Maid For The Tycoon: A BWWM Billionaire Romance

MAID

FOR THE TYCOON

LACEY LEGEND

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2015 Lacey Legend

Written by Lacey Legend

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BOOK DESCRIPTION

Read On To Find Out!

Table Of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter One

Jenna swung open the door of the fifties-style diner. Her hazel eyes scanned  the buzzing activity. It was full of hungry breakfast customers  wolfing down pancakes, bacon and scrambled eggs. Spotting Kelly, Jenna tentatively waved her hand and hoped the expression on her face conveyed to her friend the desire for a quick chat. Kelly tapped the watch on her wrist and held up two fingers to Jenna, signaling she could have a break in two minutes.

Jenna waited by the breakfast counter and slipped onto the first red stool available. Her eyes followed Kelly around as she passed out overloaded plates to grumpy customers and refilled empty coffee mugs. Swinging the coffee jug over the counter for one of her co-workers to collect, Kelly rested her elbows on the cool steel of the bench and dropped her head back, taking a huge breath and closing her eyes as she exhaled.

“Tough morning,” observed Jenna.

Kelly knew the question was rhetorical.

“They always are; doesn’t matter which day of the week. Breakfast shifts are the pits.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You did,” corrected Kelly. “Since you’ve scored this exclusive cleaning job, your life has got a hell of a lot easier.”

“You sound peeved.”

“I am a  bit,” confessed Kelly.

The soles of Kelly’s feet hurt. She knew however, no matter how much perfume and deodorant she doused herself in, the beads of sweat would continue running down her face for the duration of the shift. When she got home, she would reek of fried food and hard labor.

Jenna’s heart-shaped face dropped and studied the floor. She wasn’t too sure how to respond to her best friend’s brutal honesty. She twirled a honey gold strand from her short frizzy hair between her fingers.

Kelly felt guilty begrudging her friend’s good fortune.

“Don’t mind me,” said Kelly breezily. “I had a bit of a late night partying. It’s my fault I’m feeling rough today. Nobody forced me to drink and I knew I had the opening shift. I could’ve called it an early night at a reasonable time if I’d had a responsible bone in my body.”

“Still it’s horrible feeling like that when you’ve got no support from the team.”

The girls looked at the team of women who were considerably older than the two college girls, significantly overweight and wearing forced friendly expressions.

“Okay, I’m fuming because I’ve lost my work buddy. The only thing I resent is my laziness in not following your lead and using my initiative to get a decent job to get me out of this cesspool,” confided Kelly. “What are you doing here anyway? You should be making the most of the weather,” her voice lightened as the momentary resentment passed.

“No can do. I have a job to do myself today. Thought I’d grab a milkshake and have a quick chat  before I go.”

“What’s he like?” asked Kelly.

“The billionaire?”

Kelly’s blue eyes widened at the prospect of some seriously juicy gossip. “He’s a billionaire?”

Jenna nodded, looking like  the cat that got the cream.

“Is he hot?”

“He’s buff and beautiful.” giggled Jenna.

“Is he old?”

“Not like a granddad. He’s,” Jenna paused, “ mature.”

“A father-figure,” teased Kelly.

Jenna pulled a face and wrinkled her nose. Kelly was fully aware Jenna had been raised by a single mother. The thought of her friends assuming she was looking for a father-figure to love was too ridiculously Psych 101 for words.

“No! He’s in his late twenties or early thirties. From what I’ve seen of him on the phone, he’s super charming, super intelligent, super witty and just plain....”

“Super.”

“I sound silly, don’t I?” asked Jenna, relieved her coffee colored skin hid her blushes.

“Super silly and super in love,va” cooed Kelly.

“Oh shut up. I’ve been working there for under a month.”

“And he’s a billionaire? You must be on a bomb. No wonder you aren’t struggling for a wage.”

“I am expected to work,” Jenna defended exasperatedly. “And I’m not paid cash in hand by the boss. I’m employed by an agency, don’t forget. They take a huge percentage of what he’s actually charged. I’m left with little more than you are at the end of the week.”

“If it’s a boutique company that provides a maid or cleaning service to billionaires and that type of social class, I refuse to believe you’re on minimum wage and reliant on tips to cover your weekly expenses.”

“I came here for a girly chit chat, not to have my accounts scrutinized by someone who didn’t even attain the grades to complete a business major.”

Kelly laughed in good humor at the jibe. She knew she wasn’t the brains of New York and Jenna was justified in delivering the cutting barb.

“Forgive me. I’ve put two and two together and got four billion.”

Jenna couldn’t help but guffaw at the ridiculous discussion. “Well I haven’t got four billion,” assured Jenna.

“You’re just working for someone that has.”

“Yes, I am,” sighed Jenna.

“You actually do like him, don’t you?”

Kelly could see from her friend’s face the impromptu visit wasn’t to boast about her hunky new client. She was smitten by the billionaire and looking for relationship advice.

“What’s the plan?” probed Kelly.

“There is no plan. He’s out of my league. He doesn’t even notice me; at least I’m doing my job well.”

“Because he tips big?”

“He doesn’t tip at all. That would be considered gauche by these kinds of people. I mean the fact that I’m invisible, is supposed to be a good thing in this position. When I was interviewed to go on the books of Supreme Cleaning Services, Ms. Princely informed me to embrace the concept of being seen and not heard. I even had to sign an agreement whereby I’m not allowed to disclose or discuss anything I’ve seen or overheard in the premises that I work on.” explained Jenna.

“It sounds very cloak and dagger.”

“It’s not interesting. I think it’s more to do with respecting the privacy of the high profile clients. If there’s questionable antics or undercover operations taking place, I haven’t been exposed to them.”

Jenna traced her finger in some spilt salt. Subconsciously she drew a heart.

“Kelly. You said two minutes. It’s been closer to ten. Get your fanny back behind the counter and help to pick up the slack. Whatever dream boat you two girls are discussing can wait,” yelled the short order cook.

“Can it wait?” inquired Kelly of  her seemingly confused friend.

“Sure it can. Of course, it was silly of me to corner you in a busy period.” assured Jenna.

“What about your milkshake?”

“That’ll have to wait as well. I need to start work soon and I can’t afford to be late.”

“Phone me later?” called Kelly. “I want the full details.”

“I promise I will,” retorted Jenna, as she squeezed through the crowd onto the street to make her way toward the Tribeca area of lower Manhattan.

*

Jenna preferred cleaning Spencer Lawson’s penthouse apartment on a Saturday. It meant she never had to see him and thus couldn’t become flustered and distracted in his presence.  Given it was her duty to give the residence a full cleanup she really couldn’t afford to spend half her time with one eye on his gorgeous looks and her mind creating a fantasy where the British billionaire would fall madly in love with her. Without Spencer in close proximity, she could get down and dirty to make the apartment spectacularly clean to the high standards her agency promised.

On weekdays before classes, Jenna was merely expected to ensure the bedroom was tidy, the bed made up, the kitchens, and bathrooms were immaculately cleaned and that she ran a vacuum cleaner around. Saturdays she had to clean every room from top to bottom and do the laundry.

Walking into the bathroom to grab the laundry basket, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror.

“No wonder Spencer barely acknowledges my existence,” she thought as she examined her reflection.

The crisp white polo shirt with the agency emblem on the breast pocket, coupled with blue jeans and a blue apron were  not particularly flattering to the figure.

“Practical – yes! Seductive – No!” thought Jenna. “Maybe the idea of these uniforms is to prevent us teasing the carnal urges of male clients. Although the idea of Spencer being so overcome by lust he takes me roughly in the kitchen isn’t the worst scenario I can imagine. I’d happily trade this uniform in for a tacky French maid’s outfit if it meant luring Spencer in the bedroom.”

Jenna realized even with Spencer absent from the apartment, she was still fixated on him and wondered how she might catch his attention. Shaking her head, as if to rid the billionaire from her mind, Jenna lifted the dirty clothes basket. She made her way to the laundry, hidden subtly behind sleek timber doors. As the majority of Spencer’s suits were dry clean only, she was fortunate, as there wasn’t an abundance of washing to do. Separating the colors from the whites, she began to load the washing machine.

Pausing before starting the cycle, she knew there was another room she needed to check for dirty laundry before she pressed the start button. With heavy feet, Jenna made her way to Spencer’s bedroom. Her stomach felt knotted as she stepped in. She realized her eyes were closed.

Spencer Lawson’s bedroom really was the most depressing scene, in Jenna’s opinion. There was a reason her services were required six mornings a week. Spencer pretty much had a different partner every night; hence, fresh sheets were required daily. As one glamorous woman left the revolving door of the main reception of Spencer’s high-rise building, a new one would be making her way in with an overnight bag to entertain the billionaire for an evening. Jenna wondered if the women were aware they had a twelve-hour expiration  date in Spencer’s life. Possibly they did.

Opening her eyes, she leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom. Weirdly, she wasn’t jealous of the stream of wealthy, model-esque looking women he entertained. Sure, they might get to have sex with the dashing and debonair bachelor, but that was all. It appeared they meant very little to him emotionally.

“If I got Spencer, it wouldn’t be for just a night,” decided Jenna. “It’d be for life. What does it say about a woman who thinks of herself as nothing more than a one-night fling? No wonder he discards them like tissues.”

She stripped the bed, hoping she wouldn’t come across any women’s lingerie caught up in the sheets that were twisted and disheveled from some seedy sex session. A smile spread across her face as the sheets appeared to have nothing more in them than a handkerchief embroidered with Spencer’s initials.

As she started walking out of the room to take the sheets to the laundry, she heard something break underfoot of her practical black sneaker. Staring down at the floor, Jenna lifted her foot to see lipstick smeared on the bottom of her shoe and on the polished wooden floors.

Angrily she snatched up the plastic pieces of the lipstick tube and flung them in the nearby waste basket in the bedroom.

He had been with yet another woman last night.

“At least the floor’s polished. I wouldn’t want to be on my hands and knees attempting to get that shade of violent red lipstick out of carpet.”

Returning to the laundry, she set the machine in motion and retrieved her cleaning materials.

Debating on whether to start with the bathroom or kitchen, Jenna’s least two favorite jobs, she opted for the en-suite bathroom. She plugged in the headphones of her iPod and set to work. Busying herself to the beats of her favorite playlist, Jenna was finally able to focus on the task on hand.

A hand on her waist made her yelp in shock and surprise. Spinning around and yanking the headphones from her ears, she was greeted by the vision of Spencer Lawson.

“Sorry to frighten you.” he apologized in a warm baritone.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he asked directly.

The dark brown of his eyes was so intense Jenna was barely able to mutter a coherent sentence. He was right. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Why did she feel the need to apologize? Spencer was staring at her, waiting for an answer. Jenna had been hoping the question was rhetorical.

“The headphones,” she finally blurted out.

Spencer raised a quizzical eyebrow. Jenna’s mind raced in a bid to justify her statement.

“It’s only, I’m not sure I’m actually supposed to listen to music while I’m at work. If I hadn’t had my headphones in I’d have heard you enter and made myself scarce.”

“I certainly don’t remember reading anything in the fine print of my contract with Supreme Cleaning Services stating that employees are forbidden from listening to music on personal devices,” he said drily.

“No? Looks like I’m not on  the firing line with Ms. Princely, then.”

“Even if you were, I doubt it’s a hanging offense.”

“I suppose not.”

They stood looking at one another in silence.
My first real conversation with Spencer Lawson and I come across as a ditzy moron,
thought Jenna.