

She wondered if it had anything to do with it being a Saturday—was this required weekend wear?

The note also said to meet Mr. Davenport at breakfast at eight today, an hour later than the usual time, and she almost didn’t know what to do with the extra time she’d been given.

She ended up getting there before him, unable to sit still in her room any longer.

He greeted her with a bright “Good morning, Naomi!” and she couldn’t help smiling wide at his boyish enthusiasm.

He sat down, and breakfast was put in front of them, still steaming.

Before he dug in, he checked out her outfit and nodded his approval.

She tried to ignore the way his eyes traveled over her exposed skin.

She’d never worn shorts around him before and felt exposed.

She looked at him questioningly as he took a swig of orange juice.

“I need to clear my head and get some exercise in,” he began.

She nodded, wondering what it had to do with her.

“I’m going to play some squash and I’d like to bring you, my personal assistant, along in case I need someone to grab lemonade or something.”

“Oh,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

She stared down at the breakfast quiche, not really seeing it.

His silence made her look back up, and she realized he was staring at her, his eyes almost shimmering with suppressed laughter, his mouth failing to stay neutral as it twitched with his amusement.

“I’m not serious about that,” he said, finally letting out a full smile. “One of the reasons I want to bring you along is because when you said you weren’t good at anything, I took that as a challenge. Have you ever played squash before?”

She shook her head.

She didn’t know a thing beyond squash the vegetable, which Chef Manuel, or “Manny” as Kevin called him, had been teaching her about just the other day.

“Well, it’s a two- to four-player game, and since I’m not up for doubles, it’s just you and me; I need a partner to bounce off of.”

“But surely, there are others you can play with who actually know what they’re doing?”

Who did he normally play with, for crying out loud?

“It’s not about that. I told you—I want to see what you’ve got. I don’t believe you’re as talentless as you say you are.”

She shrugged and stuffed a bite of the quiche in her mouth.

“Well, don’t say you haven’t been warned.”

“Not bad,” Kevin said as they finished their final game, both sweaty and energized by their matches.

She gave him a look she knew communicated just how full of shit she thought he was.

“Told ya,” she said as she gave up her racquet. “I’m not particularly athletic.”

“You know, I’m going to surprise you, Naomi. You’ll find out you have a knack for things in unexpected places—you’ll see. In fact, I’d like you to come with me tomorrow as well. This is not a demand or order—I know Sunday is your day off and I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted to relax and fly through a few books.”

Like a date? she wondered.

“Not like a date,” he said as if reading her mind—or the face she’d been told was so expressive. “I’m inviting you as a friend. I have a low-key activity planned, and I want you to be a part of it. It’s another thing that requires a bit of skill—another learning opportunity. You up for the challenge?”

How could she refuse him with that playful tone and a wink like that?

Still, she couldn’t help asking, “But what is it?”

“Nope!” he said with an impish grin. “It’s a surprise. You’ll have to trust me.”

He waggled his eyebrows so ridiculously, she burst into laughter.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said to her in a voice more gentle than she thought he was capable of.

Afraid? She’d witnessed brutal fights almost to the death between angry teenage boys built like burly men, and she’d survived a holdup at one of the fast food places she used to work at.

Why would she be afraid of mounting a horse?

It was a beautiful, sunny day with clear skies, and with yards of uninterrupted terrain before her, a professional instructor patiently guiding her every step of the way, and Kevin’s calm, supportive voice in her ear—she had no need to fear.

But she couldn’t fool herself; she was terrified.

Horses looked so peaceful and majestic on T.V.

In person, the sheer size of the mahogany creature put her on edge.

It was a real, live animal—a large one that could decide it didn’t like her and throw her off then trample her if it wanted to.

It was a living, breathing thing with unpredictable reactions and responses and heft on its side.

But the instructor walked her through, kept her calm, and soon, she was sitting astride it and delight sat along her trepidation.

She looked forward to the new experience.

It was only her first time, and she enjoyed the adventure, but nothing had clicked—she was no natural.

“I suppose competitive horse riding is not in my future either,” she said to Kevin as they got ready to leave.

He shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Well,” he said in a voice as if finally giving up on her, “Manny said you have a knack for unique seasoning ideas, so…”

She shoved him like she’d shove any teasing friend, and he smiled warmly, right before grabbing her to him and going in for a kiss.

The only reaction she had time for was to melt into it, disbelieving that after all the days and nights she imagined what it would be like to be held in his strong arms, his lips against hers, here it was.

Their tongues met and danced, but suddenly, he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking pained as his hold on her slackened.

His eyes were still closed, as if trying to block her out.

She watched his struggle, searching for the proper words to respond with.

All she wanted was to feel his lips again, but instead, she just held on to him since he hadn’t completely let her go.

Finally, she said, “I’m not sorry, Kevin. I’m not sorry at all.”

His eyes opened and he smiled at her, his face transforming with gentleness and affection.

“I’ll miss you at dinner tonight,” he said, squeezing her hand.

Naomi had finally been able to reach Jenna two days before, and she was glad they were finally getting the formalities of her exit out of the way.

She was relieved Kevin was letting her use her work car as a personal car as well; in fact, he had refused to give her access to her old car.

“It’s parked until you’re ready to move on and leave me behind. We’ll have it fixed up good and new for you so the other college kids won’t laugh at you.”

When she first told him she had planned to meet up with Jenna that evening as they got up from the breakfast table, he asked her why her voice was so heavy.

“Is she mad at you for the last-minute notice?”

She had nodded, yet when she looked up at him, he had a question in his eyes but said no more about it.

And now, the closer she got to their agreed-upon location, the dread in her stomach grew.

Jenna had initially proposed they meet at the coffee shop she used to work at, and she decided to let her know exactly why it was a bad idea.

In the note she’d left, she had only told her she’d found a new place to live—not that she had gotten fired and now had a new job. And certainly not that she was living where she worked.

Jenna knew nothing of her new life at all, and it felt strange to have her so abruptly shut out.

Naomi expected to see a glowering Jenna, or a slightly peeved-looking Jenna, but what she met instead was a neutral, guarded Jenna.

When Jenna spotted her, she got up from her seat and they hugged each other as usual, but there was no warmth in it—not on Jenna’s part, at least.

But Naomi wasn’t surprised.

Jenna shoved the book she’d accidentally left behind toward her, and Naomi took it, then pulled out her old keys and handed them over.

Jenna had insisted over the phone that Naomi didn’t owe her any money—even though Naomi hadn’t even given her a proper thirty-day notice.

Jenna told her to forget about it; she would find another roommate in no time.

“So. New job, huh?” Jenna began. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, I work in a sort of domestic capacity…”

“Oh, a maid, huh? Look at you—moving on up in the world.”

Naomi curbed her irritation.

“Not a maid exactly—although that’s sort of what I thought at first. I just help this guy out at home. Well, not just some guy—he’s some really rich guy with a mansion and a number of personal workers, and I’m sort of a personal assistant to him and the household. I help out with things like…”

At some point, she realized she had been babbling and flushed with embarrassment.

She also realized Jenna’s eyes hadn’t warmed up, though she had some semblance of a smile on her face.

“Well, you’re certainly glowing, so I’m guessing this rich guy’s pretty hot. Where do you live now?”

Naomi hesitated before answering. “At his estate. He has these sort of servant quarters,” she said quickly.

Naomi felt guilty for the implied lie, but no way was she telling Jenna she was staying in a guest bedroom.

“Whoa. How convenient for you! So he helped you make good on your word, huh? As soon as possible.” Jenna’s smile widened briefly, but her eyes still looked cold. “Gotta say, Naomi—I still think it was a dick move, leaving me like that.”

“Really, Jen? Considering what happened? Look, I know it was sudden, but can you blame me? You disregarding my safety the way you did—now that was a dick move, I’d say. I love you, Jenna, but I need to feel secure.”

Jenna’s fake, snarling smile returned.

“Is that what you’re up to then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you’re working for some super-rich guy now—is he your ticket out? You finally joined the ranks of sugar babies and let him fuck you for security? What do you wear to work, I wonder? How much is your allowance?”

Naomi suppressed her rage.

“It’s not like that, Jenna.”

“You expect me to believe that? You should see the way your eyes have been lighting up talking about him, the smiles you keep trying to hide. He’s keeping you happy somehow.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Does he have a huge dick?”

“Jenna! For your information, I’m still a virgin!”

“Not for long, honey. Look, I gotta go. Congrats on moving on up, and welcome to the ranks. I’ll see you around.”

Jenna grabbed her bag and left just as her order arrived, leaving Naomi dumbfounded, her mind reeling.

Was Jenna right? Everything Kevin…Mr. Davenport had been doing for her was just to get in her pants after all?

Sure, she’d felt like her services weren’t really needed, but he had given her a job out of the kindness of his heart, right? He had looked so sorry for her.

But the facts didn’t escape her—there he was, requiring her to have dinner with him every night, and most recently inviting her out with him for various activities. Dating-type activities.

My goodness, he had tricked her!

He’d initially said he wasn’t that kind of guy, that he didn’t see her that way, but it was a lie—he was slowly turning into an escort.

He’d been pretty slick about it so far, but the proof was in the pudding: he was paying her to be with him; he was turning her into a high-class whore.

She saw his game clearly now; everything he’d done so far was just to get her in bed, no matter how affectionately he seemed to look at her at times.

Perhaps she’d hurt his pride the day she cussed him out, and she presented a challenge he wanted to take on.

Perhaps he was planning to make her pay for sassing off to him. He was going to prove to her that he could have anything he wanted.

He’d been paying a pretty penny for it so far—although, to him it was probably like tossing a quarter in a beggar’s cup—but what it all boiled down to was that he basically paid to kiss her earlier that day, and no doubt, he had plans for more.

Well, she refused to be a high-class whore; she would not be paid for her companionship and her body.

Jenna was absolutely right—the way she’d seen him looking at her, he’ll want more than a kiss soon, and she wasn’t quite ready to give it to him.

She had to find a way to enforce boundaries; she must refuse him somehow.

But could she?

At the thought of icing him out, something else raged inside her; a battle between opposing forces waged.

She acknowledged that she felt a stirring for him she’d never felt before.

She had experienced a bout of puppy love in her teens, but in no way did it compare to the turmoil swirling in her now—the way her heart pounded, the way her breath quickened at the sight, sound, or smell of him. The way she longed to see him, have him take her against him and…

She shook her head.

She couldn’t afford to be indulging in these thoughts—she had to keep him at arms’ length for her own sake.

A man like him was used to getting everything he wanted, and once he got her, no doubt he’d get bored and toss her aside at some point.

She couldn’t let that happen—she had to protect her heart and her sanity. She couldn’t let some gorgeous billionaire ruin her.

Come Monday morning, she needed to be back to all professional, all the time.

Chapter 12

Kevin

Kevin had dinner delivered to his office since Naomi wasn’t joining him.

He hadn’t seen her all day, and he had been looking forward to their Monday night dinner, but she had mumbled something about preferring to finish a book she had started instead.

“But tomorrow, then?” he had asked, and she said, “Actually, I meant to catch up on something else I’ve been putting off.”

He suddenly realized what was going on.

Despite what she’d said right after, she did regret their kiss.

He cursed himself.

Had he pushed too far too fast? Should he apologize? Or should he simply keep inviting her till she gave in? Maybe even demand her presence, remind her who was boss?

He shook his head.

No way he’d want to push her further away.

But he’d have to figure out something—the distance she seemed to be set on putting between them was maddening.

He’d never had to deal with this—in fact, he was the one who had to put the brakes on at times; getting past first base was never a concern for him.

But it wasn’t just that he wanted to sleep with Naomi.

He wanted to forge a different kind of connection with her, sure—but he wanted her to feel more connected to him so she’d want to stay with him.

He wanted to eventually move her from that guest bedroom to his own bedroom.

He sighed.

Whatever that meant.

She just seemed like she belonged in his life, and he was afraid to look deeper than that.

He decided he was probably just in his coupling season—that, as usual, after a period of playing the field and bouncing from one casual fling to the next, he had come back around to feeling the need to have the same girl around for a little longer than a few days or so, and Naomi happened to be the one his cock was gravitating toward for a longer term this time around.

He probably wanted her even more than usual because she kept playing so hard to get.

That had to be it.

The next day, when his father called and told him he was popping by that evening, he felt only relief.

The thought of another dinner alone, especially after having gotten so used to Naomi’s warm, delightful presence, had left him filled with anxious, confusing feelings.

What was wrong with him? He’d had countless dinners alone before; in fact, he usually preferred it!

And now, even though his father gave him a headache just seeing his name pop up on his cell, here he was, actually happy to have the void Naomi had left somewhat filled by his dad’s overbearing presence.

“I hope you don’t mind I brought Susan along?” his father said with a grin while Kevin tried not to stare in horror at his ex-girlfriend as they entered his home.

Immediately, dread filled his stomach.

“Not at all,” he said in his practiced neutral voice. “You guys got here right on time—Manny was just about to serve.” He turned to Susan.

“Susan, good to see you.” He leaned in to offer a quick hug, and despite the distance he tried to keep in the embrace, she squeezed him closer to her and even kissed him on the cheek.

“My darling, it’s great to see you. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it? Sorry for the surprise—Conan insisted you wouldn’t mind.”

Kevin bit his tongue.

How would his father know how he’d feel since he hadn’t brought it up?

Of course, he knew the answer to that.

His father didn’t actually care—he had a mission, and he’d do anything to see it through.

They proceeded to the dining room, and Kevin’s mind was in turmoil.

He knew his father had liked Susan for him—in fact, he’d originally set them up—and Kevin only stayed with her as long as he did because of that, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

His father had laughed at him cruelly when he’d said that.

“Meant to be? Have you been hanging out with Michael too much lately? Do you think your mother and I were meant to be? Such nonsense—you only need to be suited to each other, be on the same level when it comes to certain things. Susan is a lovely, smart woman with excellent connections and a fine upbringing. You won’t find a better match.”

Kevin had disagreed but didn’t bother saying anything else—he obviously couldn’t change his father’s mind.

“I’m not done playing the field, Father,” he had said instead.

He knew it was the only thing his father would forgive him and drop the matter for.

“I certainly understand that, son. You’re still fairly young and gifted with a face that melts undies off, I’m sure. But don’t wait too long. Susan is willing to let you take all the time you need.”

Kevin thought the matter had been dropped, especially since so many months had passed, but clearly, he was wrong.

NAOMI

Naomi distinctly heard several voices—including a female one—and curiosity seized her.

Who was there?

Of course, she couldn’t just leave her room and introduce herself—she knew better than that; domestics were to be seen not heard. Ha! Barely even seen.

But curiosity was absolutely killing her.

She could just go for water…

No, she had a little refrigerator with water in it; she needed a better excuse.

She let out a breath.

If she had just been in the servants’ quarters, she never would have even known and been put in this position.

She tried to open her door just a little and peek—the visitors hadn’t traveled out of eyesight just yet.

She noticed pairs of eyes shift in her direction and immediately pushed the door closed as quietly as she could, her heart pounding.

She hoped she hadn’t been seen, although the fact that she was able to see them had to mean they’d caught a glimpse of her?

She really didn’t want to anger Kevin.

If he confronted her about it, she would tell him she’d gotten a craving for seedless grapes and had earbuds in when she opened her door.

As her breathing eventually slowed, she thought about what she’d seen—a woman with long, impossibly straight blond hair, and an older man—a man who looked like he could have been Kevin’s father—they had the same jawline and similar frames, though the older man had streaks of grey in his otherwise thick, dark, wavy hair.

Maybe the blonde was a relative as well?

She sure hoped so.

She tried to get back into her book as she snuggled into the bed, but she couldn’t concentrate so she put the book down.

She went to the desktop computer Jeffrey had brought in for her the day after she had a conversation with Kevin and mentioned never owning a computer, using library ones for all her internet needs instead.

She tried to distract herself by surfing the net.

A few minutes later, she jumped when she heard a soft knock on the door.

Her heart thumped hard against her chest, but she smiled, thinking it was probably Kevin checking up on her.

But when she pulled the door open, she saw the tall, slender blonde standing there with a fake smile on her face.

Her green eyes reminded her of Jenna’s; in fact, had Jenna been born to a different set of parents, she probably would have cleaned up just as nicely.

“Oh, hello,” the woman said as if she was the one who’d been suddenly interrupted.

“Hello,” Naomi replied neutrally, not pulling the door completely open.

“I thought I saw this door open earlier.” Her eyes raked over Naomi from head to toe. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Naomi wasn’t sure how to respond.

She didn’t like the woman’s tone—the sense of entitlement in it, like Naomi owed her as much information as she wanted to extract.

Then again, Naomi still didn’t know if the woman was someone close to Kevin or not and didn’t want to risk being offensive. She was still just ‘the help’ after all.

“I’m Naomi, and I work for Mr. Davenport,” she said carefully.

“What are you doing in this room? There are servants’ quarters for workers. Why are you here? And don’t make me have to ask it again—it’s a simple question. Is Kevin fucking you?”

Naomi had been about to answer her first question, but at the follow-up, she slammed the door in the woman’s face and locked it, rage coursing through her.

Fuck her, whoever she was. Let her get her answers from Kevin.

Naomi would just have to deal with him later.

Naomi tried to distract herself by the internet again, but curiosity got the better of her once more.

She heard the raised feminine voice, but she couldn’t hear what it was saying, so she cracked open her door, feeling sure everyone was in the dining room and no one would spot her this time.

“…but to have her sleeping in the main house?” the woman’s shrill voice said. “Why is she here if she’s just your personal assistant? Control yourself, Kevin—at least enforce the proper boundaries. Have her in your bed or let her stay with the servants where she belongs; the in-between is spineless…”

The two continued going back and forth while Naomi’s heart sank further and further as she heard his responses.

She understood why Mr. Davenport was downplaying their relationship, stripping it down to the barest of terms, but it still hurt like hell.

Good thing it was happening now rather than later when she might have gotten even more entangled.

And to think she’d been on the verge of giving him her virginity!

Thanks to the mystery blonde—although it was quite clear by now she was a former flame—Naomi had been quite solidly reminded of her place.

The woman was pretty much the opposite of her in every possible way and obviously more familiar with his world. That tall, slim, blond, green-eyed woman was expert at squash and horse-riding, no doubt.

How could Naomi have thought for a second Kevin might have taken her seriously?

He was hoping to make her one of many concubines, no doubt.

Either way, it was clear she didn’t belong there, and she felt depressingly silly for letting herself tumble into a ridiculous fantasy.

Chapter 13

Kevin

Kevin knew he should have known better when Susan said she was going to the bathroom and she’d been gone for over five minutes.

All during their relationship, she had avoided giving the impression that she ever did anything more than tinkle, so he should have immediately known she was up to some mischief.

When she returned to the dining room, her face was red and pinched tight in outrage and he figured that, somehow, she had crossed paths with Naomi.

He wasn’t sure how, but it obviously hadn’t gone well.

As she bit out words about Naomi’s insubordination, then escalated when he tried to brush it off and change the subject, he was reminded how he’d dodged a bullet yet again.

“This is one of the many reasons why you and I couldn’t go much further,” he said matter-of-factly to her at some point, and her mouth dropped open a little, then moved like fish’s, like she was struggling to get a response out.

He could see by her eyes that he’d hurt a little, and he knew his father was staring daggers at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything to appease either her or him, angry that she’d had the nerve to come into his home and pry into his business, imposing her opinions on how he ran his household.

Her presence had, no doubt, upset Naomi, and she was all he could think about now, and he couldn’t wait for them both to leave.

He didn’t have to wait for long.

Not finding a reply for him, Susan turned to his father, quickly composing herself.

“I didn’t expect to get embarrassed here, and I appreciate you bringing me, but Kevin obviously hasn’t grown up yet and is not ready for anything serious. He’s not even gentleman enough to apologize to me when he should…”

“What is it I’m supposed to be apologizing for again? You’ve come into my home unannounced, and my chef and I have graciously accommodated you, then you disturb my worker, who I’m guessing was minding her own business. You’ve generally caused a disturbance in my otherwise peaceful household, and you might like drama, Susan, but drama has no place here. Father, please don’t bring her back to my home.”

“You certainly won’t have to worry about that,” she said, and like the dear he was, Jeffrey was already waiting with her coat by the time she grabbed her purse.

His father shot him a withering glance before standing to accompany Susan out of his home.

Kevin wasn’t sure if his father would bother trying to talk to him later tonight or the next day, or even in the next few months or so—they barely spoke to each other months at a time as it was—and right now, Kevin welcomed what he expected would be a long period of silence between them once again.

He was surprised by the lack of anxiety he felt over his father’s response, the absence of a need to find a way to soothe and appease him.

The only person he wanted to soothe and appease was Naomi—and he waited for the door to close as Jeffrey escorted the unexpected guests out before heading to her room.

He had to make sure she was okay.

He knocked lightly on the door.

She opened it a little, then all the way once she saw him but stood in place as if barring him from entering.

Not that he was expecting her to invite him in.

“I’m sorry about that, Naomi,” he began. “Susan was way out of line coming to your room like that and making demands…”

“But she was right, though, wasn’t she? The proper boundaries are not in place here—it’s all very confusing and it’s unfair to me as your subordinate.”

For some reason, the word wounded him. He didn’t think of her that way at all, no matter how technically correct it was.

“Look, I just came here to work for you,” she continued, “not to be some easy notch on your belt, and I don’t understand why you’d even prey on me when you have so many women like Susan who’d be glad to be on your arm and available all the time.”

“Because I don’t want any of them, Naomi—I want you.”

She let out a dry chuckle.

“Oh boy—player extraordinaire dropping the most basic lines on his most basic intended catch…”

“Please stop talking about yourself like that, Naomi.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? I bet Susan has, like, four degrees. I bet she knows all about which fork to use and when—if she even eats.”

Kevin had to hold in a laugh.

Susan was thin, but my god, she wasn’t that thin.

“I bet she…”

Kevin couldn’t help it—he grabbed Naomi to him before she could say another word and held her tightly in his arms. Her self-deprecating tone was killing him.

“I don’t want Susan, Naomi,” he said, emphasizing each word. “Is that not clear? I’m no longer with her, and I want nothing to do with her ever again. You, however— you do something to me, Naomi, and I can’t pin it down, but all I want is you; I want you in every way. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I’m addicted to looking into those warm brown eyes of yours, I long for the moment your mouth breaks into a smile. I love to hear you talk about your past, your future. I want…”

He stopped, feeling something in his chest start to open alarmingly.

Something was getting out of his control.

He took a few deep breaths.

“I’m not trying to just use you, Naomi, because that would mean hurting you, and I may be unclear on a lot things, but I’m absolutely clear on this—hurting you is the last thing I want to do.”

Her big brown eyes raised to his, glistening with tears, and he lost it—he brought his lips down on hers and started devouring her.

Whatever dam he’d been trying to keep in place burst, and before he knew it, he was lifting her up and transporting her to the bed.

He started in on her neck, his dick hardening more with every gasp and moan that left her as he kissed and tasted her with his tongue, despite the decidedly unsexy pajamas she was wearing.

He couldn’t wait to tear them off of her.

Only when he moved to kiss her lips again did he realize tears were streaming down her face.

“Naomi, what is it?” he said, staring at her, his heart pounding, his cock demanding he continue.

But he ignored them both, focusing intently on the soft, warm beauty beneath him.

He started pulling away a bit in case he was frightening her.

“I understand if you’re not ready, Naomi. I’m not trying to…take you if you’re not. I respect you and any decision you make. I…” I can’t imagine my life without you now, and if I have to wait, I will.

“No, it’s just…more than anything, I want you to continue. I want you so much, it hurts.”

He was surprised his dick didn’t actually rip his pants then, like some obscene Incredible Hulk.

He didn’t doubt he’d take her hard and fast once he got to that point—his control was slipping away from him.

He wanted to sink himself deep inside her, get to know the warm, wet crevice waiting to enclose him.

He wanted to place his lips on every part of her body, but he knew he didn’t have the patience for a slow savoring—not tonight.

Maybe he’d get to suck on her succulent breasts for a bit before…

“Kevin, you must know something,” he heard her say, although it was barely a whisper.

His eyes went to her face.

“I…” Her voice cracked. “I’m a virgin.”

Kevin froze in place for several moments, unsure how to proceed.

He suddenly understood a lot of her hesitance and fear, but his dick wasn’t getting any less demanding. He still wanted her so badly, he was afraid he’d hurt her.

It also heavily impressed upon him the gift she was offering him.

She had chosen him for this pivotal moment in her life, she was allowing him to forge a definitive place in her history.

“Naomi,” he groaned, knowing there was no way he was going to stop, but that he had to find every bit of strength in himself to take care of her tonight and be as gentle as he possibly could.

He didn’t want to hurt her—especially since he doubted this was the only time they’d indulge—and he needed to get her ready for him in every way in order to succeed.

Besides, she was trusting him, and he needed to be worthy of that trust.

He unbuttoned her pajama top and was surprised to see the bra underneath.

She seemed to read his expression.

“So I don’t feel totally exposed while I’m here,” she said, looking shy.

Something clutched in his chest.

Was she really so uncomfortable sleeping under his roof?

He hadn’t realized how awkward everything must have been for her—he had truly thought he was doing her a favor. Although if he was being completely honest with himself, he had selfishly wanted her close and hadn’t tried to see her side at all.

He started unfastening her bra, his eyes on hers the whole time.

Once he helped her out of it and flung it aside, his head descended on one of her breasts, taking it gently in his mouth and fondling it with his lips. Then he teased her tip with his tongue, her nipple hardening with his warm, wet caress.

He played with her succulent swell until she guided his head to her other breast while letting out mewling sounds that almost made him come undone.

He was trying so hard to keep everything together, and despite how much those plaintive, feminine sounds gleefully rode his ear canal to his engorged dick, making it throb even more with need, he kept in mind that he needed to put her needs above all.

He moved his lips down her stomach, making her twitch with each touch of his mouth on her silky brown skin.

She started grabbing at her sheets and he had to close his eyes—he couldn’t watch her face while she was lost in sensation like that without wanting her even more and making a hasty mistake.

He slowly pulled down her matching pajama bottoms, then tossed them in the same direction as the top.

Maybe the conservative, patterned, long-sleeved nightwear should have tipped him off that he wasn’t exactly dealing with an experienced girl.

If he had known beforehand what he was working with, he could have kept his emotions in check better and wouldn’t be at risk of plunging too deep too fast.

But as it stood, he was barely holding on to a thread of control.

He pulled down her panties, and before the sight of her glistening pussy and her soft, feminine scent wafting up to him could unravel him, he buried his face between her legs, enclosing her nether lips with his mouth before beginning to tease her peaks and valleys with his tongue.

She writhed helplessly, tearing at the sheets as she twisted her body as if trying to get away from his darting tongue.

Her loud moaning nearly shattered his control completely, and he sucked and licked at her more vigorously, teasing her nub with his finger, and then with flickers of her tongue to help her get ready for him.

Her juices soaked the space beneath her, and finally, as he felt her closing in on an orgasm, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He shed his clothes in record time.

Knowing he could bring her back to the brink in no time to meet his own impending orgasm, he placed his raging cock at her dripping entrance and slowly started pushing his way in.

She was still breathing sort of hard and desperately, so he knew she hadn’t come back from the edge, and as he continued to push himself inside her, parting her impossibly tight walls, he knew neither of them were far from tumbling over that edge.

To feel his dick sinking into her moist warmth, her walls forming a slick, extra-tight sleeve, he made himself keep going until he had broken her completely in and was buried inside her to the hilt, pausing a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, he realized she was looking at him with a mixture of shock and desire and he could wait no more.

He pulled back a bit slowly, taking his first step to finding his rhythm with her.

He knew he could still hurt her if he moved too fast or suddenly thrust too hard, so he moved his cock out about halfway before pushing it back in.

He kept up the gentle rhythm for a few more strokes, then, when he felt his body begin to change pace against his will, he leaned forward to pull her neck between his lips and started fondling her wet pussy again, brushing his finger across her clit and making her contract and writhe helplessly at the teasing sensations.

He felt her nearing that edge again, and knowing there was no way he wouldn’t come with her, he started moving even faster, squeezing their bodies together hard as he pushed deep, as if trying to invade her chest cavity with his dick.

She cried out helplessly, and he felt her orgasm building, her walls gripping him even tighter, her legs wrapping around him, and it shoved him nearer to the edge.

Her moans and the beginning contractions of her orgasm finally unraveled him, and soon, he was coming inside her with final, powerful thrusts as her body continued to squeeze his erupting, throbbing cock, her juices gushing all around him and sending him to a place that could only be described as heaven.

He was reduced to sensation, his hearing as if he were on a plane and succumbing to cabin pressure, his eyes not quite working properly—darkness and stars before him as if he had over-exerted himself on a mountain hike and was about to black out.

His toes had curled so hard, he wasn’t sure they’d ever straighten out again, and Naomi’s body was holding on to him so tightly, he ridiculously thought that if he moved one muscle, his dick would break off and get stuck inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, more than happy to stay buried in her as long as he could, unwilling to leave her side overnight.

Heck, she’d be lucky to get rid of him at all after this.

Chapter 14

Naomi

Naomi never would have predicted it—her first time with a gorgeous hunk of a billionaire in a stunning mansion on the most wonderful, expansive bed she’d ever slept on?

It was unfathomable. Impossible.

Yet it had happened.

Jenna’s first time had been with some guy she met at a bar that she got into using a fake ID.

The guy didn’t even take her to a motel or anything—he just took her in his old car, promising to call the next day and never did.

“The worst part was he wasn’t even all that hot,” Jenna had said. “We had a good conversation and he seemed sort of nice and had a cool personality, so I was like, why not? Ugh! I wish I had waited.”

Jenna’s experience sure helped Naomi wait.

Then there was Melissa—another girl from their group home.

She shared having her first time under the bleachers at school.

Another girl she knew at least got to do it in bed—at the guy’s house while his parents weren’t home.

Then they had to scramble for their clothes when the parents came home sooner than expected.

Naomi stared at the beautiful, sleeping man next to her, breathing deeply and looking content.

Yup—could have been a lot worse for her.

She more than lucked out for her first time—she hit the jackpot.

Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep too, a smile on her face.

“Oh no, we missed breakfast!” Naomi said, noticing it was after eight a.m. and earning a hearty laugh from a rumpled but still beautiful Kevin.

“You do know that I’m the master of this house, right? That breakfast, lunch, dinner is whenever, wherever, and however I want it?”

Naomi felt her cheeks flush.

“My god, you’re adorable,” he said suddenly, looking at her with such intensity, her cheeks burned more.

He rolled off the bed, shamelessly naked, and extended his arm to her.

“Let’s get cleaned up and ready for breakfast.”

He glanced toward her bathroom with a sort of wary look on his face.

“Um, let’s head on up to my bathroom; the facilities are better there.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. How on earth could a bathroom possibly be any better?

She had a spacious, beautifully decorated place with a shower and tub, a shower head with various massage settings, matching towels and well-coordinated overall from the rugs to the tiles—Naomi couldn’t imagine how it could be improved.

Either way, she didn’t want to go with Kevin to his room, although she wasn’t sure exactly why.

“How about I meet you there? I need to take care of a few things and get my head straight.”

He seemed to understand.

Then he pulled her to him, bringing their naked bodies together, and he kissed her gently on the lips.

He wrapped his arms around her, and her breasts squashed against his hard chest in the heated hug.

“I know how…significant last night was,” he said, his voice low and gentle, almost like a caress.

Then he pulled away and held her chin with the tips of his fingers. “Trust me, I know.”

He seemed to want to say more but didn’t.

Finally, he let her go completely and started pulling his clothes on.

Before he left, he said, “Naomi, you will have dinner with me every night from now on, yes?”

She nodded.

“You won’t avoid me again?”

She nodded.

“Then you will trust me? If something is bothering you, you will tell me what’s on your mind and let me help you work through it?”

She nodded once more.

“Good.”

He turned to leave, then spun around once more.

“Are you still comfortable working with Manny and Jeffrey?”

Naomi thought about it.

She knew there was no way Jeffrey didn’t know what they’d done overnight. The kitchen staff no doubt knew by now too, since they hadn’t been able to serve either of them that morning.

Heck, their night had probably reached all the other workers by now, but she tried not to think about what they now thought of her; after all, this was her moment of happiness.

Finally, after everything she’d been through, good fortune was smiling on her.

She knew what she had probably wouldn’t last very long, but she came to a decision as she watched Kevin’s gorgeous sleeping form: she was going with it.

Being with a guy like him was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and she wasn’t about to look her gift horse in the mouth again; she’d enjoy every bit of being with a stunning, powerful man willing to take her with him to places she never dared to dream of going and teach her about various aspects of his world while she could.

So, yes—she was quite happy learning her way around the kitchen, getting tips from a world-class chef, free personalized instruction.

No, she didn’t mind being sent out to pick up this or drop off that—as much as she loved the mansion, she loved being able to get away from it sometimes.

And of course she had no problem bringing Kevin coffee or a sandwich or whatever Chef Manuel wanted her to take up to him.

None of her duties interfered with their changed relationship.

She loved seeing Kevin, she loved learning, and she loved having temporary moments of freedom. Everything complemented each other, actually.

Naomi found herself excited about the upcoming work week and daily outings and nightly dinners.

“I’m going to take a real vacation day today,” Kevin said as they settled in for breakfast, both freshly showered and presentable.

Naomi tried not to sound glib.

“A vacation day?” she asked.

“It’s hard to stop working sometimes. So no phone calls answered, no emails checked for at least two hours. Anyway, I’m going to take a ride on my yacht, and I want you to come with me.”

She nearly dropped her fork.

“A yacht?”

“Yes, why not?”

Naomi knew exactly what that meant—relaxation, leisure snacking and drinking, lessons about the ocean as it related to yachting and whatever else rich guys like him did on the water, and definitely sexy times, and she was here for all of it.

As she reported to him after breakfast the next morning, she got another surprise.

She was glad to see he hadn’t seemed rebuffed after she refused to sleep in his bedroom yet again the previous night, and that he was treating her with his usual cheer.

“Archery?” she said, still in disbelief at his proposition.

“Yes! Maybe we’ll find your latent talent there.”

He grinned at her.

Instead of working the rest of the week, Kevin made her try a different activity every day and let her retire to her room—after finding an opportunity to take her again.

He stopped inviting her to his room after her second refusal, but once they returned from an opera one evening, instead of taking her home right away, he booked a room in an upscale hotel and spent the evening making love to her there.

They spent another day on the outside of his estate—talking, swimming, snacking, drinking poolside.

He took her in a cabana there.

He showed her around the grounds, and she got to see every stone statue and manicured hedge, every pond and mini-waterfall.

It took almost half a day for him to give her a full tour of the outside, and once they were done, he walked her all the way back to her room, suggested they shower together and took her doggy-style for the first time there.

Another day, he showed her around other wings of the interior, pointing out all sorts of rooms she hadn’t been shown before since she’d mostly been confined to one wing.

She even discovered he had a sauna, an indoor pool, and a ballroom.

When she felt his energy change as he headed for another room, she wondered what he was up to, but couldn’t guess.

He wasn’t trying to trick her into going to his bedroom after all, was he?

But when he opened the door, her jaw slackened, and she could only stare silently at the expanse of meticulously arranged books in the library before her.

She didn’t know how long she stood there gaping and possibly drooling, her feet rooted to the ground, her brain clouded by all the delicious reading material in front of her.

Eventually, his soft voice calling out her name registered.

“You are welcome to come here whenever you want, Naomi,” he said.

She felt stupid about the tears forming in her eyes.

“This place is a dream,” was all she managed to say, still unable to tear her eyes away from the expanse of shelves.

“You’re a dream,” he said, the quality of his voice making her finally look up at him, startled.

He looked as if he hadn’t meant to say it, but he also looked like he didn’t plan to take it back.

He suddenly pulled her to him, cupping her face as he kissed her softly at first, then hungrily and possessively.

She felt her body start readying herself from him, moisture gathering between her legs in anticipation of what was to come.

He closed the door and locked it behind them, backing her up toward one of the couches.

Once she was on her back, he kissed her neck and her mouth while pulling her shorts down, and he let himself out of his jeans, his cock stiff and ready.

She was more than ready to receive it, and as he positioned himself between her legs, she wrapped her arms around him, trying not to think of them ruining the expensive-looking upholstered furniture.

All thoughts evaporated once his hard cock made its way inside her.

Just when Naomi thought things couldn’t get any better, she checked her Facebook and saw a message she had dreamed of seeing for years.

“It’s me, Naomi,” the message from a name she didn’t recognize, but a face she certainly did, said. “Your sister.”

Chapter 15

Naomi

As they strolled across the grounds, hand-in-hand, Naomi felt like she was bursting at the seams.

She was filled with so much love and happiness, and being in contact with her sister the past few days only made her swell more.

She had been spending magical days and nights with Kevin, floating on a cloud of endless ecstasy.

She kept finding herself on the verge of spilling out how she felt about him, but luckily, she found the strength to hold it back.

She would only make herself even more vulnerable to him if she revealed how she felt, and if he responded in an unfavorable way, she would be absolutely crushed.

She couldn’t imagine having to leave the estate someday, and she kept that thought locked away—no need to depress herself prematurely; she just needed to live in the moment and savor all her time with him. He didn’t need to hear anything silly from her, like how she had fallen in love with him, and how much she wanted to remain with him.

Still, she had to let something out somehow before she actually exploded.

Even though her sister had asked her to stay quiet about it, she couldn’t help wanting to share.

She waited for a natural break in their conversation.

When they had walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, she gushed, “I got in contact with my sister!”

Kevin turned to her and smiled a genuine, wide smile.

“That’s great, Naomi—I’m so happy for you! Are you guys going to reunite in person soon?”

“Well, she said her schedule’s pretty busy, but maybe in a month or two. In the meantime, we’re getting to know each other.”

“What have you been learning? Is she anything like you?”

She gave him an admonishing look.

“I hope you’re not thinking of threesomes, mister.”

He held his hand up defensively, chuckling as he did so.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. So is she anything like how you remember her as a kid?”

“It’s hard to tell over the net, but when we were little, I was the shy, quiet one, and she seemed to have all the energy; she was the extrovert. That’s probably why she got picked, actually. Anyway, apparently, she works as a makeup artist now—like on film and T.V. sets. Isn’t that cool?”

“Yeah!” Kevin said, looking like he was desperately suppressing laughter at something, but she felt so joyous, she didn’t really care if he was silently making fun of her in some way.

“She said that sometimes it’s beauty makeup, or like covering flaws and tattoos, but she also gets to do really cool stuff like make those same flaws or body art, and age people. She even makes them into aliens and monsters.”

“Wow. Pretty impressive. How old is she?”

“Same as me—we’re fraternal twins.”

“What’s her name?”

“Tyra. Well, Alyssa now.”

Kevin stopped walking, making her stop too.

“Wait, what did you say?”

“Her original name was Tyra, but her adoptive parents got her name changed, so she’s Alyssa now. Still kind of hard to get used to,” she admitted.

“So let me get this straight—your mom named you guys Naomi and Tyra?”

Naomi giggled. “Guess she had high hopes for us. Too bad neither of us grew that tall.”

At five feet seven, she was a fairly good height, but weren’t top models five nine and up? Either way, Naomi didn’t exactly end up on the skinny side, and from what she’d seen of her sister, they were about the same size; in fact, she was delighted to see they still looked so much alike.

They started walking again.

“Anyway, we’re still learning about each other. I’m sure you’ll get to meet her at some point, but she said she’s pretty tied up for the next few weeks or so.”

Suddenly her phone buzzed.

Naomi wasn’t expecting a text or call, so she was worried when she felt it.

Normally, she didn’t take her phone with her, but after she and Kevin returned from the movies, they had hopped out of the car and immediately went for a walk on the grounds, so she still had her purse on her.

She had a hard time ignoring the vibrations, so she looked at him apologetically and said, “Excuse me,” pausing her steps, then pulled her phone out.

She was relieved to see Jenna’s name, but her relief was short-lived.

He’s clear and free. Just figured you should know, Jenna had texted.

Who? she typed back.

My one-night-stand, Jenna sent back, and she needed to say no more.

Feeling like it was ruder to stand there typing, Naomi apologized to Kevin again and called, hoping Jenna would be able to answer.

“Just like that? How come?”

“You knew this would happen—his word against ours. Apparently, he said the three of us had agreed on a threesome. And he said something about you liking it rough, hence the mark on your face. Without a rape kit since he didn’t get anywhere, and with him being invited into the home and all that, charges got dropped. I think the prosecutor said something about not even close to enough evidence to pursue. I’m sorry, Naomi. Anyway, you were so dazed, I just gave them my number that night, so I just pretended to be you when she called—that’s how I got the info.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Naomi replied, not recognizing the low, dead voice leaving her.

She tucked her phone away, her energy taking a swift dive.

“What is it?” Kevin asked, his eyes seeming to penetrate her.

She let out a breath, considering whether or not to bother sharing.

Did it matter?

“Trust me, Naomi,” Kevin’s firm voice said, and she looked up at him.

“I just got word that a guy who attacked me is back on the streets,” she said.

“What do you mean attacked you? When did this happen?”

Naomi spilled out the story to him.

“I know I’m just being paranoid, but I’m glad I’m here where he can’t possibly reach me. But I’m definitely worried about Jenna.”

In fact, she hadn’t stopped worrying about Jenna; she had only succeeded in pushing her concerns about her ex-roommate and best friend to the back of her mind.

Now, Jenna was alone.

She was a tough girl, but she was still so vulnerable to so much.

When Naomi brought her eyes up to Kevin again, he looked like he would blow his top at second.

He was breathing hard, his face flushed redder than she’d ever seen it, his gray eyes flashing with rage.

He suddenly looked like a barely-contained monster.

Then, quick as a flash, with a few deep breaths, he seemed to calm himself down a bit.

“You won’t have to worry about anything, Naomi—that guy won’t hurt you or any woman again.”

“What do you mean? What are you going to do?”

“Make sure justice is served.”

Watching his outrage, his fury take over him, and then the calm way he let her know he would do everything he could to protect her and her friend had an immediate, overwhelming effect on her.

This man was assuring her that she had backup now.

All her life, she’s had no protector, no way of feeling safe, and suddenly, she felt a security she never had the privilege of experiencing.

Kevin made her feel so many things at once: cared for, desired, protected. Important.

Her emotions spilled over, and she felt driven to quench the sudden fire raging in her, to express her appreciation with her body.

“Let’s go inside,” she said, her voice deepened by desire.

Chapter 16

Kevin

Kevin wanted to immediately get to work on dealing with the guy who’d attacked Naomi, but he couldn’t resist the hungry look in her dark brown eyes.

They made their way to her room, and he knew it was probably a good thing he was taking this delightful detour—making love to the woman he adored would calm him down and keep him thinking rationally so he could methodically take down her attacker.

Once he managed to disentangle himself from Naomi’s beautiful, soft body, he got to work putting things in place.

It was easy to find out who the guy was, and from there, what his life had been like and the things he’d done.

He set his private investigator on him, and by the time his P.I. was done with him, Kevin had found out enough about him to ensure he got jail time—at least ten years.

The guy wouldn’t know what hit him, and certainly had no way of finding out who was behind the anonymous tips leading to his next arrest.

But before he got locked away, Kevin arranged to have someone pay him a little visit.

“It’s done, love—you won’t have to worry about that guy anymore. Don’t ask me for details.”

“Love?” Naomi said, raising an eyebrow at him while she smiled her heart-melting smile, her eyes softening in a way that reduced his insides to a deliciously familiar goo.

Christ, the woman could get him to do anything.

“Yes, my love,” he wanted to say. I love you, Naomi.

But before he could say anything, she was pressing her fabulously curvy body against him, and his dick took over the thought processes from there.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said in the seductively needy voice he couldn’t resist as she squeezed their bodies closer, “but it’s like I can’t get enough of you.”

They hurried to her room, and he’d barely closed the door before she’d pulled her clothes off.

He quickly joined her on the bed, then joined his body with hers, his heart bursting with love and need while he sank himself into her soft, warm, wet cavern with hard, deep thrusts again and again.

As he came inside her once more, he finally remembered one very important thing that seemed to keep slipping his mind once his body got entangled with hers—as much as he loved this woman, as much as he wanted any reason to tie to her him, to make her stay in his life somehow, he knew he had to be responsible; he had to put her needs before his.

He was guessing she wasn’t on the pill, being a virgin and all, and instead of being the responsible one, he had lost his complete mind and filled her with his seed over and over.

She hadn’t said anything, and maybe she assumed he was shooting blanks or something, considering how careless he’d been, but he sure as hell hadn’t had a vasectomy, and he was a healthy, virile man as far as he knew, so there was a good chance she was already pregnant, but he had to at least make the gesture.

As soon as he could, he made arrangements for emergency contraception to be delivered.

The household had easily adjusted to Naomi’s reduced assistance, but since he had to spend most of his time in his office today, she insisted on carrying out some of her old duties.

Now that she was currently on a run, Kevin decided he would discreetly drop off the box of contraception in her room—lay it on her pillow or something, and she would know he was looking out for her; she had a choice.

He didn’t want to do it, but he knew it was the right thing to do—he was not a man who believed in taking away a woman’s choice.

But as he stood by her bed, the lingering scent of her playing with his head, he reconsidered.

Why was he doing this again?

Why did he have this need to do right by her in every possible way?

If she got pregnant, he wanted that baby—almost as much as he wanted her.

He was Kevin Davenport, for Christ’s sake—all he had to do was order her to do whatever he wanted, sweeten the deal with money.

Countless women would be more than happy to have his baby—without even being paid directly for it.

All he had to do was say, “Naomi, you could be pregnant, and I want that baby. Upon the birth of my child, you will receive one million dollars a year for the rest of your life.” Or something like that.

Easy, right?

Except he knew Naomi wasn’t that girl.

He didn’t want to order her around and treat her like chattel, like some kind of mindless thing.

He wanted her to give herself to him in every way, willingly and completely.

If Naomi was to stay with him, she had to decide that’s what she wanted to do without the influence of other factors.

He knew he pretty much had her—that she was happy with her job and her living quarters. He knew everything was far more than a step up from what she’d known before, and that she cared for him.

But since she kept turning him down when he proposed taking her up to his bedroom, he had his doubts about how deeply she felt for him.

“I just feel more comfortable down here,” she’d told him once, and he had wondered at her words, the look in her eyes, the multiple possible meanings.

It seemed to be her way of drawing a line in the sand, and that was how he knew she wasn’t ready for him and all he had to offer.

He rested the box on her pillow.

Naomi said nothing about the box when she joined him for dinner that night, and he resisted the urge to bring it up. She obviously didn’t want to discuss it in the open with members of the staff so near.

They chatted as they usually did—as if there hadn’t been a small change, as if they weren’t broaching something significant.

“Shall I walk you to your room?” he said in a low voice, his words barely masking his meaning.

Excitement flashed across her eyes, and he looked forward to joining their bodies again, his dick already swelling.

But then she said, “Actually, I’d like to go solo; I have some things I need to catch up on. But tomorrow…” She gave him a meaningful look.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

When she declined his invitation, he immediately thought she’d gotten offended by his gesture and was mad at him, but she clearly just needed a break and a little space to herself.

Not that he blamed her—the two of them had been ravenous over the past few days.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

It was Sunday, and they usually met for breakfast, so when fifteen minutes had passed their usual time, Kevin went to check on her.

The same place he’d left the contraception box the day before, he found a note.

Sorry to let you know like this, but I have something to take care of, and I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours.

Various emotions raged in Kevin at once.

He started calling around and found out from the guard she’d left half an hour ago.

He had given her freedom, but she was tempting him to put tabs on her; he couldn’t have her disappearing on him.

He fought to calm himself down.

She didn’t leave you, buddy. She very clearly said she had something to take care of.

But what was it?

Did she not trust the emergency contraception? Was she on the way to have an abortion? All alone? Was she about to get rid of his baby?

His heart thumped wildly in his chest.

You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. Just trust that she’s fine and she had a good reason. She’ll be back soon enough; you’ll get your answers.

But after not getting to spend time with her after dinner the previous night and hurrying the night along with an early bedtime so he could see her in the morning, it was a terrible blow to have the time before he saw her again put off longer.

Had he screwed up again?

He probably should have just told her he loved her.

If he had, maybe she could have finally given in to him completely, and maybe he could have had her in his bed last night and woke up with her in his room this morning.

Maybe she would have tossed the box of contraception and confessed her love for him too.

What the hell was he waiting for?

But now, because he so stupidly dropped that box off without letting her know how he felt, she was probably filled with regret again, maybe even feeling used.

The thought of her out there suffering emotionally tortured him even more.

Take it easy, he reminded himself again. Just a few hours.

Chapter 17

Kevin

“Naomi! You’re back!”

The relief flooding him as he saw Naomi reminded him once again he was completely done for; he was madly, hopelessly in love with her.

She’d said she might be gone for a few hours, but not even an hour had passed and here she was—just when he thought he’d lose it when she wouldn’t answer his texts as he tried to get more specific information out of her.

He’d told his guard to alert him immediately when she arrived.

Naomi smiled at him, but something seemed a bit off about her expression.

She didn’t look as warm as she usually did—her smile didn’t radiate from her core like he’d gotten used to, and again he wondered if he’d offended her by dropping off the EC.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t tell me you were heading out earlier? I was getting so worried about you.”

She shrugged her shoulders a little as she looked away, folding her arms.

Her expression was hard to read, but her body language wasn’t.

So she was pissed with him after all.

He stalked over to her, grabbing her hands in his.

“Look, we should talk about the EC. I’m not forcing you to make any decisions here, I just wanted you to know you had options. I know it might be too late for that particular method, but we’ll talk about it; I’ll go with whatever you want, Naomi. I want to make sure you’re happy.”

She looked up at him, her eyes softening a bit, and she was starting to seem more like the Naomi he knew, but something still seemed a bit off.

Suddenly he realized her style of clothing didn’t seem quite right, and there was something about her energy he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He started developing a theory and wondered how best to test it.

But before he could say anything, Naomi suddenly started opening her khaki coat, and his eyebrows nearly rose off his face once he saw what she had on underneath it.

Her lovely brown skin was complemented by a ridiculously sexy black teddy, and his brain almost shorted at the sight.

“Why don’t you head upstairs?” he said to her. “You know where. I’ll grab some champagne and meet you up there.”

Naomi didn’t understand.

It was one thing to be a bit late because of unfamiliarity with the area—it was quite another to be over an hour late.

Where the hell was her sister?

Alyssa had surprised her with the news that she was unexpectedly coming to town, and they made arrangements to meet up.

Naomi had accommodated all of her requests—even the strange ones—and Alyssa didn’t even have the decency to try to get there on time.

Sorry! Accident on the highway! was the last text message she’d gotten from her.

That was half an hour ago.

Naomi checked her phone again.

Naomi, I don’t know where you are or why you won’t answer my messages, but I need you to come home right away, a text from Kevin said, and for some reason, she suddenly had an uneasy feeling.

She’d been ignoring him, not wanting him to guilt her over leaving so suddenly without telling him anything.

She wanted to have a stress-free time finally seeing her sister again in the flesh without any obligation to him hanging over her.

Answer, Kevin’s next text said, then a call immediately came in from him.

“Naomi, I’m so sorry, but your sister’s here.”

“Where is she?”

Naomi’s emotions were all over the place. But mostly outrage coursed through her.

“I had Jeffrey intercept her and lead her to a room that locks from the outside. She’s sort of trapped in there for now until we decide what to do with her. So what do you want to do with her?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said honestly, pacing back and forth.

She was having an inner battle of epic proportions—one part of her was still dying to see her sister in the flesh, the other part wanted nothing to do with her after such a horrible betrayal.

She eventually stopped her pacing and looked at Kevin.

“How did you know it wasn’t me?”

He seemed to let out a breath.

“Your sister is quite talented, but several things were off. You told me you guys were fraternal twins, so I had no reason to think she wasn’t you since she looked exactly like you. She even smiles like you.”

“Yeah, supposedly the Olsen twins are like that too—fraternal even though they look identical. Happens every now and then—siblings who look pretty much exactly like each other without splitting from the same egg.”

“Well, I wish you’d shared that with me, but still, even if I’d known you had a double, she made a few mistakes with her characterization of you. For example, you have a way of looking unsure, and it almost makes you look meek, which I know you’re not. I mean, you slammed a door in Susan’s face—that tells me all I need to know. But your sister operated from a place of high confidence, and it made her energy different—even though she kind of stayed quiet for the most part, which was a smart choice, but still a bad move. I figure either she thought the less she said, the less likely she’d be to make a verbal mistake, or her memory of you as a quiet kid didn’t quite translate to the adult version she imagined you as. Like, maybe she thought you stayed quiet, which you sort of are, but…” He raised his eyebrows. “…She obviously doesn’t know how…verbose you can get.”

“Well, we mostly sent instant messages, so I guess she didn’t get my speech patterns down.”

“Remarkable makeup job, though—whatever small physical differences you guys might have that set you apart today, she managed to cover them up. You must have shown her lots of pictures.”

Naomi’s shoulder sagged.

“I did way more than that, Kevin; you wouldn’t believe how much I told her. God, I feel so stupid. I mean, I even gave her a mini-video tour from the entrance to my room.”

“Naomi…” His voice was a deep reprimand.

“I know, I know…hence, why my eyes are currently averted. Unlike most of my counterparts, I read before I sign, and I did actually read the whole work contract, so I know videography is forbidden. I just…I was so excited to be here, and then to find her—especially with Jenna no longer a part of my life like before—I was so desperate to talk to someone and share my life that I totally overshared. And it wasn’t just anyone—it was my long lost sister. I never imagined she would use it against me.”

She heard Kevin sigh.

“Had this happened with my ex, I would have been duped easily because one of our issues was that I didn’t pay attention to the little things—and sometimes even the big things—when it came to her. If she’d had a twin, no doubt the woman would have been able to seduce me and I wouldn’t have been none the wiser.

“I guess your sister was banking on me not taking you seriously or being all that attentive to you, and she figured I’d never pick up on subtle differences, but there were subtle ones and there were pretty large ones. For example, she had no problem with the idea of meeting me in my bedroom. But the biggest tip of all—not that I didn’t know what was up already—was her being comfortable standing there in a lacy black teddy.” He shook his head. “Not my Naomi! Now, if she had thrown on a pair of Scooby-Doo pajamas she might have had a shot…”

“Okay, I definitely don’t have a pair of those—that was definitely way before my time…”

“…but flirting in skimpy lingerie? I would have believed it was Pod you before I believed she was you.”

“I’m sorry, ‘pod’ me?”

“You know, the Pod People.”

Naomi shook her head. “Nope.”

“Sheesh. Well, I’ll have to bring you up to speed with some awesome seventies and eighties stuff. Maybe you should read the book, actually—they’re always better than the movies, right? Anyway, your sister probably thought that, as a guy, I’d shove aside common sense and all logic and reason and take an easy offering in front of me anyway, but she made a terrible miscalculation, and now I need you to tell me how you feel so I can proceed with how to deal with her. Any other woman and I would have had her processed like any stalker or crazy intruder person, but this is your sister. Tell me what you want me to do, Naomi.”

Naomi was still amazed by how well Kevin seemed to know her—physically and otherwise. She had no idea he’d noticed so many details, that he knew her so well, that a girl who looked exactly like her had failed to seduce him.

“I can’t believe you registered all these things about me.”

“Of course, I have, Naomi—you’re imprinted on my brain and heart, and probably everywhere else.”

Her own heart leapt at his words.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you—not even your own flesh and blood.”

The words ‘flesh and blood’ twisted at her.

“I just don’t understand—why would she do this?

“Probably wanted to get knocked up so she could hit me up for money,” he said casually.

She stared at him, not knowing what to make of him.

He sounded so serious and matter-of-fact about it. But he wasn’t serious, right?

He shrugged.

“You won’t believe the lengths some women have gone trying to trap me and other men like me. You can’t even leave a condom behind—there are women who’ll find some way to get the ejaculate inside them. Happened to an associate of mine, actually. He’d been with a woman who claimed she was on the pill—of course, we all know better than to trust that. Anyway, he had used a condom and was sure it hadn’t broken, but he remembered that he had simply thrown it away, and figured she got her hands on it, and…you know.”

“Ugh! Gross!”

“And you won’t believe the lengths some guys take to prevent anything like that from happening—doubling up on condoms, only sleeping with sterile women. More extreme actions we don’t talk about. I have a buddy who makes the women sign contracts stating if anything happens, she won’t come after him for money or anything.”

“That can’t be legal.”

“You’d be surprised what’s legal with proper contracts and highly-paid lawyers. Personally, I’m never as careless as I have been with you. It’s a wonder I even let you bring me my coffee—you could have easily drugged it, knocking me out and giving me something to make my dick hard, then ride it while I’m out cold…”

“I would never…!”

He laughed at the outrage no doubt transforming her face.

“I know, sweetheart. Even if I didn’t know for sure in the beginning, I guess I was never afraid of you tying me to you somehow because guess what? Too late. The moment you cussed me out with tears in your eyes, I was done.” He looked away. “To be honest, I actually had to fight myself to not be that guy—the one getting you pregnant with you not having a say. I suddenly understood from the other side—I wanted to keep you, one way or another, do you know what I mean? I wanted all of you but was willing to settle for part of you.” He shook his head. “It took a whole lot for me to let you decide.”

“Wait, so the contraception was totally optional?”

“Yup. So did you…?” He audibly swallowed as he stared at her. “You’ve taken it then?”

It was her turn to look away.

When she saw the box on her pillow, the reality of the possibility of pregnancy set in, and once it did, she couldn’t find it in herself to suppress a possible seed. The idea sort of thrilled her.

“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Kevin’s face lit up tremendously and he said, “I desperately want to keep it. How do you feel?”

“Well, I’m clearly open to other…possibilities.”

“Great, because if it exists, I want this baby, and I want to be with you, Naomi. I…” He closed his eyes briefly. “I love you.”

Everything in her soared, her trapped sister completely forgotten.

“I love you too,” she squeezed out of her closing throat.

He suddenly pulled her to him and grabbed her lips into a passionate kiss.

When he pulled away and she caught her breath again, she said, “Oh, and it was Hello Kitty, by the way.”

She could hear both their hearts pounding.

“Excuse me?” he said, still holding her in his arms and looking utterly confused.

“The pajamas you saw me in the other night? They were Hello Kitty. Don’t judge.”

He made a ridiculing sound, but a grin teased the corner of his mouth.

“I am definitely taking you shopping for some new nightwear. Find out where your sister shops.”

She squeezed him as hard as she could in reproach.

“Speaking of your sister—once again, what would you like me to do with her? Don’t make me choose.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her and she squeezed him again, this time in a hug, her head on his chest.

“You’re way more lenient than me,” he said once everything had settled back down again, and the two of them pretty much had the place to themselves. “Had it been my sibling…”

“She only tried to seduce you. I figure the punishment should fit the crime.”

“And you really think posting pics of her in that teddy is going to show her?”

“Yeah, but she has a record now, doesn’t she? I mean, she’ll have to pay for trespassing, at the very least. Plus, she lost the chance to form a relationship with me.”

“Look who’s suddenly feeling herself.”

Naomi giggled.

Then she sobered up.

“The fact that she was willing to do something like that to me, knowing how I felt about you—she is no family of mine.”

Kevin nodded his agreement.

“Family is most certainly more than a matter of blood.”

Naomi’s mind briefly went back to Jenna.

Then she said, “I’m so glad you didn’t fall for it—I would have been devastated if you had…”

“I know, and I’m glad my eyes were open. You know, whatever you told her of our relationship, she operated as if she was sure I wouldn’t refuse her—like she knew I had a weakness for you.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly say that outright since I couldn’t be sure, but I guess she put it together from what I told her about you. About us.”

“Then she is a very smart girl, not unlike you.”

“Yeah, so smart, I practically lead a woman I don’t really know to your bedroom door.”

“Naomi, don’t blame yourself. She has always been your sister in your heart; you naturally trusted her more than anyone.”

“No, not anyone,” she said, looking meaningfully into his eyes.

His own eyes rounded a bit as they locked in on her.

“My heart is pummeling me, Naomi—you really do trust me, now? In every way?”

“God help me, I do.”

Epilogue

“I can’t believe I took so long to come up here. I stupidly thought a bed couldn’t get more comfortable than the one downstairs. Why the heck hadn’t I agreed to come to your room sooner?”

“Beats me. I’m just glad you’re here now. And is the bed the only reason you’re glad to be here?” Kevin, said, his eyes not leaving her face.

“Of course not, silly,” she said before kissing him on the lips.

She had also finally seen how a bathroom could be better than the one she’d had downstairs.

Kevin’s was not only much bigger and more splendid with its marble details, but he had a jacuzzi in it, and even a bidet!

Kevin put on a serious face.

“We have a few things to talk about before we get started on the next activity. One: college. Now that we know you’re pregnant, I just want you to know that I don’t expect you to give up your goal of going back to school. If you want to go to college, obviously I’ll send you. Now, don’t get me wrong—there’s nothing I want more than for you to stay here with me, but not at the expense of your dreams. So you can absolutely go ahead with your plan to enroll for next fall—the baby will definitely be able to hold up its own head by then. Maybe even talk.”

She shoved him playfully. “It’ll only be about five or six months old by that time, so certainly no full sentences. And to be honest, I don’t want to miss a thing when it comes to the baby, so I’m not sure about going anymore.”

“But remember, you don’t even have to be full-time. You have plenty of options, honey—I’m filthy rich; money is no object. You can pick any college you want, and we can hire all the nannies or babysitters you need. You don’t have to miss a single thing. At all.”

She smiled at him. “If I go, it’ll have to be to a good college nearby. I don’t want to go anywhere far from you.”

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I’d started to regret offering you so many options; I can’t imagine you being on the other coast, for example. Sure, I can fly to you anytime, but I’d rather be able to reach you within an hour or two, so consider it done. We’ll go over the nearby options later.”

She nodded her agreement.

“So, Master of the House, what’s on the schedule for tonight?”

He suddenly looked really excited in a boyish way.

“Home theatre movie night. You and I are going to watch Coming to America—one of my favorite movies of all time. Of all time!”

“You’re kidding me.”

“What? You thought this old, rich white boy wouldn’t know anything about Zamunda?”

Naomi burst into laughter.

“No, I mean, you’ve been taking me through all this high society stuff. You play a game with the same name as a vegetable. You can decide at any time to take a day off and hop on a yacht…”

“Well, believe it or not, I don’t always stay where I supposedly belong, and I’ve had caretakers introduce me to all sorts of…” He made air quotes, “normal people things. Besides, this movie was pretty easy to identify with—wealthy guy whose only obligation was to do the one thing he didn’t want to do: marry someone picked out for him by his parents and society in general.”

“You almost did, though, right?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know how close I actually was. I would have called it off with Susan at some point for sure. I mean, she wasn’t even gonna follow my every command. ‘Bark like a dog,’ I told her once, and she refused. Forget about hopping on one leg.”

Naomi stared at him, her mouth twitching with amusement. “You didn’t…”

He only grinned at her.

Then he said, “When you sort of made a reference to that movie your first day here, I pretty much knew you were the one for me.”

“Really?” She heard the mixture of wonder and skepticism in her own voice; she couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not.

“Well, I felt connected to you before that, to be honest. It would have all been obvious to my cousin, Michael, I’m sure, but I didn’t really see things in those terms—I never really expected to meet ‘the one’—just the one that fit whatever goal was most important at the moment.

He started to sit up straighter.

“Anyway, Mistress of the House—we have another matter to settle.”

“Oh, I’m the mistress of the house, now?”

“Not like that—you know I don’t mean you’re my mistress. I mean…”

She smiled, letting him know she’d been toying with him.

“It’s okay, I know what you mean. I read a lot, remember? I know the various definitions of mistress.”

“Well, good, because then you know why I said that and what’s about to happen.”

Naomi’s heart sped up, and it seemed all she could was focus on Kevin, her senses alert and attuned to him, time seeming to slow down.

“As you know,” Kevin continued, “the shortened version of mistress is Mrs., and since I said what I did, calling you the Mistress of the House, I better go ahead and make that your official title.”

“Kevin…”

He turned and dug under the mattress, producing a small box and presenting it to her.

He flipped it open.

“Naomi, my love, will you marry me?”

Naomi’s hands had risen to her mouth moments ago, and even though she realized it was coming, it still didn’t seem real.

How could this be?

How could her luck have turned around so drastically?

How was it this gorgeous billionaire was looking at her with such loving eyes and asking her to stay with him for life?

“Yes,” she said, her voice strained with emotion.

He quickly slipped the ring on her finger and grabbed her into a passionate kiss.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said, and Naomi burst out laughing but didn’t bother telling him why.

He seemed so excited, he didn’t even ask.

“My cousin’s going to be so jealous,” he said. “Mike’s the one who’s currently looking for all of this, and it just stumbles into my lap. He’s totally ready to settle down and have a family and he’s off looking for a wife right now in fact. Funny thing is, he’s the one who said it first. ‘Watch,’ he said. ‘Because I want it the most, I’ll be the last to find it.”

Kevin shook his head.

“Guess that remains to be seen though—he could still beat my cousin, Richard.”

Naomi couldn’t stop watching him as he spoke, her heart full.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” she said.

He smiled at her, the brought her hands to his lips to kiss. “Me too.”

Then she looked at her ring, not sure she’ll ever get used to having a thing that valuable on her finger.

“This ring looks so expensive,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

He looked at her like she was a little crazy.

“Not for me. Either way, don’t you understand by now? I’ll donate enough to get a library named after you if you want—I’ll do anything to make you happy, Naomi. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. It’s scary the lengths I’d go for you, my love, but it’s exciting. You deserve everything.”

“Wait, so now I’m the prince?”

Kevin bowed his head and distorted his voice. “I’ll do whatever you like.”

She grinned, her mind going straight to the gutter.

But instead of going there, she said, “Can you get my friend a job? My old roommate, Jenna—she makes good money doing what she does now and is thinking of going a riskier route for more. Will you help her figure out some alternatives? I’m sure she can…well, I don’t know—we always took unskilled jobs, but she’s probably a fast learner…”

His hand on her arm stilled her and she realized she had started babbling.

“We’ll figure something out, Naomi. But you must be prepared for her possible decision to continue down the riskier path. Sometimes, despite what we want for them, people enjoy walking on the wild side, and sometimes, all you can do is let them be free. But yes, I will do what I can do present her with an attractive alternative. Now, anything else, boss lady?”

She smiled wickedly at him.

“Just this,” she said, pulling him on top of her as she settled onto her back and wrapped her legs around him.

END

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IF YOU’RE READING THIS, YOU ARE ONE OF THE EARLY BIRDS WHO GOT A SPECIAL BONUS EDITION!

Kevin’s cousin, Richard, has his own love story, and it’s coming up next! For a limited time, the whole story has been included here. BEWARE: This one’s a bit spicier. :)

Serving the Billionaire is the second story in THE BILLIONAIRE’S PROPOSITION series.

SYNOPSIS: Curvy Cherise never expected the hot new guest in her restaurant to request her as his server. He had so many other options—thinner, prettier types more than eager to cater to all of his needs.

But the sexy, mysterious man insists on having the bodacious beauty—in more ways than one.

Suddenly, Cherise finds herself facing all sorts of moral quandaries and indecent propositions.

What the heck is the handsome stranger really up to?

PLEASE NOTE: This is a re-issue of a story previously published in parts under another name (same title). The story has been modified from the original in minor ways.

Check out Rose’s Amazon Author page for her full catalog!

BONUS STORY

Serving the Billionaire

CHAPTER ONE: CHERISE

Tonight, the server ranks are buzzing because we have a new guest.

No big deal, right? We get lots of new guests every night; it’s a hip, new restaurant.

But the difference is that this particular guest is extremely hot. Not only that, he doesn’t have some ditzy blonde on his arm—he came in totally alone, and not many people do that.

The last time I saw a guest dining alone, it was some big-name director I recognized only because I did extra work on one of his films once; otherwise, who knows director’s faces unless they’re really huge, like Spielberg?

Anyway, this new guest seems like he might be in the industry: he definitely has movie star good looks and possibly an action star body from what I glimpsed—but no one has recognized him so far, and this place is full of aspiring actors, so I guess he could be a director.

We doubt he gave us his real name upon booking the reservation, but someone will probably google the name on his credit card later tonight.

In the meantime, we’re all stuck racking our brains for guesses.

We suspect he’s filthy rich, although when it comes to filthy rich folks, it’s anybody’s guess what the tip will be like.

I always thought rich folks would tip more back when I worked in 24-hour diners, but I learned that the main difference is what the final bill looks like. In either case, you could get lucky or you could even get stiffed.

Of course in places like my current job, since the bill’s usually much higher, 18% on a bill worth hundreds sure as hell beats 18% on a sixty-dollar bill.

For the most part, I expect an average of 20% everywhere—whether it’s some cheap diner or a new upscale restaurant.

The clientele here is mainly L.A. movers and shakers, quiet millionaires, and a few loud, insecure actors.

I’ve recognized several industry people so far, and of course I have to keep my shit together if it’s someone I know and happen to be a huge fan of.

I find myself hoping the solo hottie gets seated in my section, but there’s no way the lead hostess would do that—she’ll probably direct him to Maggie’s section, or any of the other cute, slim female server sections.

I feel like I’m pretty much the last resort—at least I would be if it wasn’t for the fact that people can sometimes be picky about their seats, and if it happens to be in my section (or the place is full), I’m in business.

Not that I’m hideous or anything, but the L.A. flagship restaurant of a recent Chef of the Year is going for a certain look and feel from welcome to goodbye.

For example, current hostess number one is blond and blue-eyed, about five feet seven, and about a buck twenty. She looks made of makeup and hairspray, but in a way that says upscale escort instead of beauty pageant contestant. Current hostess number two is a green-eyed, raven-haired beauty about five nine, and no more than one hundred thirty pounds.

Me? A brown-skinned brunette about five feet five, and definitely more than one hundred and thirty pounds.

Luckily I had lots of server experience—and a good word put in for me from my friend, Maggie—or I guess I wouldn’t have gotten this job at all, and I needed one badly.

I would have liked to apply for a hostess position myself to shake things up a bit, but I’m no fool. No one really cares what servers look like unless it’s Hooters or something, and I’m definitely too much on the plump side for them.

Even though I suspected it would happen, my chest falls a little when I see the blond hostess lead the sexy stranger to Maggie’s section.

I swear Maggie puffs out her chest a little before heading to the hottie.

Maggie’s a petite redhead with a sort of slim, but curvy body type—no bigger than a size four with boobs and a bubble butt. I’m sure our new guest will love her.

I watch her chat with the handsome stranger for a moment, then inexplicably, Maggie heads to the hostess stand.

The blond hostess sends a look in my direction—barely restrained disdain—then there’s a shuffle and the hottie is suddenly being moved to my section.

What the hell is going on?

Maggie heads in my direction.

“He wants you,” she says, then wriggles her eyebrows ridiculously.

I almost laugh, but my confusion dominates—why would a new guest request me?

“Did he actually use my name or did he point and say, ‘the fat, black girl?’”

She slaps me on the arm—kind of hard actually.

“You’re not fat; stop saying that,” she says seriously, her dark eyes looking at me intently.

“Well, in here I am,” I say, my eyes pointedly sweeping the room full of socialites, industry folks, paid escorts and prospective millionaire baby mamas. Nearly all the women dining here are thin. Plus, the hostesses look like models, and my fellow servers are aspiring actors, so the general look here is definitely way better than average.

I’m not the only pleasantly plump girl, but the other one’s a blonde with huge boobs, and people like those.

My boobs aren’t so huge, but you should get a load of my ass!

“Bottom line is he asked for you. By name. Don’t worry—just your first name,” she says quickly.

Panic must’ve shown on my face. I mean, how creepy would it be to have a complete stranger request you by your full name? And how did he even know my first name?

I figure maybe he saw me, and then pulled aside a busboy and said, “Who’s the fat, black girl?”

I head over to him, trying to ignore my pounding heart.

My body is heating up to an insane degree so that my cheeks feel ridiculously hot.

Christ, I’ve waited on good-looking guys before, why’s this one making me so heated and nervous? My whole body is flushed and my palms are getting sweaty.

I need to get it together.

It’s simply been too long and this guy’s testosterone finally lit me aflame—like throwing a lit match on some kindling.

I take a deep breath.

As I get closer to him, I have no doubt this guy’s loaded. The scent of money is all over him.

Diners eating alone usually tip well, but still, I find myself thinking, Will I get stiffed, low-tipped, or super lucky?

My mind shoves all those words into the gutter.

I take a few more deep breaths so that by the time I reach him, I have gotten a hold of myself somewhat, and my usual greeting smile is plastered on my face.

I begin with my regular spiel, offering him our ‘special’ water.

“Sure, I’ll have that and whatever you recommend for wine, but I’d like to get right to it.”

“Great! What can I get for you?”

Before I can launch into my usual recommendations, I swear this dark-haired Adonis gives me such a thorough once-over—dragging his beautiful dark eyes from my eyes to my lips, then down every curve and back again—that I am left utterly speechless.

I should be offended—utterly disgusted by such a lewd display, but my body only responds with wetness.

My uniform and apron pretty much leave everything to the imagination, so I don’t know what he was looking at considering I’m covered head to toe in dark clothing, but I realize the point of his visual rake was to send me a very clear message.

Fear suddenly seizes me.

I’ve gotten all sorts of answers to my opening question before considering the other places I worked, but I’m praying this guy doesn’t answer with something so unimaginative as “You.”

Plus, this place doesn’t play when it comes to sexual harassment—they’ll kick someone out quick, fast and in a hurry for anything that makes us uncomfortable—doesn’t matter who the person is or who they think they are; the restaurant really enforces the no-tolerance policy.

“What do you think I should have?” he asks to my relief, but his voice is different—deep, rich, seductive. It manages to travel straight through my core.

I find myself reactivating, and I immediately start rattling off my usual picks, ignoring my pounding heart and welcoming the moment of autopilot while trying to figure out why I felt so scared he would be verbally direct about wanting me.

By the time my mouth stops yapping, I’ve figured it out—whether he used the lame “You” response or not, I was already most of the way there to saying yes to whatever the hell he wanted.

Christ, that’s frightening. How is it this man is having such an effect on me?

It’s like he cast some sort of spell.

I’ve never been into casual relationships, yet this guy has me ready to throw caution to the wind. One proposition from him and I’m in.

“I trust you,” he says. “Bring me a full meal—whatever you would eat.”

Somehow, that regular-ass phrasing sends my body flaming more.

My mind is turning everything dirty!

I feel self-conscious and nervous, even though picking for a guest is an easy, sweet deal.

I ask him about allergies and aversions, and when he indicates I have free reign, I give him some standard reply—maybe even “I’ll get right on it”—and I feel my face flushing even more, confused and burning. Why did I imagine climbing on top of him?

I can feel his eyes on me when I go to my other tables, making it impossible to forget him for even a second.

Throughout the evening, my blazing hot guest does nothing but smile and thank me when I bring each item out, and when I have laid the main course out in front of him, he asks, “What time do you get off?”

My heart thumps wildly in my chest, and I’m almost positive he can hear it.

I stutter a reply.

My usual response to this question is a lie, but by the time my words come out, I realize I’ve spoken the truth.

He checks his watch. It’s probably one of those ridiculously expensive high-end Apple ones.

“Excellent,” he says. “You have helped me decide. That’s about when I’ll be done here, so bring me the bill before you’re about to get off. Put in an order for two of your favorite desserts, and then bring them out with the bill.”

I nod and then take off, every part of me tingling once again.

I feel nervous, horny, and frightened all at once, and the feelings don’t show any sign of leaving.

I can barely concentrate the rest of my shift.

Was he really going to try to hit on me when I got off?

He’s definitely up to something, but I can’t guess what his next move will be, so I’m intrigued. Titillated—to say the least. What the hell is he planning?

I consider sending one of the other servers to close out his check and ultimately slipping out without him knowing, but what if he comes back the next day?

And who am I kidding? There’s no way I’d do that—I’m way too curious, and I sure as hell don’t want to send him into the arms of some other chick.

I’ll be right here, collecting his payment, wondering what he plans to offer me once I got off.

What the hell am I getting into?

CHAPTER TWO: CHERISE

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Maggie says as I start getting ready to close out my shift.

“Oh good—free reign,” I say playfully.

As requested, I bring my solo guest’s desserts out with the check.

He pays completely in cash, dropping down way too many hundreds for his hundred-dollar bill.

My mouth drops open.

I don’t get to keep all of it since we tip out the hostesses, busboys, etc., but still, that’s a lot of dough.

I try not to stutter when I thank him.

I’ve heard of this happening to other servers, but a surprisingly generous tip never happened to me until tonight.

“Did you want me to box that up for you?” I ask, indicating the desserts.

“Sure,” he says. “It’ll make it easier for you to save one for later, but I’d like to share one with you now.”

My brain trips over his words—he’d said too many strange things at once.

I definitely stutter my response this time. “Um, what do you mean?”

It’s not like I could just sit down at the table and start eating with him.

“Why don’t you meet me outside? My driver is waiting, and I have lots of space in the back of my car. I’d like you to sit with me and have dessert.”

Okay, first of all, did he really expect me to get in his car with him? I don’t know him from Adam!

Second of all, did he really expect me not to eat both of these desserts asap? Save one for later, my ass—I’m starving.

Third of all…I know there’s a third in there somewhere, but I’m not exactly thinking straight right now. This is all too much at once—having this beautiful man choose me of all the girls in here for whatever reason, beaming his dizzying testosterone at me and scrambling my brain.

I don’t know what’s going on here, but I certainly don’t want to look like a skank leaving with him.

I leave to box and bag the desserts and bring them back to him.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” he says. “You’ll know my car at once—a black stretch limo. Rolls Royce.”

Again, my brain trips over his words.

The closest I ever came to a nice car was watching my brother drive away in a rented Lexus with a Just Married sign on the back of it and his new bride inside.

Now this man is offering me the chance to get in one I couldn’t have dreamed up climbing into one day.

I’m not shallow, but come on—how many times will an opportunity like this come up? I’m curious as hell to see what the inside looks like, and it’s not fun just googling it.

I nod and take off, in a daze.

I freshen up in the bathroom, then spend a few moments staring at myself in the mirror, unable to believe what’s happening.

What the hell was I thinking—getting into a car with a complete stranger?

What voodoo did he do on me?

I shake myself, hoping to shake some sense back in, but to no avail.

I head outside to find the stretch Rolls Royce.

When I spot it, I just stare at it for a while. It looks so ominous, and the night is dark.

I stay under the lighting, and a few seconds later, my handsome guest exits the car and starts walking toward me.

“Is something wrong?” he asks when he reaches me.

I remain silent. I guess reality finally hit me.

“Look, I’ll even give you a lift home,” he says.

I think about my own car—a ‘98 Corolla I got from Craigslist, currently in a repair shop.

It’s not that my car isn’t ready yet—I just can’t afford to pick it up right now; that thousand-dollar deductible is no joke. Well, I guess now, thanks to this guy and his ridiculous tip, I can.

Still, no matter how generous he is, I don’t take rides from strangers.

I’ve been grabbing taxis for the past two weeks, or if I’m lucky, I’ll catch a ride with someone who lives nearby and is getting off at the same time—which has happened all of once.

I was planning to try Uber tonight—I have this coupon that gets me a free first ride.

“No thanks to the ride,” I say. “I’m covered.”

“Really? You were going to take a taxi or something, correct? Is the driver not a stranger?”

“That’s different, and I’m pretty sure I don’t have to explain how.”

Wait, how did he know I didn’t have a car waiting for me in some parking garage or side street?

“Look, with my driver at the wheel, it’ll be like taking a taxi—except the taxi will be very long and spacious, and you won’t have to pay for the ride. Plus it happens to be stocked with snacks and liquor if you feel so inclined. You must be famished after that shift.”

I start to wonder how many people—well, women—must’ve passed through his ‘taxi.’

“Is this the line you throw at all the girls? ‘Let me drop you home in my limo?’”

He smiles. “I’m quite picky, in fact.”

“Well, I’m flattered, and this is all very nice of you, but no thanks. This is all too weird. I only came this far because I was so damned curious. And you know what they say…”

He smiles at me in a way that manages to be so lewd, the saying takes on a different meaning.

“Okay then,” he says. “I understand why you are hesitant to accept the ride, but do have dessert with me for a moment so that I may have your company a little longer. I’ll even leave the door open if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

“Like you can’t just drive off with me either way.”

“You seem to think I want to kidnap you for some reason. Why is that?”

“I don’t know—for any of the many reasons people get kidnapped!”

“I assure you I wouldn’t go through all of this trouble if that’s what I wanted to do. I could hire folks to pluck you from your apartment, your walk to the grocery store, any night you’re headed home from work without anyone seeing my face. Nicely asking you to get in my car after tons of witnesses saw you serving me tonight only to drive off with you—that’s not my kind of headache. Too many loose ends, and I’m a rather tidy man.”

I mean I guess that made sense but still, I would feel so stupid if he was the worst kidnapper on earth after all, and after going about it the clunkiest way, drove off with me.

“My dear Cherise, I am simply feeling compelled to show some kindness these days. I suddenly have a lot more funds available to me due to the recent death of my granduncle, and I would like to share it in various ways. I am trying to do a gesture per day for at least a month, but I want to extend the generosity beyond the financial, and offering you a ride is a simple gesture.”

“Don’t forget ordering me dessert! That was my favorite part.”

He smiles and my heart is melting under it and his warm gaze.

“How did you know my name? In the beginning?” I ask him, still reeling over the way it sounds coming from his lips.

It takes him a weighed moment, but he says, “I asked around.”

Hm. So it probably happened similar to what I thought.

Why did you pick me? I want to ask, but instead I say, “What’s your name?”

He looks a bit surprised by my question.

Then I guess he realizes there was no way for me to know—from reservation booking to payment he hid his identity from us.

“My name is Richard,” he says, and I can’t help but think how much it suits him.

Some people just look like their names—I can’t tell you how many times I’ve guessed someone’s name based on what they look like. Oh, the Sarahs, Jennifers, and Amys I’ve stunned with my accuracy.

I might not have guessed this guy’s name, but once he said it, it seemed obvious.

I’m not even talking about the fact that this guy is obviously loaded; the name fits every part of him: his voice is rich, his eyes are dark and rich with possibilities and layers—like his brain is constantly going—and even his hair is a deep rich brown.

Now that we have been properly introduced, I feel more inclined to join him for dessert.

What could really go wrong? Besides actually getting kidnapped?

And especially when I’m so willing to go almost anywhere with him quite happily?

How many times have I trusted myself in a car or at the movies with some stranger?

Practically anything could turn into a kidnapping situation, right? Every Tinder swipe could turn into something potentially dangerous.

Man, I’m easy—offer me a salted caramel chocolate cake and I’m like a rat after cheese on a stick.

I know it’s not that simple though—this man just does it for me, and I long for him to do it to me. I’m being careless because I want him with every fiber of my being; I want to feel the beginning of seduction, the moments of anticipation before his lips reach mine, that moment I realize he is hard beneath his slacks. I want to meet his tongue, have his hands run across every curve of my body.

Quite frankly, I want him to take me in the back of that limo.

I follow him to the long, sleek vehicle, hoping none of my fellow servers catch me in all my risk-taking glory.

Come to think of it, at least half of them would probably high-five me tomorrow since so many of them were drooling over him tonight.

I suppress a flash of jealousy and possessiveness.

Will he come back for Maggie tomorrow? For our Barbie hostess?

Will he pick us off one by one, and then move on to another restaurant for his next set of horny victims?

I shove the thoughts away and decide to just indulge in the moment.

We enter the limo and I’m sure my mouth drops open at the sight of the interior.

Who else were you expecting? I want to ask because this is way too much space for one or two people.

Maybe he had planned to bring back several girls and have an orgy, and with all my curves, he figured one of me was enough for tonight.

“This how you always roll?” I ask when I find my voice again.

“Not always. I rolled this one out tonight to impress you,” he says with a cheeky grin.

I smile at his silliness.

Obviously he was kidding, because how could he have known he would meet me tonight? Clearly he meant he rolled it out to impress whoever he ended up picking out for his pleasure, and it happened to be me.

“Can I offer you something to drink?”

His mini-bar is the stuff of dreams, but accepting a drink from this stranger while in his car is where I draw the line.

“I’ll pass,” I say, and I am relieved he doesn’t push.

I lift the first dessert to him as an offer, but he shakes his head.

I get ready to dig in.

I’m really careful as I eat the dessert; I even try to be sexy with it.

He watches me in a way that inspires me—like he enjoys the show.

I can’t wait for this show to turn into the After Dark version.

When I’m halfway through, I offer him some dessert again, feeling guilty, but he shakes his head once more.

“I just wanted to watch you eat it,” he says.

Okay, weirdo—whatever floats your boat.

Once I’m done with the first dessert, he says, “Are you ready for me to drive you home?”

His voice is different, lower. Sexier.

I nod. What the hell—it’s a twenty-minute drive and I live alone.

Yeah, that’s right—I’m willing to do it right here during the drive or let this strange man into my apartment. However it happens, I’m good with it. I have made my peace with myself.

I need to feel this guy close to me, feel our bodies connect—hot skin against hot skin.

I tear through the second dessert.

As we pull up outside my apartment building he says, “I have a proposition for you.”

Oh boy, here it comes!

I can barely contain my excitement.

“I don’t know what you make at the restaurant, but I’m sure I can beat it by far. How would you like to work for me?”

My soaring emotions fall drastically—as if suddenly weighed with an anvil. My body stops vibrating and my smile wipes clean.

There’s no way he went through all of this just to offer me a job.

And what does he mean work for him—as his escort or lay-for-a-week or something?

I’m not sure I’m offended just yet.

“You need to tell me a little more than that, Richard.”

“In my home,” he says, “I need help with a few things around the house.”

Everything in me takes a final plunge.

Does he expect me to clean for him? Make his food? Did he have a childhood nanny who looked like me and now he wants another plump, dark-skinned caretaker?

“Do I look like some mammy to you?”

His brows raise and he looks utterly confused. “Excuse me?”

“Do I look like some sort of cook? A butler? Do I look like I’m here to serve you?”

“You’re a server,” he says, and I slap him hard.

I didn’t even think about it—my hand just raised up and found his cheek quite happily.

He brings his hand to his cheek, looking stunned, and I get ready to leave his stupid luxury car.

“Kiss my ass,” I spit at him before turning toward the door, but before I can get it open, I hear the locks engage.

I try the door anyway, and yup, it’s locked.

Fear starts passing through me.

I try to think what I have on me that I could use as a weapon if needed.

Damn it— Maggie kept telling me to get mace since I started taking public transportation and taxis, and I kept forgetting!

“Your wish is my command,” he growls in a voice even deeper than before, and before I know it, he has climbed over me.

My mind blanks, and I get even wetter instantly.

I try to hold on to my anger, try to remember why I was so mad in the first place as he starts working on my pants.

“Stop it,” I say, slapping at his hands.

“Do you really want me to?” he says, looking at me directly, and with those rich, stormy eyes on me, I can refuse him nothing.

He continues working on my pants.

But he’s not serious, is he? He’s literally going to kiss my ass?

He pulls my pants down and then grabs my ass cheek with his teeth, biting it sort of firmly before nibbling at it. With every graze or press of his lips and teeth, a sharp tingle goes straight from that point of contact to my throbbing mound.

“I’ve wanted to do that the moment I saw you,” he says after his next nibble, and then he kisses my agitated area and moves to pull my pants back up.

I whimper involuntarily.

“You don’t want me to stop,” he says knowingly, arresting me with his eyes again.

I don’t want to have to go through the indignity of verbally agreeing with him—he had recently insulted me, after all.

“Your wish is my command,” he says again, and then he pulls my pants the rest of the way down, pulling my panties down with it, and as self-conscious as I suddenly feel, my tingling core is louder than anything and wants whatever he’s about to give it.

He stares at me for a moment, and I swear he licks his lips.

The next thing I know, he has buried his face in my center.

I cry out immediately, the sudden contact of his soft lips and then his wet, slithering tongue is almost too much for me.

I know he won’t have to be down there long because it’s been far too long for me—over a year of celibacy—and he is working my pulsing folds with his mouth so well, I’m going to come all over his face soon.

He slides his tongue across and between all the parts of my needy middle, flickering his tongue over my entrance and even penetrating it a bit. He surprises me with glances of his wet tongue across my sensitive clit, making me jump while teasing me with light touches and caresses.

Then he starts eating me with more urgency, clamping down on my needy mound and licking in earnest, probing all my yearning parts.

I start rotating my hips a little, taking all the pleasure I can from his tongue and lips against my hot, wet pussy.

When he moans against my center like he’s the one getting all the pleasure, I almost come right then. But then he starts wagging his tongue over me with a finger dipping inside me, and I start thrusting toward him, fucking his face. I feel orgasm build and build with each lick and suck, and when he starts working the bud of my clit with his finger, I explode, coming hard against his face with one last thrust against it.

He moans against me again and it heightens my climax.

I am left breathless, and I stay there, pulsing and helpless, as rippling orgasmic sensations pass over me.

It takes me a while to come to my senses, and when I do, I quickly pull my pants up, and embarrassment begins a slow crawl over me.

He swipes at his mouth.

“You’re delicious,” he says, his lips tilting into a lewd smile.

My cheeks hot, I move toward the door again.

“Are you going to let me out now?” I say when I realize it’s still locked.

I feel sort of used, but I’m not sure I hate it because after eating those delicious desserts and the oral gift from him, wasn’t I the one using him? Plus, after that tip he gave, it’s like he paid me to give me pleasure, and I haven’t figured out how to be mad at that yet.

“Not before I explain myself,” he says.

I cross my arms, waiting. I sure as hell needed some kind of explanation for that job offer.

“When I asked you to work for me, you jumped to conclusions; I don’t want you to work for me in the capacity that you thought. I am in need of an assistant, and I would love for you to help me with various tasks, none of which includes fetching my coffee. I respect you and your capabilities, Cherise, and I know your résumé goes beyond this.” He pointedly looks at my uniform.

I start feeling offended again. “Okay, Richard—this is a perfectly good job with lots of smart, talented people…”

“Again, I’m not insulting you or the job or those who do your job—I happen to respect honest work in all its forms, regardless of what you might have assumed about me. I just strongly suspect you’re ready to move on from this type of work, and I’m simply offering you a new opportunity. I’m willing to pay you more than double what you earn now—at minimum. I don’t know what you actually make—my sources have put you guys at about fifty grand a year, including tips.”

Okay, so say I happened to be one of those pulling fifty grand a year—this guy’s willing to shove me into the six-figure club just like that? For what, making copies and data entry or something? Talk about being overpaid.

I’m tempted, but I don’t know this guy, and I don’t quite trust him, despite him eating my pussy with perfection, and making me come to the point that I actually saw stars.

This whole thing wigs me out, and it’s too much for me to process all at once.

For now, I just need to get out of his car—it’s way too hard to say no to him when he’s so close to me, looking at me with those eyes.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, “Now, if you please.” I indicate the door with a tip of my head.

“Of course,” he says, then gets his driver to unlock the doors.

I flood with embarrassment again as I remember the man at the helm.

Oh god, did his driver hear me? With all those moans?

I guess it’s far too late for modesty.

As I’m exiting, I say, “Thanks for the ride,” and mumble “and the other stuff,” and with my glance back, I notice Richard’s chiseled face break into a panty-melting smile.

“If you think that’s all there is, Cherise, you are severely mistaken. I’ll see you very soon.”

The door closes right away, but the car stays in place until I’ve opened my door and I’m about to enter my apartment.

I am only faintly aware of the sitting limo as I process Richard’s words, and I conclude with certainty I’ll see him on my next shift, given his obstinacy so far, and I look forward to it.

As I lock my door behind me, it hits me far too late that I never gave Richard my address or directions to my apartment.

CHAPTER THREE: RICHARD

My god, that Cherise is delectable.

The scent of her is still on my lips, and it is not doing my raging dick any favors.

I am still sitting outside of her apartment, fighting myself, urging myself not to follow her up those stairs to the inside of her apartment where I can plunge my hungry cock into her warm, slick, welcoming depths.

I had no plans to take her tonight—I want to seduce her slowly, wrap her tightly in my web.

She is more than willing to satisfy both of our carnal needs, but she is not quite ready for all I have to offer, and I need her to be on board with my ultimate plan.

She is not like the others I run into day-to-day, and not even like some of those who work around her—those other servers sending me very clear “I’m available and willing” looks.

Sure, she was more than willing tonight, but that is not all I want from her, and for what I want, I can tell she’ll be a harder nut to crack.

After a few agonizing moments of deliberation, I give my driver the command to take off, blood still rushing through my body and with a raging hard-on, but I am a patient man.

There’ll be more than enough time to give sweet Cherise what’s coming to her.

Even her slap turned me on, and boy is she gonna pay for that.

Seducing her won’t be the hardest part, but getting her to see my larger plan as beneficial to her will be.

Still, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my personal and professional life, it’s that no matter how principled or moral someone thinks they are, no matter how much they think they’re above something, everyone has a price.

Cherise did agree to come with me tonight, after all—one of the hardest parts is over.

It was a happy accident running into Cherise the first time.

She didn’t see me or have any awareness of my presence, and I suspect it would frighten her to know how long I’ve been watching her since I’ve had my eye on her from that day forward.

In the days before seeing her for the first time, I had been thinking about various ways I could stick it to my dick of a granduncle.

Although I made my own millions, I inherited some of his billions upon his death since, according to him, I showed so much promise, and I was on my way to becoming the new him.

He couldn’t stand his own son, and I guess I ended up his favorite among the Davenport male heirs—probably because I’m the child of his favorite nephew. In any case, he trusts me to keep the line and family traditions going.

He wanted so badly to impose racist stipulations on the inheritance—to make sure it didn’t fall into ‘wrong hands,’ but unfortunately for him, the law doesn’t let people get away with such terms.

I was always aware of his nasty views, but I never had to be around him much, so I didn’t bother acknowledging them.

But in my boredom one day, I did some snooping around and ended digging deep into our family’s history. I spent days researching, uncovered many unsavory parts of it, to say the least.

I realized my father’s family pretty much got where they are off of the backs of slaves.

Sure, no big surprise there, and once I discovered that part, I tried to remember how normalized it was back then, how common.

But then I came across a news article in the archives detailing a particularly vicious incident.

To see my family’s name attached to a story so bloodcurdling that it made headlines rotted my gut.

As if the present day backstabbing and cutthroat business practices—not to mention the casualties in their personal lives falling victim to their bloodthirsty ambition—wasn’t enough.

Most people I know don’t have a conscience about these things, but I have been cursed with one, and I felt tainted. It all weighed heavily on me until all I could do was desperately try to wash my hands of it in some way, try to find some way to pass on my granduncle’s precious blood money to unwitting beneficiaries—especially representatives of the last group on earth he’d share his ill-gotten wealth with.

I kept my mouth shut about my discoveries—I wasn’t going to risk losing my inheritance when I’d have the chance to do something with it.

I bided my time, and soon, my granduncle was gone.

The need to somehow make up for my family’s past never left me, and I went about it rather clumsily at first—dumping wads in hats or buckets of street musicians.

Then I tried more meaningful gestures—sending flowers to random hospital patients, for example, and although it felt good at the moment, I was left feeling empty by the end of the day.

I still felt a strong sense of duty, but couldn’t quite figure how to carry it out.

I realized I needed to be more methodical and that my guilt was making me uncharacteristically sloppy.

Then I caught sight of Cherise one day, her lovely frame and sunny expression catching my attention long enough for me to see her hand one of the two plastic bags of food in her hand to a homeless man on the sidewalk. She didn’t even just hand it to him and take off—she stood there, in what I can only imagine was air heavy with human stench, and had a brief conversation with him, smiling the whole time, looking engaged. It appeared to be a sort of “How are you today” type deal, and I tore my eyes away from her to look at the beggar left behind, and saw that his face remained lit up with a dingy, gap-toothed smile for a while.

The generosity she displayed split my heart open, and I kept my eyes on her for days and found myself even more impressed.

Every single day she brightens this homeless man’s day—she’ll always have food for him, water. Once, she even brought him a book, and he looked so excited to receive it, I can only imagine it was something he had specifically requested, or that he had otherwise brought up in one of their conversations.

I learned that her generosity went beyond a single individual— that she volunteers at a few places in her spare time—at libraries for children, projects for veterans.

Watching her gave me an idea, and I suddenly knew how to proceed.

I realized that she was the answer to all my desires—that she was the one; she would be my beneficiary.

I didn’t expect the one to be so sensually attractive, so utterly captivating with curves that stirred my imagination and my cock, however. I didn’t expect to find a woman so generous in heart and spirit to have such a generous ass, begging for my touch, my firm grip as I plow her from behind and take in that delicious derriere before me.

I longed to grab her breasts as I plunge into her, and with my blood stirred and fantasies haunting me, there was no question: I had to have her.

Everything I was looking for—conscious or not—was encapsulated in Cherise; she would help me realize my ultimate goal.

Cherise has a big heart, and I want to be inside of it, amongst other things.

I had to think quickly how to woo her.

Generally, I like going to restaurants alone.

I’ve discovered some people fear doing so, and they cannot understand why I enjoy time with myself, but it works for me. When I relax, it includes the luxury of not having someone yapping in my direction—I get enough of it from colleagues, lawyers, associates.

When I take a woman for company, I also require that she shut her mouth most of the time—the most beautiful woman can easily turn you off by speaking.

I haven’t been interested in extended companionship until recently—boredom usually hits anywhere between two hours and a week.

I accepted what a woman is to be to me: a pretty thing that smells good and warms my dick for a bit, and who gracefully—and silently—exits. Our arrangement is mutually beneficial since the woman gets a moment of feeling like royalty—maybe even a nice trip or designer shoes straight off the runway, or whatever makes them feel like they aren’t outright prostitutes.

This type of relationship has always suited me, and I have found most women to be empty vessels simply wanting to find a way to latch her claws into my money.

But this time was different.

I felt more than just a burning curiosity about Cherise and went about my plan to introduce myself to her, to find a way to bring her home to me.

I didn’t completely make up having something for her to do—I have decided on setting up scholarship funds for underprivileged kids; I want her to administer it.

Running into Cherise produced another unexpected result—not only do I want her working with me on my pet project, not only do I want to bury myself in her soft, warm body, I want Cherise to carry my child.

CHAPTER FOUR: CHERISE

“He asked for you again,” Maggie says, giving me a pointed look.

I’ve been trying to act cool the whole time since arriving for my next shift, and I had to try much harder once Richard showed up at the restaurant again.

The whole night, I couldn’t stop thinking about him—the way he looked at me, the storm in his eyes, the suggestion of firm, broad shoulders and muscles underneath his white dress shirt, his immaculately cut hair.

Don’t even get me started on the way his lips felt on my ass cheeks, the way he worshipped my pussy.

When I got in bed last night, I couldn’t help rubbing myself, fingering my still-tingling folds to thoughts of him and the delicious memories of our intimate encounter.

I tried to tell myself that was all there was to it—that I was satisfied for now and can search for a more long-term cock to satisfy me later.

But tell that to my body.

I want Richard to be the one to fill me; I need him to plunge my depths.

I won’t be satisfied until I know what it feels like to have Richard’s cock push inside me, his pelvis thrusting against mine.

Still, I roll my eyes dramatically at Maggie’s words.

“Oh, boy,” I say, hoping I pulled off looking slightly annoyed.

“Don’t roll your eyes like that! You know any of us would take him in a heartbeat. Christ, how much of a tip did he leave you last time? Almost a grand?”

“I know. And I’m grateful. But he makes it so clear he thinks he can just buy me.”

She gives me a slightly disgusted look.

“Get over yourself, girl. He likes you, and he has made no secret of wanting you for whatever reason.”

I try not to get offended by her phrasing; after all, I’ve thought the same thing.

“I mean, he leaves you a butt-load of money any of us would kill for—some of us, literally—and you don’t like the way he flirts with you? You don’t think you could go out with him once?”

“See that’s just it—I don’t owe him anything!”

“Girl, I would blow him—right now, in front of everybody—for less.”

I giggle, despite the unexpected flash of jealousy and possessiveness surging through me.

“No, you wouldn’t,” I say with a smile.

She smiles back and the tension is finally released.

“I’m only exaggerating a little,” she says. “The only reason I wouldn’t is because someone would probably make a Vine of it or something.”

I slap her arm playfully as I laugh, then take a breath before going to him.

“Welcome back, Richard,” I say with a plastered-on smile as I reach his table.

“Hello, my sweet Cherise,” he says. “Wonderful to see you again. I’d like to try something different tonight.”

Why did I get the feeling he wasn’t talking about food?

“Do you want me to pick again?”

“You did a fabulous job the last time, but this time, I will choose.”

Again I sense some double talk.

He rattles off his picks for the evening.

“But like last night, I’d like you to bring dessert out with the check.”

“You’ve got it!” I say in my usual chipper server voice.

Does he want me to have dessert in his car with him again? Is he planning to take me all the way this time?

He is definitely up to something, and again, I am powerless to resist. Damn this friggin’ curiosity! Damn these hormones, this dry spell, his cologne, those hypnotizing eyes!

I go about getting his drinks.

When I’ve returned from giving him his appetizers, Maggie accosts me.

“So, has he made a move on you yet?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Has he asked you out directly?”

I am bursting with excitement, my body alive and pulsing, and sharing a bit of the excitement might help me calm down a bit. Or would it?

I can’t tell her everything, of course, but maybe I can share a little—after all, she and I have been friends for over two years.

But could I really trust her? Should I?

I look into her brown eyes and decide to go with it.

“Okay, you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone, but…”

I give her a quick rundown, skipping the cunnilingus part.

“…And when I got inside, I realized I never told him where I lived!”

“Okay, now that’s kind of creepy, even for a hot guy. I guess he’s been stalking you?”

I shove her lightly. “Don’t joke like that.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know what else to say. I mean, he seems to know more about you than you think. Why and how, who knows? Maybe that’s how gazillionaires roll—background checks on everybody, including pieces of tail.”

Her phrasing twists me.

Was that really all I would be to him? A piece of tail?

Hearing her say it somehow makes it seem worse.

“Anyway, don’t sweat it,” she continues. “Sounds like you’d have a hard time fighting him, and since you’re not really trying to fight him since you went in his car and let him drive you home and everything, just go with it. See where it goes. Hell, I know the hostesses and busboys don’t mind if you string him along a bit longer, and he comes in here dropping stacks till he gets you to go out with him.”

Which I’m definitely going to do tonight, but I try to think of how I can take control of the situation again; I can’t let him have this kind of power over me—it’s far too dangerous.

I have little experience with relationships, in general, but I’ve had friends who were in them, and I’ve witnessed all kinds of dynamics. The one where the guy has all the power—one way or the other—is usually the saddest one.

I never had a boyfriend in high school, and I’ve only had one boyfriend, in fact—I met him at my first job and we were together for years. Like my brother, I had to jump right into the adult world, but while he went off to join the Army, I started work in minimum-wage data entry job, then left when a friend convinced me to get into restaurant gigs where, on top of minimum wage, we’d get tips.

I’m not sure I regret the decision—especially when it has led me to Richard.

I am under no delusion that our chemistry is a unique thing; this guy has money and steamy good looks—a heady combination—and I can see that he has the same power he has over me over lots of other women.

I might not be that experienced, but I don’t judge my friends for having casual relationships—everyone needs to scratch an itch sometime, and it seems my time has finally arrived.

I think I’ll go with him tonight and let us finally quench this fire between us, then go on my merry way, as he’s sure to do. We part ways satisfied.

I’m pretty much terrified as I bring out the dessert and the check.

My heart is pounding so hard, I’m actually afraid it might give out, or that I’ll black out from the pressure.

“I want you to meet me outside again,” Richard says as he drops a stack of hundreds again. “You know where.”

As I head back to the station to clock out, I notice the lead hostess sending me a different kind of look—not the usual “I’m going to pretend I don’t see you” or “God, will you lose some weight!” look.

I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I pull Maggie aside at the first opportunity.

“Please tell me you didn’t tell her,” I say, still holding her by the arm.

“Of course I didn’t!” She pulls away. “You told me not to tell anyone and I definitely wouldn’t tell her.”

“Then why is she looking at me so weirdly? Like she knows something?”

Maggie’s silence gets heavy.

“I mean, I mentioned you and Mr. HotPants would probably be getting better acquainted soon when Brenda said she was thinking of slipping him her number.”

Oh boy.

Brenda is the other pleasantly plump server with the huge boobs.

I guess she noticed he liked what he saw on me and figured he was into big girls so she had a chance too.

“I didn’t give any specifics!” Maggie insists. “I just said you guys had a chance to talk after your shift, that’s all—I was trying to discourage her.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

No doubt Brenda has already passed that tidbit on to more than one person, and in no time, it hit the hostess stand.

Why is it so hard for people to understand that one leak is all it takes to flood a ship?

“Girl, I’m so sorry. Look, I even told her you didn’t go home with him when she asked.”

“But did you tell her he dropped me home?”

Why, why, why did I mention that part?

Maggie’s guilty look tells me all.

My emotions take a turn for the worst, and I am sad and angry at once.

“Maggie, you know as far as these guys are concerned now, I simply didn’t tell you the rest and in their minds, he banged me five ways from Sunday!”

What is wrong with people? How do you pretend Please don’t tell anyone doesn’t mean exactly that? For these very obvious reasons?

But I should have known better—never trust anyone with anything sensitive.

One person is all it takes to turn a secret into public knowledge. Or public speculation—which is sometimes worse. Mean-spirited or not, people will always find an opportunity to betray you and let some juicy morsel slip.

I know that hostess is going to twist things now that she’s gotten a whiff of scandal, and who knows what the story will look like once she’s done with it.

Great. I haven’t even had sex with the guy yet and now everyone will probably think I’m a slut. That my skanky, desperate, rotund ass went home with a complete stranger.

Everyone knows he left me a lot of money the last time, and now some of them will probably see his generosity as payment for other services rendered.

My emotions are all over the place and hanging over them all is a sense of dread.

Am I ruined here now?

I’ve always been proud of my rep—never even had an opportunity to get a bad one—and now this. Reputation is the easiest thing to destroy, and one of the hardest things to rebuild.

“I’m sorry!” Maggie says again, looking like she means it.

Thing is, you can’t take back things like this, and I know for sure not to trust Maggie now.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trashing our friendship over this; I just know how to proceed.

I like hanging out with her and going to the movies and whatnot, but I can’t tell her anything real—not unless I expect her to slip at some point.

Guess I’ll have to seriously consider Richard’s job offer now—I might need a backup plan.

CHAPTER FIVE: CHERISE

After freshening up, I get ready to meet Richard outside.

I head straight to his limo, and when he gets out and opens the door for me with a beautiful smile, I realize I might have made the biggest mistake of my life when my heart flutters.

I feel like I’m getting used to him already—like an addiction is beginning.

“You’re gonna give me a ride tonight too?” I ask as I enter the limo.

“More than that,” he says, his wording almost stopping my heart.

I’m afraid to ask what he means.

“You are ruining my diet,” I say as he insists I start digging into a dessert.

I’ll definitely save one for later this time—it’s too much richness at once.

“I love you just the way you are, Cherise,” he says, and my heart does a flip-flop.

Why the hell did he say it like that? Doesn’t he know how those words chemically affect my brain and biologically affect my body?

Just say, “I happen to like plump chicks”—don’t frickin’ use the word ‘love!’

Ugh! This man is so much trouble. That was probably a calculated move to fuck with me.

“Have you thought more about my job offer?” he asks.

I certainly have thought about it.

I only had three shifts this week, and though his tip from last night—and tonight—more than makes up for the lack of shifts, I have to think about the long term here.

The decision seems obvious, of course—he is offering me at least double my usual salary, and I am now wary about the atmosphere at my current job.

Everything was fine until he came along, and now, things are probably gonna get weird, and for ten dollars an hour, it doesn’t seem worth it anymore.

Plus, I’ve been dying to try something new.

Plus, any chance to be around this guy more is a hell of a temptation.

There are just so many pros, I don’t know why I haven’t said yes already.

But, of course, I do: the main con is that this guy is potentially dangerous for me.

I can feel that he is capable of sweeping me off my feet in record time, and in perhaps as short a time, he can shatter me to pieces whenever he decides he’s had enough of me.

Dealing with day-to-day bullshit while still having your wits about you is one thing—dealing with day-to-day bullshit while your heart is scattered in pieces…well, that’s another thing altogether. A heartrending breakup is too stressful a thing to take on while living check to check.

I don’t mind going ahead with satisfying my main desire, but I decide to make it a one-shot deal—one night only. If he gets in my pants, I must take it for what it is and be happy I get to get off with such a specimen, then move the fuck on fast.

The longer he gets to keep me, the worse it’ll be for me when it ends, so for my sake, it ends tonight.

“Yes, I have,” I say, “And I’m still undecided.”

“Well, lucky for you, I want you to check out your potential workplace,” he says. “Tonight.”

When I give him a look, he says, “Yes, I’d like you to come back to my place.”

Boy, there’s a line I recognize; I know exactly what that means.

“You think I only mean to seduce you,” he says when I don’t respond.

I realize he doesn’t deny that that is his intention.

“Cherise, what is your dream job? Your ultimate goal?”

My ultimate goal is to be stable and have time to volunteer.

I’m still young, and I know it could take a while to get to the point where one feels fairly safe—not having to worry about this bill or that and be able to repair wrecked cars without wondering how to pay the rent.

As for my dream job? I want a job that actually makes a difference. Sure, I can help someone’s night go better over the course of their meal with a smile, but I want more.

“Well, I haven’t exactly nailed down the details yet, but I’d like to have a meaningful job—one that actually makes a positive difference in people’s lives. Young people, probably. A lot of people, either way. I haven’t exactly figured out which way to go just yet, and being a teacher is out of the question; I’m not inclined that way.”

He smiles at me, and I feel like I’ve fallen into some type of trap.

“Consider this the beginning of a trial period for both of us. If you have time this weekend, I’d like you to try the position out. It is, of course, a paid trial, and it’ll give you more time to acquaint yourself with me and my ways. We will both get the chance to see if this arrangement can work for us. During your trial, you won’t have to worry about meals or anything—I have personal chefs and cooks who will take care of us, whether morning, afternoon, or evening. Your hours will not be set—you will work for me from when I need you to…well, whenever I can let you go.”

What the hell did that mean? I’m starting to think his salary offer is appropriate after all.

I start wondering how I’ll travel to him every day, then I catch myself and have to remind myself that I’m not actually going to take him up on his offer—beyond tonight that is.

“What do you do, Richard?” I ask, clearly surprising him.

It takes him a moment before he answers me.

“I am a silver spoon bastard, you might say, so I don’t have to do much of anything—though I do. I stay on the boards, keep my family’s legacy going one way or another. I haven’t really had to work for anything my whole life, though I have spearheaded a few projects and organizations. My latest is more of a pet project, hence why I must be extra picky about who I want to work with me. It is to be kept under wraps to some degree, and I believe you are the right person for the job; it is right up your alley, it seems.”

Boy, he sure knows how to pique my curiosity.

“Tell me more about it,” I say.

“I’ll tell you more when we get home.”

Damn, what a tease.

“Fine,” I say, unable to stop a small smile.

I will go with him and check out his mansion or castle or whatever the fuck he lives in, but the extended trial bullshit can’t happen.

As the limo takes off, anticipation fills me. I’m about to go to this guy’s house—about to see where this sexy specimen lives.

I take heart in the fact that he didn’t just invite me to some hotel room.

When I break this dry spell, it will at least be on the silken sheets of a king-sized bed in a huge mansion.

As we pull up to Richard’s place, my mouth falls open.

I tried to imagine various possibilities, but I was unprepared for the sprawling residence before me, the luxuries hinted at within.

Holy cow—all the tiredness from being on my feet all night dissolves instantly.

This man sure knows how to energize me.

A butler greets us at the door, and as Richard starts to walk me through, I can barely hear him as he points out this and that, my eyes taking in all the signs of his wealth—from the chandeliers and grand piano and paintings to the shining vases and expensive-looking couches.

Whatever he’s saying is pretty much Greek to me anyway, although I do recognize a name or two.

We walk through the foyer to the kitchen, and then instead of taking me upstairs, he takes me to the back and we exit to an outside area with a sprawling pool and a bar setup, umbrellas, and soft-looking chairs, and more immaculately sculpted foliage surrounding the area.

“This is all…so much. Of everything. And only you live here?” I ask, looking at him.

“Well, you met James, my butler—he lives in the servants’ quarters, and he’s always around when I need him. Plus, I have a cook, a few maids…”

“No, I mean…” I shouldn’t feel bad for him, but for some reason, I do. “All this space, and essentially you live alone?”

“I can have company when I need it,” he says, looking at me pointedly.

I know what he means, but still, it’s not quite what I was getting at.

“But don’t you ever get lonely?” I can’t help asking.

“You must be exhausted,” he says with a smile, completely ignoring my question. “I’m so sorry I’ve kept you on your feet. How about we discuss the job at the pool?”

The thought horrifies me for several reasons.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” I say.

“Don’t worry about it—I have several for you to choose from.”

“I don’t wear other people’s swimsuits.”

He laughs. “These are brand new, specially picked out for you.”

He stares, waiting for my next response.

I don’t like the way I look in a swimsuit, I want to say, but I know he’ll brush it off, or worse, say something like “I love the way you look in anything.”

“It’s cold,” I say.

His smile doesn’t falter. “The pool is heated. Also, I have a Jacuzzi—take your pick. And if you don’t want to get wet, I’ll just have someone come down and massage you.”

It’s like he’s throwing glitter in my eyes, so I close my eyes to think, hoping it would help me stay logical and focused—especially since I’m blocking out his irresistible face.

I don’t know many people who would give this up, but I have to put my foot down. I can’t let him distract me with luxuries.

But that massage sure sounds nice. So does the Jacuzzi.

I don’t know the last time I had a massage. Almost two years ago, I think—my ex got it for my birthday or something.

I’m embarrassed when I mumble, “A massage sounds pretty great,” and the smile he gives somehow sends a zap right to my center.

“You’ll still have to strip down,” he says.

I finally relent.

Once I change into a swimsuit, I emerge with a towel wrapped around me, and I join him poolside, settling onto my stomach onto the massage table, as directed, to wait for the masseuse.

Richard is swimming the length of the pool, and I briefly wonder if he specially ordered this massage table for me too—it is wide and soft, and I could easily fall asleep on it if it wasn’t for the sight of him in the pool, his torso finally bare, his strength on display as he powers through the water.

I watch him freestyle his way toward me, then, when he grabs on to the edge of the pool and gazes at me, I smile at him.

My eyes get stuck on his abs as he pulls himself out of the pool, dries off a bit, then grabs one of the bottles of massage oils.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Preparing to give you a massage.”

“I thought you had someone for that?”

“I said I’ll have someone come down to do it, and here I am. Why would I hand a task like this off to someone else? Besides, I have sent everyone away for now.”

He pulls my cover off and oils his hands.

I feel self-conscious as his hands begin to knead my soft flesh.

My body still responds to his touch, my pussy starting to buzz, but I worry what he’s thinking as his hands work my back, my shoulders. I wonder what he thinks of my nearly-bare ass.

As if he senses my worry, he says, “You are so beautiful, Cherise.”

Something in his voice makes me turn to look at him, and the look in his eye freezes me.

He looks like an animal about to pounce, and the next thing I know, his head is descending toward me, and his mouth is on mine.

He explores my mouth greedily, his tongue acquainting itself with mine.

He nudges me to turn over and his hands continue to roam my body, passing over my breasts, his thumb grazing my nipples and sending sharp tingles through me.

Then he begins to work my swimsuit down and off, not breaking the contact of our lips until he has to.

In no time, it seems, I am naked before him, and while he is kissing me again, he works his trunks down.

When he pulls away, I finally see his cock in its huge, engorged upright glory, right before he moves to position himself between my legs, pulling me down a bit on the table before clamping down on my pussy with his soft lips, his tongue making me squirm and moan loudly.

He slithers his tongue all over me, his hands continuing to make their way across my hips, my thighs.

Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he raises himself to climb over me, his strong arms now on each side of me, and I feel the head of his cock at my dripping, hungry center.

“Cherise,” he says softly, kissing me once more before moving his mouth to nibble on my neck and driving me crazier as electricity jolts through me with every brush of his lips, every graze of his teeth, his tongue.

“I’m sorry—I can’t wait any longer,” he says, then his cock starts pushing its way inside me.

I’m relieved he didn’t ram it in because it’s been so long that it feels like the first time, and I wince a little from the friction of his rod parting my walls.

“God, you’re so tight,” he says, pushing all the way in so that our pelvises are touching each other.

With him balls-deep in me, my desire and need overrides everything, and all I want is for him to start pounding me in earnest.

To my utmost relief and joy, he does just that, pulling his cock out and then ramming it back in with dizzying rhythm.

I forget everything, surrendering to his hard body over mine, the sight of his broad shoulders, his hard chest, his rippling abs.

His cock plunges my hungry core while his mouth finds my breasts and suck them hard.

At some point, he puts his hands underneath my ass cheeks and starts thrusting in me harder, deeper.

Soon, there is nothing I can do but surrender to the orgasm slowly taking over me.

It builds and builds as I moan and cry out his name, and when he groans my name in return, his masculine tones travel through my body, making me grip him tighter.

I try to burn the sight of his handsome face above me as he takes pleasure from my body into my mind to save for later, and I find myself turned on even more by the intensity in his eyes as he takes me in while fucking me silly, his sculpted ass rising and falling hypnotically.

“I’m going to come,” he says, just as I am thinking the same.

His movements intensify, and I realize too late there’s nothing between us—no rubber, no pill.

“Richard…” I begin, but I can tell it’s too late.

His grunting climax, as he squeezes hard against my pussy hastens my own climax, and soon, we are pulsing against each other, his cum pumping into me.

My god.

He collapses on top of me, and I wrap my arms around him.

Our hearts pound against each other.

It’s all amazing, but I can’t believe I was so careless; I have to take a morning-after pill as soon as possible.

My grave error only underscores how much I need to keep my eyes open when it comes to this man.

I look at the sky above us, the stars winking at me while I hold him close.

Maybe I’ll do the trial period after all, and get in a few more rounds with this hot specimen. Then, for real this time, it’ll be over—I’ll just go back to the restaurant and clarify that nothing happened between…

Shit, I’ll have to lie now, and I’m not the best liar.

Richard suddenly squeezes me to him and warmth runs through me.

A girl could get used to this.

I am horrified when I realize I spoke those words aloud.

“Your wish is my command,” he says quietly.

My cheeks flush.

“Okay, I guess it’s pretty obvious by now I’ll do the trial period,” I say.

He raises his head from my shoulder to smile a dazzling smile at me.

“Great,” he says. “We’ll begin first thing in the morning—around nine a.m. That will give us enough time to get ready, shower, and any other activities. Plus have time for breakfast.”

It seems he has misspoken, so I try to clarify.

“What time would you like me to be here?”

He looks at me like I missed something.

“Sweet Cherise, you will already be here. It’s Friday and your trial begins tomorrow, so you are staying with me tonight.”

Wait a minute—I didn’t sign up for that!

It sure as hell sounds delicious, though—sleep with him on a nice, huge soft bed, his hard body within reach the whole night? Sign me up!

“But I don’t have any of my things here,” I say in a final lame protest. I pretty much know what he’s going to say next.

“You will have all you need, and what I haven’t already supplied, I will get for you—just name it. Now let’s start by getting clothed again. But first, let’s take a shower,” he says.

He moves to get off of me, and I lament the fact that his warm body is leaving mine, his cock departing me.

“While we’re cleaning up, I’ll have a chef whip up some snacks for us and serve them to us at the Jacuzzi. We’ll have drinks as well—what’s your favorite?”

I mumble “lemon drop,” still sort of dazed.

It all sounds way too good to be true, but I know it is, and I accept the fact that I’ve been blessed temporarily.

I prepare to surrender myself to a few days of luxury and pleasure.

I just to have to remember to take the morning-after pill at some point.

CHAPTER SIX: RICHARD

Phase Two complete.

Sweet Cherise is staying with me tonight, and if all goes well, she won’t ever want to leave, and I’ll be right here, making all the necessary arrangements to keep her.

I must admit, I chuckled a bit when I let her know my intention of having her stay overnight—she looked like she didn’t know what hit her.

She is still stunned, but I have made progress with her beyond the obvious—she is already a bit more pliable to my will.

She is softening more toward me, but I am a bit alarmed to find that something similar is happening to me.

I like Cherise very much, and as a whole, she makes sense for all my needs—sexual and otherwise.

I picked her for logical reasons—she is a beautiful, humble, capable girl with delicious curves. Her inexperience is endearing, and she is generally kindhearted—a novelty in my day-to-day existence.

She is to be my companion—a smile waiting for me upon my return home, a warm, wet cavern to get lost in.

In my ever-changing world, she is meant to be my constant, and at some point, provide me with an heir.

I have been taken with her for a while—purely based on the physical and what I learned about her from my research—but finally getting to plunge my cock into her warmth turned out to be even sweeter than I thought, and I felt an unexpected crack inside.

The sounds she made while I made love to her, the look on her face—her warm, delightful presence is seeping into other parts of me.

I must not let whatever else is happening lead me to impatience—a calculated approach has always worked best.

Perhaps I should wait when it comes to moving her stuff in.

I have been confident she will happily fall into my arms and into my life, but some of the looks she has given me give me pause. If I go forward with my plan to empty her apartment and bring all of her things here, it could scare her away. She is fairly delicate and sensitive, and she might take my actions as an insult to her independence and her agency, delaying my plans.

I don’t care for further delays so I will wait until Sunday.

If all goes well, she will approve of my ultimate plan and be living with me by Monday.

As we head to the shower near the changing room in silence, I expect we will both take the moment to quietly process the wonderful moment we just had as one, but Cherise won’t have it.

“How much do you actually use this thing?” she asks as we arrive.

“Well, it’s quite convenient as you can imagine—if I want to hop in the pool but quickly wash the day off first, for example. And now, a quick rinse before the Jacuzzi means we don’t have to go inside first.”

Cherise certainly doesn’t stop there.

As she asks about various aspects of my property—how often someone comes to ‘shave’ the foliage, how many people work to maintain the grounds—I feel only warmth as she yaps on, and sometimes, I miss what she is saying because I am watching her mouth.

I can’t wait to have those luscious lips wrapped around my dick.

As we sit in the Jacuzzi, steam dancing around us and bubbles gurgling, I watch Cherise slowly break down more.

We are talking about nothing—she is still asking me questions about my life and how I operate—how I go about picking domestics and tradesmen and chefs, how long I have been living like this and was it really my whole life?

Yes, my darling.

She is surprised to find out that most of the workers are offspring of folks who have always worked for my family, and I don’t like where the conversation is going, so I offer her another drink and start listing some snack options I think she’d like.

My plan works, and she is momentarily distracted, and I keep the chatter light and frivolous.

She is clearly delighted each time our server shows up with a tray—whether he is offering food or collecting our glasses.

Luxury is seductive, but I know she needs more from me to really dive in, so I shove aside our petty chatter and begin to delve into my plans for the project.

I give her enough seductive details that she is, no doubt, burning with curiosity and is eager to learn more and get hands-on.

I was pretty sure I had her interest before—that she had silently already committed to me in this way—but by now, as I watch her eyes continue to light up with the possibilities, there is certainly no question: Hook.

Her manner has changed.

We are done with the Jacuzzi and are about to head back inside and toward the master bedroom.

She knows what’s coming—I am about to take her again.

She is still somewhat tremulous, however; I feel she is in her head, thinking deeply about something.

“I want to hear it,” I say to her, making her jump a little, jarring her out of her thoughts.

“It’s just that…” She is nervous and seems embarrassed. “I’m not on the pill, Richard—you must give me a chance to grab the morning-after—perhaps on my lunch break tomorrow?”

I must choose my words carefully.

It would probably scare her to know I am not concerned about the potential consequences of our naked abandon.

“Well, I was hoping to keep you here with me all day, but I suppose we can arrange something.” I pause. “How about this—since I want to take all opportunities to be with you since you might not take the job, I’ll have someone pick it up for you instead of you leaving. You have seventy-two hours to take it, correct?”

“Correct. And the sooner, the better, so…”

“I will send someone first thing in the morning.”

“Okay,” she says, looking relieved.

But a few seconds later, she says, “But what if it’s not enough?”

I suppress a tiny bit of dread.

Surely she doesn’t want me to say that I will arrange a termination for her? I cannot imagine obliterating my child—the child I want from her.

I cannot lie, but I will not agree to such a thing; I would like to begin my life with her in earnest.

“I will take care of it,” I say. “Do not worry your pretty little head about anything—just be here with me.”

She smiles at me warmly, and I think, Line, but her warm smile unexpectedly squeezes my heart.

I have, of course, already planned how the weekend will go, but I suddenly feel a greater urgency.

I must pull out all the stops and work my magic so that the morning-after pill will be a long-abandoned thought, and Cherise is on board with remaining here with me.

Over the next two days, I must assure Cherise she is safe.

I have two days to sweep her off her feet—make her fall for me and want to jump headlong into this wave. Two days of teasing her with power and influence, among other things. Two days to give her the opportunity of a lifetime to do something with that big heart of hers. Two days for the Sinker.

CHAPTER SEVEN: CHERISE

I awaken to Richard’s morning wood pressed against my ass cheeks as I lay spooned against him on the soft, light blue sheets of his king-sized bed.

My cheeks flush with warmth at the memory of our intimacy yesterday and last night, and I can feel myself slowly getting revved up at the thought of becoming entwined with him again.

Last night, once we entered his room, he wasted no time tearing off my bathrobe and helping me out of my swimsuit before filling his mouth with my breasts, then later, my mound.

I was driven to return the favor, so instead of letting him plunge into me right away, I seized the opportunity to fill my mouth with him, and the groan of pleasure that escaped him filled me with joy and spurred me on.

His eyes almost looked worshipful as he watched me.

When he was on the brink, he shoved me onto my back on the bed and pushed his cock in deep, and we both cried out at the pleasure of having our bodies meet again.

He fucked me hard and hungrily, and I thrust against him desperately, just as starved for his movements inside me and the promise of climax against it.

I glance at the nearest clock. Seven thirteen a.m.

I rub my butt against his erection a bit and he lets out a groan.

He growls, “Do you know how long I’ve been lying here, waiting for you to get up?”

Then he lifts my leg up and tests my hot center with his fingers, learning what I already knew—I am wet and ready for him.

He adjusts our bodies so that he can slip his cock inside while we lie sideways, my leg bent back a little over his.

He quickly enters me, and as our bodies start slapping together, my butt cheeks against his pelvis, I hold on to his soft sheets, accepting his needy thrusts behind me.

He slides a hand to my front, and his fingers start playing with my pussy gently, making me moan at his gentle caresses.

Soon, a desperation for more starts to build, and he starts passing his fingers over my clit, increasing my neediness.

He works my pussy until I’m about to come against him.

As I begin to climax against his fingers, his cock still ramming me, he works me through it, then, while I’m still lost in orgasm, his hands move to my breasts, grabbing onto them while he starts pumping harder, his pelvis slapping against my ass even faster.

Soon, he goes rigid as he comes inside me hard, and we stay still for a few moments, lost in the pleasure-filled contractions of orgasm, pulsating against each other.

Once I start to get my eyesight and other senses back, it occurs to me again: I could get pregnant.

Sure, it’s a problem that can be solved with timely taking of a pill or other means, but the mere fact of its possibility is messing with me.

I don’t know this man, and I certainly can’t afford to take care of another life in my current stage—not that it would come to that. He’d probably take care of me as he said, but I don’t want to be some rich guy’s baby mama; I don’t want to be tied to someone just using me for my uterus.

But why am I even thinking this? I don’t have to think about a baby. We already addressed the whole thing, and he’s getting me the morning-after pill, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll take more drastic measures.

The thought of that sort of guts me.

The possibility of becoming pregnant has captured my imagination in an unexpected way, but Christ—a child!

I haven’t really had the time—no, the luxury—to think about it before since I can barely keep myself afloat, much less anyone else.

Even before I became alone again, it wasn’t a practical possibility with my last partner—before Richard, I’d only been with one man, and our sessions were infrequent and well-protected. I made sure to be on the pill, and he still used condoms for good measure—he already had a kid from his mid-teen years, and he didn’t want to risk having to pay more child support.

Until yesterday, I’d been celibate for a year and, at some point, simply stopped taking the pill because—well, what was the use during such a dry spell?

Plus I figured if I met someone I could get down and dirty with, it would help me to protect myself—not being on the pill would absolutely make me insist on condoms.

That plan obviously failed and Richard fried my brain so much that it didn’t even occur to me till it was too late all the risks I’d be taking.

This guy is filthy rich—my god, the number of women…

“Do not worry about your health, Cherise. As I said, I am a rather tidy man,” he says languidly from behind me.

There he goes again, reading my mind.

“But you risked having sex with me unprotected! You don’t know me from Adam…”

“Cherise, I know quite a lot about you.”

Maggie’s words suddenly come back to me: “I guess he’s been stalking you?”

“What, have you been stalking me for months or something?” I ask with a smile in my voice, my eyes glancing over, but not seeing, the fancy furnishings of his bedroom.

He hesitates before answering, pricking my senses. “Something like that.”

“Hold up—to what extent?” I ask, turning to him and suffering the separation of our bodies as his cock leaves me.

His dark gaze meets mine steadily and calmly.

I try not to get distracted by his beautifully sculpted chest and the adorable way his thick dark hair has become ruffled.

“Cherise, I am very careful whom I date, so I do my research. Now let’s grab a shower. Or, if you prefer, we can play around in the Jacuzzi tub. Either way, breakfast should be ready for us by eight so we can get ready to begin work promptly at nine. Do you have any food preferences?” he asks as he begins to sit up.

“I thought you did your research?” I say dryly as I sit up too.

He gives me a small smile as if to say, Touché.

He raises an eyebrow at me while he waits for my response.

I rattle off some of my favorite breakfast foods—omelets and French toast and blueberry pancakes included.

“Wonderful—we will be well-supplied for your needs, plus there will be a few other things for you to try; many options will be available to you.”

He extends a hand to me and I place my hand in his and follow him to his ridiculously large bathroom.

No lies were told about my options.

The breakfast bar is stacked with a beautiful display of bagels, muffins, fruit, and a few things I don’t recognize that Richard has to explain to me: caviar bites and an odd-looking quiche.

The food layout is bookended with drinks—fresh orange juice and water with lemon slices—and a chef stands near the stove, waiting to cook our omelets to our specifications.

I briefly wonder who else Richard is expecting—there is far too much food for just the two of us, although I am happy to be able to sample such a large variety.

By the time I choose all parts of my meal, I understand—it is wonderful simply to have the options.

Still, what a waste.

I couldn’t help wondering if the leftovers got dumped, and my mind flashes back to Derek—a homeless guy who hung out on the street a few blocks from my place. What a feast it would be for folks like him! Well, for anybody, really—it’s not like the food was days old.

“This would be fairly routine should you decide to work with me,” he reminds me, and amazingly, the job offer starts looking even more appealing.

CHAPTER EIGHT: CHERISE

At about a quarter to nine, Richard starts leading me away to begin our work day.

We take the stairs to the second floor and stop at a door several feet away from his bedroom.

When we enter the room, he directs me to sit in the chair in front of his desk while he goes to sit in the large, cushiony-looking leather chair behind it.

This room is very different from his bedroom and does not hint at play—it is a room of dark colors—mahogany and black—and it is filled with filing cabinets and books and folders. Unlike what I’ve seen so far, it is clearly for business only, his personal office.

He grabs a black folder and drops it on the table, then begins to pull papers out of it.

Handing me the first, he says, “Anton Robinson. Seventeen.”

I stare at the photo of the young, dark-skinned boy with the goofy smile.

“Foster care since eleven,” Richard continues. “About to age out. Honor roll throughout his various schools, and has shown a high propensity toward engineering.”

Before I can begin looking through the rest of the details underneath his photo, Richard hands me another sheet of paper.

This time, it is a photo of a light-skinned girl with lots of unkept-looking hair. She is not smiling in her photo.

“Catherine Davidson, nineteen. Ran away from home at fifteen, didn’t finish high school. Arrested for shoplifting and other petty crimes. Her psychological profile revealed a near-genius IQ.”

He hands me a few more sheets of paper, a mix of young faces.

“These are just two of the thousands of possibilities,” he says. “What you would be doing, should you accept my offer here, is helping me build a foundation. I want to establish a scholarship to help students in need. Perhaps both need- and merit-based—it is one of the things to be ironed out.”

He pushes the folder toward me.

“There are millions of kids in need of assistance, and obviously we can’t help them all—not even most—so we must decide on parameters. Do we simply choose from the applicant pool, rewarding those with the gumption to seek out and follow through an application process? Or do we search outstanding potential out, looking for those who don’t know what they don’t know when it comes to options? Do we target certain demographics, provide assistance to older candidates returning or just those fresh out of high school?”

He gets up and grabs another folder, and I am amazed to see this new side of him. He is completely in business mode.

Sitting back down and opening the new folder, he says, “Say we decide to award five million in scholarships per year—how much do we give, when, and what are the terms and conditions? Must the students maintain a 3.0 GPA or 3.5? When it comes down to the wire, why pick this person over that person? Who gets a free ride versus a little bit of help—perhaps just room and board? These are just a few of the questions we must answer. I want you to help me sort this out, Cherise, and we will have someone come in and train you on the nuts and bolts once we have begun the project in earnest.”

I flip through some of the other profiles and my heart is pounding incredibly fast.

I could have the opportunity to transform lives in gigantic ways—possibly change the course of their entire future!

I find myself incredibly energized.

My neurons are firing, and my brain is turned on perhaps even more than the way he turned on my body.

This man sure knows how to make me feel alive.

What he’s planning to do here—what we would be doing—would be a dream come true for me; I couldn’t think of a job more perfect.

At this point, I’m not sure what I’d be doing exactly, but there was no way I’d turn down the opportunity to learn.

“Let us begin,” he says before I can say anything. “I will take you through my process so far. I would love to hear any ideas you have, any insight you think you can give. I am afraid I’m fairly out-of-touch when it comes to a few things—that’s where you come in.”

I know I’m going to say yes to this job, but I don’t want to just yet; I can’t let my emotions rule with no consideration for the rest of the nitty-gritty details.

The hours pass quickly, and soon, it is lunchtime.

I don’t really want to stop, so Richard has food delivered to the room and we continue to work, bouncing ideas about while stuffing our faces.

He pretty much gives me a rundown of the way other organizations or trusts handle it, and I am learning a lot—about both the demands of the job and him.

His confidence and knowledge, his command of methods and direction, and his navigation of possibilities is intoxicating.

We manage to stay focused on the work the whole time—no innuendos or references to our intimate encounters leaking into our day, and as we near the official end of day one, there is no doubt my mind—I’m in. Way in.

For whatever reason, Richard vetted me and pre-approved me for this responsibility, and I don’t care about the details—by George, I’m taking this chance.

Around four, Richard says, “I know it’s a lot to take in, Cherise, but please don’t worry about what you don’t know at this point. As I said, I will get you all the training you need. I just want you by my side as I do this; I want you to be a part of it. Your take on things will be most invaluable.”

He must know by now he doesn’t have to lay it on so thickly.

I smile at him and say, “Okay, you’ve got me, Richard—I am more than intrigued. I feel like I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this my entire work life.”

His smile is dazzling and does something to my heart. I almost have to put a hand over it in a lame attempt to control whatever looking at him and being near him is doing to it.

“Excellent,” he says. “Now to figure where to go from here. It is Sunday tomorrow, although it’s day two of your trial period, but I suppose since we are both on board…”

“Are you kidding me? I wish I was officially starting already—right now. Contract signed, office hours laid out and everything.”

His smile widens and he says in a slightly lower voice, “Your wish is my command.”

I feel like we should shake hands or something, but considering all we’ve shared, it feels insufficient.

Luckily, Richard knows what to do next and he extends his hand to me with his palm upward, looking at my own hand.

I place my hand in his and he raises my hand to his lips and kisses it.

Now that feels right.

“Welcome aboard, Cherise. I will take care of ironing out details, such as dumping your restaurant job for you. We’ll have your resignation letter in by Monday. Now we must sort out your living arrangements.”

He seems to hesitate before he says, “I would like you to live here with me.”

I shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, that proposition catches me off guard.

I like my independence; I like having my own space.

I like being able to come home sometimes and have no one to answer to, no one I have to smile at or be there to serve—although it did get lonely a lot.

But wasn’t there a happy middle somewhere? Did you always have to pick between being smothered and isolation?

Sure, casual dating—and even serious dating, as long as you don’t move in together—accomplishes it, but a void is still there.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t think I’d be comfortable moving in here, Richard.”

The joy on his face falls away and I feel sort of bad.

“Why not?” he demands.

I shrug. “I don’t want to be someone’s live-in fuck buddy—no matter the perks.”

I see a rare break in his controlled facial expression—it’s like a shadow passes over his brown eyes.

“You would not be my ‘fuck buddy,’ Cherise.”

“Oh yeah? If I move in here, we won’t fuck?”

“Of course we will—I will fuck you silly at every opportunity. What I’m saying is that you are not just a piece of ass to me, although it is quite a remarkable ass. I want you to be my woman—don’t you get it?”

Despite the warmth and sincerity in his voice, I know what he’s really saying. In his multi-millionaire version of English, he is asking me to be his main squeeze for whatever time period he decides on. Then whenever he’s tired of me, I’ll have to go on my way and probably have to apply to the restaurant again.

God, the thought of that is terrible. No way I could go back there—it would be too embarrassing.

Either way, I’d have to rebuild everything, and maybe he’ll send me off with a tidy sum to get started, but the heartbreak, the loss of so many things I would have gotten used to over the months…

“No, Richard—I can’t move in. I realize this will jeopardize my chances with the job, but while I would love to have it, I want to drive to it every day.”

In what? some nasty little voice says from within me, but I ignore it. I can easily get my car fixed now.

“And, to be honest, as much as I love being with you, I would ask the terms of the job not include sex on the side.”

He is doing a terrible job of hiding his anger now.

I can tell he’s using some degree of restraint, but his chest is rising and falling rapidly, and his eyes are storming. I can feel a fire roaring up in him, and it has spread just enough through the air to reach me.

I witness the moment it finally consumes him and he stands.

He comes toward me and before I know it, he pulls me up from my chair and crushes his mouth against mine.

I am shocked by his fierceness.

I can feel him hard against me and I know I’m going to pay for my words as he squeezes me to him hard, his cock stabbing me while he explores my mouth roughly.

His hands tear over my body before he starts ripping my clothes off, piece by piece until I am naked before him, shocked and extremely horny all at once.

His hand finds my center and starts working it—one finger stroking my bud while another dips inside me.

“Richard,” I moan, feeling his wriggling finger start to call down an orgasm.

I can’t believe he has the power to finger me to completion like this, and so quickly!

Soon, I am ready to beg him to take me to the finish.

“Richard, please make me come…”

His fingers continue to work me, and when I can feel myself getting close, I lean my head back, accepting the incoming flood.

My G-spot erupts in climax, and while I’m still pulsating from it, he quickly brings his head to my cunt and licks my clit until I come hard against his face from the stimulation.

I swear I lost my head to the clouds; I have never had a dual climax before.

He lets me come down a bit before shoving his pants down.

“Turn around,” he says, and I obey.

He guides me to plant my hands on a free block of wall, and soon, I feel the head of his cock at my slick entrance.

He rubs against it a bit, picking up my juices before plunging inside.

He fucks me hard, my ass slapping against him as he thrusts inside of me, his large hands at my waist.

He pulls me to him, plunging deep into me with powerful thrusts until he is on the precipice of climax himself.

Then his pace speeds up until, with one final hard thrust balls-deep in me, he explodes.

I feel his cum shooting in me and remember our previous conversation.

I definitely have to take that pill as soon as I can.

His rough claim of me has weakened me a bit so that somehow, I feel even more vulnerable to him.

I almost want to apologize to him—for hurting his feelings.

Then I feel ridiculous. How could I have hurt his feelings? It’s not like he feels anything deep toward me.

Even if he did, why would I apologize? I wasn’t in the wrong—I was just answering a friggin’ question!

I just happened to give him an answer he didn’t want, and I guess he’s not used to that, so he made me pay.

Basically, he forced me to be honest with myself—there’s no way I could be around him without giving in to the temptation; whenever he wants me, I’ll give it up to him. He squeezed out of me an honest look at what this arrangement would be.

There was no mistake—if I took this job, I would be taking him—probably every day, several times a day.

Still inside me, his pelvis against my ass cheeks, he pulls me back till I’m almost upright and plants a kiss on my neck, making me shudder. It is a tentative, gentle kiss—in stark contrast to the wild, harsh fuck he just gave me.

Everything in me liquifies.

Again, I get the strong impression that this isn’t just about sex, and my voice comes out sounding softer than I would have liked when I say, “Okay, you’ve made your point, Richard—I can’t resist you; I can’t resist this.”

He pulls out of me and I turn toward him. “I accept the job and all that comes with it.”

He gives me a pointed look. “All that comes with it? Even living here?”

“I’m still having a hard time with that part. I just don’t like the idea of being cooped up here all the time, no matter how nice it is. I need to roam.”

“Cherise, I will get you a car, and you can have your own space away from me if you’d like. And as you can see, the property is quite extensive. I have unused bedrooms—feel free to use them when you’ve tired of lying next to me.”

I swear I detect hurt in his voice.

“As for office space, that is also easily arranged. We can have one set up for you away from this main house, even. Just as you would in here, I’ll have someone cater to your needs out there—breakfast, lunch, coffee. My goal is to have you take over and direct the project, and when needed, we will hire assistants for you. Are these terms more agreeable to you?”

I didn’t understand what would happen when he tired of me. In three months or so (if I’m lucky), was I just supposed to stay here and silently take it when he brings home his next squeeze? Try to ignore them at the pool while at my computer in whatever space he carved out for me?

“I just don’t understand why you want me to move in; I don’t get why I have to actually be in your house.”

“Because I want you to be. I already told you, Cherise—I want you to be my woman.”

“I get that. What I mean is, when I am no longer your woman—why do that to me? What am I supposed to do after you sever my rent contract and I have to go apartment-hunting again? That whole idea is like a nightmare to me. I get it—pros should outweigh cons and there are far more pros to your proposal than cons, but I can’t help but think what the hell I’m supposed to do after you?”

Why the hell does it feel like tears are stinging my eyes?

His voice softens tremendously, taking me by surprise, “The point is, Cherise, that I don’t want there to be an after you—I wish for you to stay with me.”

His words and tone devastate me, shattering my last defense.

Why did he sound like he meant it?

My god, this guy is a player extraordinaire.

That silver tongue—no wonder he has all this money.

“I sure wish I could believe you.”

“Then do, Cherise. I’m not just humoring you when I say I want you to be mine, that I want you to stay here. And no, I’m not slowly building some kind of harem. You, Cherise—I only want you. Not my main squeeze, my only squeeze.”

“But what if I’m not whatever you think I am? What if I disappoint you?”

He wraps his arms around me and holds me against him in a firm embrace.

I relax my head against his chest, feeling safe and treasured.

“You will never disappoint me, Cherise—not in the way you think. I pretty much knew what I was getting when I picked you, and I want…” He stops, and I long to hear the words it seems he decides not to say. “Let’s pick this up, tomorrow, shall we? After all, this is still officially your trial period; no final decisions need to be made. Let us revisit everything at six p.m. tomorrow, at dinner.”

CHAPTER NINE: CHERISE

A night of making love leaves me even more vulnerable than before. I can’t imagine any of this ending—in so short a time, I have gotten so used to everything Richard has given me. I have gotten used to him.

How can I leave now, especially when he has offered me access to him practically twenty-four-seven?

Maybe I should just go with whatever this is, however long it lasts and damn the potential heart-shattering aftermath. Why throw away all the potential beauty because of the potential devastation? One would be lucky to have a chance to reach such an emotional high. Life is made up of all these various periods, of precious moments.

Shit—period—baby—morning-after pill.

I forgot all about it yesterday, but I must remember to bring it up today.

I am eager to learn more about the job, but since it’s Sunday, and we stayed up very late last night, we get a late start.

He says we won’t do much today since we begin the real deal tomorrow, and we head to his office around noon.

When Richard gets called away from the office by a phone call, I flip through those sheets of paper representing youngsters who will possibly be at the receiving end of Richard’s generosity—people I feel like I already know a bit and can’t abandon.

I am curious about the rest of the room and must squash a desire to snoop, but soon, one of the folders on the shelf calls to me—a maroon binder.

Richard is still away and the desire to satisfy my curiosity is far too strong.

I pull the folder down and open it, and my mouth drops open in my horror, I’m sure.

There I am—various photos of me and a shit-load of pages of text.

I keep flipping through and find page after page of information about me—intimate details of my life on display in this cold, maroon binder: my résumé beyond my work résumé, my academic records. All the organizations I volunteered my time to. And if I’m not tripping, what looks like an analysis of my health—some sort of medical report.

“Nosy Nancy,” I suddenly hear from the threshold of the room in low masculine tones.

I turn to Richard, my anger spilling over.

“You’re one to talk,” I say furiously.

How dare he hint at my violation of his privacy when I am holding an entire folder of violations against mine?

I hold the folder up. “What the hell is this?” I ask, so furious that my voice comes out sounding almost calm.

“I think you already know the answer.”

“How dare you? How long have you been watching me? Where do you draw the fucking line?”

“Cherise, darling, do you think I would have offered you this job if I hadn’t done my homework first?”

“This job was probably just a way to get in my pants.”

“We both know I could have taken you that first night—I do not need such an elaborate plan to ‘get in your pants,’ and I have already gotten in them, so the job must be legitimate, yes?”

“You could have just…”

“Just what, Cherise? Everything you’ve seen so far should have prepared you for this. My darling, I am a billionaire. I have all sorts of assets to protect, and I must protect my interests at all costs. Can you really blame me for being thorough?”

Fuck, no I can’t, but still.

“This is so wrong!”

“No, my love—this is just the way it is. This kind of thing will also be a part of your job—prying into the lives of these kids. Were you offended as you looked through their profiles before? Their school records? Delinquencies? Psych evals? Family histories? I’m sorry, Cherise, but as my woman, you will lose some of that false sense of privacy—it is likely I will have bodyguards on you at some point, whether you like it or not.”

He takes long steps till he reaches me, then grabs the folder from me.

He turns to a particular page and points, holding it up to me.

“You must at least understand why I insist on having you. Look at this—these pages show you faithfully showing up to put together care packages for vets…”

“Listen, my brother was in the military. He told me about this guy who never got care packages and it broke my heart. That guy eventually died fighting for a bunch of people who didn’t give a shit about him—alone, in the midst of horror, and no love letters or acknowledgment of any kind. I’m not special—I just happened to hear that story and be moved by it.”

“Not true, Cherise, you are very special.” He turns to another page and points.

“Have you not also donated coloring books and crayons to a pediatric ward? Have you not taken the time to read books to kids in the library? Have you never volunteered at a soup kitchen? Hell, I’ve even watched you stick change into someone’s expired meter.”

He rests the folder on his desk, then grabs my hands.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Cherise. And for you to be so kind and generous on top of being so beautiful…”

“I’m not beau…”

His look silences me.

“You go easy on everyone, but you are so hard on yourself. Now, you have decided to be hard on me, no matter how much I make it clear that I want all of you. I grew up in a shark tank, Cherise—a large one, but a shark tank nonetheless. I have seen the underbelly of the business world amongst other things. You are sunshine, my sweet, and I feel like a better person just being around you, knowing you. I guess it’s selfish, but yes—I want your sunshine always near me. Your heart, Cherise—I want it.”

He pauses and I can tell he’s trying to decide whether to say his next words or not.

“More than that, I want you to have my heir; I am hoping that my seed sprouts in you.”

I am stunned.

I don’t know what to say so I stay silent.

He drops my hands when I look away, but movement from him draws my eyes back, and I watch him pull something out of his pocket.

I just stare at it, an unexpected ache tearing through my heart.

It is the morning-after pill.

“Now that I have been completely honest with you, whether it’s because you don’t trust me and my intentions yet or because you are simply not ready, here is what I promised you—feel free to take it. And if we must follow up this action with a backup plan, so be it—I don’t want to force anything on you. I need you to want everything I can give you, everything I want to give you. The choice to accept me and all of my offers is yours.”

I take the box from him and try to ignore the plunge his emotions seem to take. Everything about his body seems to droop.

I am amazed that with a simple action, it seems that I have devastated him.

His voice, when it comes, sounds resigned and sad, tugging at my heart.

“If you truly find all of my terms disagreeable, I would still like you continue to work on the project. You will remain at the head; after all, it came about as a result of you. You were my inspiration, and I wanted, all along, to hand it to you. It was meant to be your dream realized, Cherise, and I’m not going to take it all back because you don’t want to be with me. Hearts like yours deserve all the riches in the world.”

He hasn’t been looking at me, his eyes still on that box, but my eyes now drink him in. I drop the box on his desk and take his hands in mine.

“I don’t want all the riches in the world, Richard—I want you.”

I fill with joy as his face brightens again, breaking into a radiant wide smile.

His body seems to lift before he bows slightly to me.

I know what’s coming, and my heart bubbles over with joy and anticipation.

“Your wish is my command,” he says.

EPILOGUE: CHERISE

It has been two weeks since the day I agreed to move in with Richard.

He and I have managed to find an easy balance between work and play, and every single day, I’ve fallen deeper for him.

He treats me with respect and care I’ve never experienced before, and when I look into his dark eyes in those moments he exposes his soul to me, I can’t help but care for him; I want to spend the rest of my life loving him.

Though we immediately discarded the morning-after pill after our talk two weeks ago, I haven’t taken a test yet to see if I’m pregnant, though I have a strong sense that I am.

The thought fills me with joy.

“Cherise, I am taking you to the doctor, first thing,” Richard says as we sit in the Jacuzzi after dinner.

“But before we know for sure, shouldn’t we discuss this seriously? For example, don’t you want to spend more time together before bringing a kid into it? Take a few trips—all those things people have to put off once a baby comes along?”

“My dear, you have forgotten one important thing—I am a billionaire. We can take trips by sea or air whenever we want.”

“But traveling with a newborn? A toddler? I hate going through airports by myself, let alone with…”

“Sweet Cherise, I have a private jet. Yachts. We can bring our children along whenever we decide to go somewhere or not—caretakers are quite easy to come by as well. And I’m not saying your duties as a mother will all be transferred to someone else; I’m saying there’s a lot of help available to us. A baby won’t stop either of us from doing anything, nor do we have to live away from the child and leave parenting in the hands of nannies. We have options—lots of them. Children will not be a hindrance to us—they will be a testament to us.”

He grins a large grin.

“I can’t wait to see you swell with my babe, Cherise. I want to kiss your rounded tummy, feel its tiny feet kick you from within. Hell, if it sounds like too much for you, we can even arrange a surrogate…”

“That won’t be necessary.”

I notice I’ve put my hand on my belly only when I see Richard staring at it.

I move my hand quickly.

“Do you feel a change?” he asks.

I nod. “I’m pretty sure something…took. I know what your store-bought test will say, and I know what the doctor will say. We’re having a baby, Richard. I have no doubt of it.”

I’m not sure his grin could get any wider.

“Even if it hasn’t yet happened, I can assure you I will be working earnestly at it.”

The thought fills me with joy—both having Richard’s baby and having him continue to plunge my pussy with hunger, need, and purpose—but part of me is a bit sad; I don’t want to be an unwed mother.

His smile falters.

“What is it, sweet Cherise? Where have you gone now in that lovely head of yours?”

“I…” I can’t actually say that, can I? I have to wait for the man to propose!

“I don’t like it when you hesitate, Cherise. I want you to feel comfortable sharing everything with me—your concerns, your goals. Any desire, any wish of yours—please don’t hold back from me.”

I take a breath.

“Okay, here goes. This is all pretty overwhelming, as you can imagine. For me to go from where I was to where I am now—it just seems like a dream and that I’ll wake up alone and clocking in to that horrible job…”

“You won’t have to go back there, I promise you; in fact, I can guarantee it. Cherise, I…”

He stops and I witness a rare break in his confidence.

“I want to marry you; I want to make sure you are taken care of for the rest of your life.”

He slides closer to me then grabs my hands in his.

He closes his eyes briefly before speaking again, and all I can do is stare into his lovely brown eyes.

“I love you, Cherise, and I know that you’re still struggling with your feelings for me, so I will wait for a more appropriate time to officially ask you, but I just want you to know this so that you can relax. Accept my love for you.”

Tears fill my eyes and then spill over.

“I love you too, Richard,” I say softly.

I watch all sorts of emotions pass over his face before he dips it toward mine and takes my lips with his.

When he pulls back, he says, “Now what were you afraid to say?”

“That I don’t want to be an unwed mother, believe it or not.”

He laughs.

“Well, my sweet, that leaves two options: we throw the wedding before you show, or whenever you’re comfortable, somewhere along the way of your pregnancy, we do the official paperwork and get married legally—on paper. Then we can throw a wedding bash whenever you’re ready to wear a wedding dress. It’s up to you. Now is there anything else I can solve for you?”

Something that had been bothering me all week finally makes it to the forefront. Not many people will notice my absence beyond the obvious, but there’s one guy who is surely aware I have gone missing.

“I do have a favor to ask.”

“Tell me, Cherise. Anything.”

“It’s just…I feel terrible having access to all this stuff while knowing someone who has nothing. I’m not trying to give all your money away, but there is one person I’d like to do something nice for—he sort of lives down the street, on the street. I used to say hi to him every day and I haven’t seen him since living here, and I probably won’t see him again. I’d just like to do something for him so he knows I still care—doesn’t have to be something big. He’s a vet who got honorably discharged after an injury and had a hard time getting stabilized. I’d like to provide him with something.”

“Sweet Cherise, he will never go hungry again. We can even make sure he has shelter.” He grabs my hand and kisses it. “You have a soft spot for vets, it seems.”

“Like I said, my brother is one.”

His smile widens. “I suspect we’ll be working on another pet project at some point, won’t we? My sweet Cherise, you’ll have your hands full with these jobs—are you sure you’re ready for a child as a busy, working woman?”

“Well, one of the main jobs of someone in my position is to delegate, isn’t it? If it becomes too much, time to hire assistants.”

“As long as none of them are young studs.”

“Goodness, I can barely handle one of you. You’re definitely all the man I need.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says, right before his mouth descends on mine, his tongue slipping past my lips.

My heart soars on our kiss, and when he pulls away, I see desire burning in his eyes, and there is only one answer to whatever he’s about to say next.

“How about we retire to the master bedroom for a bit?”

I grin wide and bow slightly.

“Your wish is my command,” I say.

We exit the Jacuzzi and quickly make our way through the house—our house—and when we reach the top of the stairs, Richard surprises me by scooping me up in his arms and carrying me the rest of the way there.

My heart floods with love for the man I know is my future, the father of my unborn child, the master of this majestic place.

In this place, by his side, is no doubt where I belong.

END

Hope you enjoyed both novellas in my new series! :) Look out for the third story in October!

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About the Author

Rose Francis likes reading—and writing—psychological fiction, particularly stories addressing difficult topics.

She has been writing from a very early age and is thrilled to have a platform that allows her to bring her tales to the public.

The Billionaire’s Assistant is the first book in The Billionaire’s Proposition series. The second story is Serving the Billionaire, followed by The Tycoon’s Reluctant Bride (both previously published under another name).

The stories are all standalone and can be read in any order, although it is recommended to read them in their assigned order.

Check out Rose’s Amazon Author page for her full catalog!

Contact:

- 117327011775793

rosefrancis.poisonarrowpublishing.com
rose_francis@live.com

Also by Rose Francis

Alec: The Wilde Brothers

Brandon: The Wilde Brothers

Connor: The Wilde Brothers

Playing with Fire

In Hot Water

A Christmas Miracle

A Valentine’s Day Surprise

A Tangled Web

Chrysalis

Leap of Faith

Trapped