“This is Jo,” I say absentmindedly into the speaker.
A bubbly voice chortles into my ear.
“Jolene, we’ve got great news!” It’s one of my supervisors at Kit Kat Cleaners.
“Oh hey, May. What’s up?” I ask.
My supervisor giggles hysterically.
“Mr. Saint is so impressed with you!”
“Really?” I ask, dumbfounded. “But I just started today. In fact, I haven’t really started yet.”
May merely giggles again.
“That’s okay! Mr. Saint says he loves your sparkling personality. Plus, he says you’ll be a live-in, so he’ll be quadrupling your rate and paying bonuses too.”
I blink. Obviously, Channing Saint has more money than God.
“Wow. That’s really great news.”
“Isn’t it?” she squeals. “He’s so generous and I’m sure it’ll be easy to take care of his apartment. Anyways, I just wanted to tell you to keep up the good work. Quality employees like you give Kit Kat an excellent reputation and if Mr. Saint is happy, then he’ll refer more of his billionaire friends! Go go go Kit Kat!”
“Go go go!” I repeat softly.
But May has hung up before I can even say goodbye. Ruefully, I set my phone down. Clearly, Kit Kat still thinks I’m still working as a maid and they have no idea of the nefarious deal I’ve just agreed to. Then again, is it that nefarious if I actually want it? A hot blush colors my cheeks and inside, I start to feel loose and warm. Channing Saint may be a god among men, but still, I’m nothing more than the hired help, even if my job description just took a turn for the unexpected.
After about three hours, I return to Channing’s apartment. I stop on the sidewalk in front of his building and look up. The building’s spires extend into the sky, and it actually has a distinctive slate grey roof. How did I miss that earlier? I even had that déjà vu feeling telling me that I’ve been here before.
Nonetheless, what happened last night was last night, and now, I’m being paid for a different kind of service. I heave my bag higher on my shoulder and grunt at the weight. I only have a few things, including toiletries, several sets of lingerie, and my laptop. There was no point in bringing anything else, seeing that I won’t need many clothes.
Putting a smile on my face, I walk into the apartment building and greet the concierge.
“Mr. Channing, please.”
The man at the front desk nods his head slightly.
“Go right up.”
Taking a deep breath, I head to the private elevator and get into the gilded box. Then, I’m whisked to the top floor and when I step off, I make my way to the penthouse. As soon as I press the bell, Channing opens the door, his huge form blocking out the light from behind.
“Welcome back,” he says. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”
I stroll towards the couch, my bag slung over one shoulder. I expect us to have some chitchat, or maybe even some tea, but Channing stops me before I can sit.
“Sweetheart, you’re on the clock already, and remember rule one. Clothes off,” he says. “Now. I want to see those curves in lingerie.”
Oh my god, the time has come. Heat’s emanating from my cheeks and I feel like every cell is alive as he scans me with those deep blue eyes. But you know what? I’m a honorable woman, and I always keep my part of the bargain.
I toss my hair over my shoulder and slowly unzip my pants. I wiggle my hips a bit to get the jeans over them and let the denim drop to the floor. Channing’s watching me unmoving, but I can tell that he’s following my tiniest movement. Feeling emboldened, I step out of my jeans daintily and then grab the hem of my t-shirt before lifting the soft cotton over my head and letting it drop to the floor, leaving me in nothing but a wispy bra and panties.
The alpha male’s blue eyes gleam and I smile to myself. After all, as a plus-size model, I’ve done a few lingerie campaigns and this was one of the sets that I brought home with me after a shoot. It’s black lace and the demi-cups just barely contain my girls. The panties are very sheer, revealing the outline of my pussy lips, and the string in back disappears between my white cheeks.
“Do you like it?” I coo, twirling in front of the billionaire. The inside of his apartment is pleasantly warm, and under his gaze, I feel saucy and very desirable.
“Beautiful,” he rasps. “Absolutely gorgeous. But before we get started on the feast, are you hungry, sweetheart? Have you had breakfast? Lunch?”
I nod sheepishly. “I could use something to eat.”
He shoots me a wicked look.
“Are you nervous?”
I laugh. “A bit.”
“Don’t be. You’re safe here.” He takes my hand and I let him gaze up and down my curves for a moment as he breathes hard. There’s a stiffness against his leg that can only be one thing. But then, he turns and pulls me with him into a huge chef’s kitchen. It’s gorgeous with silver stainless steel appliances and custom cabinets made of mahogany, but he merely sits me at the breakfast bar before reaching into the fridge.