Page 16 of Serving Him

“I’m sorry?” I asked numbly. “Staying?”

Tom snorted with disbelief.

“Yeah, looks like someone up there wants you to stay,” he grunted, a scowl crossing his pinched features. “With what you’ve done, I would never, but then again, this isn’t up to me.”

I looked at him, puzzled, mind still fuzzy.

“But why?” I asked slowly. “I thought I was being let go? I just signed release papers.”

And with that Tom shrugged, unclipping the papers and tearing them up with loud rips before balling them and pitching then into the trash.

“Again, it’s not up to me, but evidently someone higher-up wants you to stay,” he said shortly. “Again, if it was up to me, you’d be gone already, sayonara girlie.”

Immediately, my heart began pumping. It had to be the dark man, the one who’d saved me. He must have known that I was going to be discharged, that I was going to be fired without a second thought, banished from the Billionaires Club. He must have known and stepped in, offering me a second chance.

I perked up, sitting up straight in the hospital bed.

“So am I going up for auction again?” I asked slowly, hopefully. “I can do it this time, I know I can, I’m ready.”

And at that, Tom threw his head back and brayed loudly.

“No one is stupid enough to ask you to go on stage again,” he said scornfully. “After your little performance last night? I don’t think so. I’m the Master of Auctions here, and trust me, the billionaires know not to cross me when it comes to that.”

I sat back, puzzled.

“But if I’m staying, then what am I going to do?” I asked, gesturing with my hands. “I mean, I’m happy to stay, but what am I going to do here?”

Tom shot me a sharp look.

“You’re going to work of course. You’re going to work for your keep and that means being the billionaires’ maid.”

I sat back, astonished, mouth open. A maid at the club? I suppose this place had to run somehow, there had to be janitors, laundresses, housekeeping, all sorts of people in the shadows, making sure things got done. And a maid made sense. It hadn’t occurred to me, but someone had to keep this place spic and span, and I knew exactly how to do the work. I wash dishes at home, I sweep floors, do laundry, take out the trash, and I’m not above doing honest work. If these were the terms of my service, then so be it. As long as I didn’t have to pay back the advance, so long as Mattie and Nana could eat, then it was fine.

So with a deep breath, I nodded.

“Yes, I’ll stay,” I said firmly. “I’m happy to be a maid at the Billionaires Club.”

And with that, a new chapter of my life began.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kane

I leaned back in the club chair at the bar. It was early and a crowd wasn’t out yet, just a couple other guys getting drinks, relaxing in the luxurious atmosphere. Because the bar at the Club is a pretty rarefied place, there are liquors behind the counter that you can’t find anywhere else in the world. That’s right, ale brewed by monks high up in the Alps? We got it. Twenty year-old Chateau Lafite? It’s right there, and not even top shelf at that. It’s not the best of our big, bold reds, we’ve got stuff that would blow your socks off by comparison.

So I sat back, swirling my bourbon. There’s nothing like some pale gold down the hatch, and I love the good stuff, two fingers straight. But despite the relaxed air, I was far from feeling it. My senses were alert as I scanned the room, looking for Rebecca.

Because yeah, I’d intervened at the last moment to ensure she could stay at the Club. That asshole Tom, our Master of Auctions, was ready to dismiss her, send the girl packing. And I guess it’s not totally crazy. I mean, she did pass out, she did go fucking unconscious right at the most important moment.

But still, I wanted her and wasn’t above exerting some influence so that she could stay. So making a call here, a call there, Rebecca’s papers were reversed and the girl’s now employed at the club as a maid. Or more accurately, a female helper, because maid is too narrow of a job description. The girls we hire are top-notch, and they do a lot more than clean and cook.

But at the moment, she was nowhere to be found, and another cocktail waitress stepped forward from the shadows, deep violet eyes beckoning, dressed in nothing but a thong and high heels, silver platter on her arm.

“Something for you sir?” she murmured dulcetly.

I leaned back, taking in the lush form. Again, good but not great. I like poundage, and per usual, this girl didn’t have enough.

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