The Billionaire Boss Collection

by Penny Ward

  Once there, he seats me at a table, "I'll fetch us a few nibbles and some drinks. Don't move."

  Grateful to be off my feet, I nod in reply and observe how his cute butt cheeks move in his tux pants.

  Left alone in this amazing place, I don’t know what to do.

  I don’t know how to sit, or behave, or even look.

  So, I just stare at the table in front of me and listen to the action around me.

  At the opposite table, there are five perfect women all in their early twenties. Too perfect. Too amazing. They could all be models walking down the catwalks of a Victoria Secret show.

  All of the women look like they have never worked a day in their life… and never plan to either.

  While staring at their perfection, one of them looks my way and we make eye contact.

  Damn.

  Quickly, I look back down at the table.

  Please don’t talk about me.

  Please…

  "Who the hell is she?" snarls one of them, clearly talking about me.

  "Don't know, but she's only my stand-in," a stunning brunette says. "I told him to go screw himself yesterday; I won't be second best for anyone."

  Are the perfect people talking about me? I'm a stand-in?

  She turned him down?

  Does she mean my Caleb?

  "You turned Caleb Hawksley down? Are you insane?"

  Damn.

  I am a stand-in. Just a fill-in for Caleb.

  Just another girl to fill his time.

  Just his entertainment.

  Damn.

  Reality hits me hard…

  Chapter 12

  "Some guys need taking down a peg or two. He'll be back; he loves this sweet ass," The perfect women all laugh hysterically. "My replacement over there is probably a hooker wearing Gucci. He probably just picked up her up off the street, Pretty Woman style."

  "How do you know it's a Gucci…?" asks the blonde-haired woman.

  "The same dress is hanging in my closet; it's this season, darling. Love those shoes though. Of course, they're all brand new. Probably the most expensive clothes she has ever worn. The poor whore even left the labels on."

  They laugh behind their hands now, noticing me looking and listening to them.

  Did Caleb so love this dress on his real date, he had to dress me like her?

  My throat swells as I stare at Caleb's back, who is oblivious to my humiliation while laughing with a man at the bar. This is too much.

  I'm a joke.

  Caleb doesn't really want me here.

  His date let him down and I'm an easy stand-in. I’m just here so he doesn’t look lonely. I am a stand-in. A piece of meat.

  No… what about what we did earlier?

  It meant something to him too, didn't it?

  Did I make something huge out of nothing?

  Another blonde arrives, takes a seat next to Caleb's ex, and gushes, "Demi, I overheard Caleb telling Paul who he's here with. You will never guess…"

  "Then don't make me," Demi insists.

  The bitch has attitude and I know how Caleb loves attitude.

  He loves mine.

  "Quit stalling, who is she?" she snaps.

  "She's his twenty-one year old housekeeper. Grew up together, by the sounds of it. Can you believe him? Bless, he dressed her up and brought her to an event like this. This is a big deal for someone like her."

  They all stare at me for a minute or so, examining the poor girl, before they turn away to continue talking about me as if I can't hear or am somehow impervious to what they're saying.

  "Aw, he's such a love, Demi," says the first blonde-haired woman. "Better hope you haven't lost him for good this time."

  "Lose him to whom? Ha, Cinderella over there?"

  Cinderella?!

  Is that what I am?

  They stare, knowing I'm listening, and their collective and cumulative laughter soon sounds like a roar.

  I look at Caleb and he is too busy laughing at the bar. Why can’t he be here and defend me?

  Oh, who am I kidding? He won’t defend me. I’m just a fill-in. Just another girl.

  It’s too much. I can’t stand this any longer.

  I have to get out of here.

  Two fistfuls of dress to raise the hem of my dress, I march away as fast as I can, wearing ridiculous five-inch heels.

  All with them squealing at my back and makeup running down my cheeks.

  The longest minute later, I re-enter the lion's den outside and the cameras flash in my face.

  "Leave me alone!" I scream, running to my right through the crowd of onlookers, down several blocks to Caleb's penthouse.

  On the way, I throw the Jimmy Choo's over a hedge.

  My fairy-tale was incredible while it lasted, but it didn't last long enough…

  Chapter 13

  Unwilling to be home when Caleb returns with a triumphant Demi on his arm, I decide to pack a bag and stay over at Betty's for the night.

  She's a close friend, and I trust her to take me in, listen to me gripe, and not sell the story to the highest bidder.

  When you work for a billionaire, friends you can trust are paramount.

  I chose mine wisely.

  After the quick trip to Betty's, I tell her all about what happened between us.

  About how Caleb came home annoyed yesterday, then determined to make love to me the following evening.

  How I thought he'd finally seen me and liked what he saw.

  I thought he wanted to take me to the ball because he wanted to thank me, and maybe even because he enjoyed my company. How wrong I was.

  I tell her how I discovered the truth because of the humiliating conversation at my expense. I can’t help the tears running down my tears.

  Caleb only chose me because he had no time to find another stand-in. I was just a token girl. Another one. I thought I was special but I wasn’t even close to being special.

  Betty seethes, pacing the room. "Bastard! Bitches!"

  "Hey, come sit with me. You're making me motion-sick."

  She slumps next to me, but fidgets on her couch, scowling. "Why would Demi dump him when from what you've said, she clearly still wants him?"

  "Who cares about Demi? I don't know how rich folks’ minds work."

  "They all play games with people like us—we're dispensable."

  Memories flash through my mind of the incredible sex, of the intimacy I thought we shared, of having to dress up in clothes I wasn't comfortable in and sip bubbly drinks I didn't like—for what?

  The storm of tears I'd been suppressing burst through.

  "I'm just a figure of fun to the lot of them, aren't I?"

  "Hey, I don't believe for a minute Caleb intended to hurt you, sweetie. You guys have been close for too long. I bet there's been some kind of mistake. You'll go back to work tomorrow and he'll tell you as much. As for those bitches, don't waste your time thinking about their kind of nothing. They think they’re rich, but they have nothing of value. Nothing."

  I try to smile, "You're a good friend, Betty, but I think we both know if it came down to a choice between the beautiful Demi and well… me, he's going to choose her. It is what it is. Any man would choose that perfect body over mine. I can’t compete with that. It was like she walked straight out of a magazine."

  “She might look good but she has nothing on your personality. Any girl that thinks they are better than someone else is not worth the time.”

  “Caleb obviously sees something in her.”

  “Men can be blinded by their cocks. They think with their hard-ons sometimes. He’ll realize the truth. They always do. No man would put up with that all time. Why would they?”

  “Because she gives good blow-jobs?” I try to laugh.

  “Ha!” Betty laughs. “I bet she does. But that must be all.”

  I sigh deeply, “I am so stupid. How did I even think that it was real? Of course it wasn’t. I am so dumb. I should have known better, Betty. This is all
my own fault. I am so stupid for believing in that stupid fantasy.”

  “You are not dumb or stupid, and this is not your fault. This is his fault. He might not have meant anything bad by it, but he should have known better. This has nothing to do with you. You are a beautiful, charming, happy person with an amazing personality. If someone can’t accept that, it is their loss.”

  “Thanks Betty. You are the best,” I smile through my teary face as she rubs my back.

  “You’re the best. You always have been. You are too nice sometimes, Em. You know what I would have done.”

  “I know exactly what you would have done, Betty,” I smile.

  “I would have walked over there, grabbed them by their perfect locks of hair, and slammed their heads into the table. And then I would say something witty like; ‘You want to play ball. Let’s play ball, bitch…’ Which is a reference to the ‘Gala Ball’ in case you don’t get it.”

  “You wouldn’t have even talked to them first?” I laugh loudly.

  “Nope. No way. No time for talking. If someone wants to treat me like that, I’ll smash their heads into the table. They would think twice about doing it again, wouldn’t they?”

  I laugh, “Yes they would!”

  “But Em…”

  “Yes?”

  “Listen… maybe it’s time to move on.”

  “Move on?”

  Betty shrugs, “You clearly have had a crush on this man for so long. All through high school, he was all you could about. Maybe… it’s time to let that go? Maybe it’s time to move on?”

  She’s right.

  I know she’s right.

  But I don’t know if I want to.

  Betty hugs me, and lets me cry in her arms for some time before I need to blow my nose.

  "Time for bed," I say. "I’ve kept you up late enough. Besides, I'd like to start work early tomorrow, preferably while he's either still out of the house, or at least still asleep behind a closed door. I don't think I can bear to see his face."

  “You’re still going to work tomorrow?”

  “It’s my job.”

  "That’s fine for now, I guess," Betty ruffles my hair. "But you can't avoid him forever though, remember. You shouldn't have to."

  I don't want to avoid him.

  I want him to let me love him. I have adored him for so long.

  I thought we wanted the same thing for a few glorious hours.

  I thought all my dreams had come true.

  How wrong can a person get?

  "Yeah, I know. This is what I get for screwing my boss. I'm such a cliché."

  “Maybe you should call in sick?”

  “No. That would just make it worse. I’ll go in and just pretend nothing happened.”

  “Will that work?”

  “Let’s hope so…”

  Chapter 14

  The next day at around four-thirty in the morning, I let myself in Caleb's penthouse, and I'm hit by a wall of silence.

  His cars are all present in the garage and his tux has been cast off on the way up to his room.

  Caleb's scent wafts up my nose as I collect each item, and I need to concentrate to keep a tight hold on my emotions.

  Creeping up the stairs makes me feel odd, like I don't belong.

  When I'm outside his bedroom door, I press my ear against the hard wood and listen.

  Not a sound.

  The urge to shout expletives, to demand an apology or at the very least, an explanation, is huge. I should wake him, and slap him across the face.

  Instead, I pick up his boxer shorts and say nothing before heading back down the stairs to begin my chores.

  I clean and wash every surface, and do two loads of washing, and organize the grocery delivery.

  Like a good, little housekeeper.

  Like a good, Little Em.

  At six thirty, I'm ready for a break before I vacuum the carpeted areas of the house.

  While I drink coffee and eat granola, I wonder who is with him between those same sheets he and I made love on last night.

  It hurts me to even think about it.

  Deep in my stomach, it hurts me.

  It's hard to believe such pleasure happened less than twenty-four hours ago.

  Was I so awful?

  Was the same experience so different to the both of us?

  How can that even be possible?

  It was one of the most emotional moments of my life… and it meant nothing to him.

  Nothing.

  I feel the tears well up in my eyes, and I try to shake the thoughts away.

  A creak on the fourth step in the hall tells me someone is walking down the stairs.

  I open the newspaper and pretend to be engrossed in some story about the next big movie release.

  "Ah, so you came back then," comes the booming voice of an angry Caleb.

  He's angry… at me?

  I spin around, astounded by his rudeness. "I work here, where else should I be?"

  "You stayed out all night, and last time I saw you, you were dressed pretty hot. Thought you got lucky and spent the night somewhere… with some other guy you must have met while I went off to fetch drinks?"

  Is he for real?

  "You're calling me a slut now? I'm not your usual type, remember?" I throw the granola into the trash and the empty bowl into the dishwasher along with my spoon and coffee cup. "Do you need me to make you… and your guest… breakfast or can I get on with the vacuuming?"

  "Do what you like. Seems to be your new thing for you."

  My rage dissipates at the sight of his.

  I expected groveling, not this.

  "My thing? I think I'd better get my chores done and go. I started early, so I won't be too much longer if I can get in your room any time soon?"

  Caleb grinds his jaw and scowls, "I'm not stopping you."

  I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm, "Wait. Why did you leave last night? You owe me an explanation at the very least."

  "Let's just say I know I was a stand-in."

  "How could you…"

  “Some helpful girls let me know.”

  The lights switch on and illuminate the obvious. "Uh, Demi?" With the bright flush of his cheeks, I know I'm right. "It wasn't like… I so wanted you there."

  Already humiliated enough for one day, I refuse to allow this to become a pity parade in my honor, so I appease him.

  "It's fine. I have a lot to do, you keep me busy. Will there be anything else?"

  He holds my gaze for a long moment, "Oh?"

  He frowns, tilts his head confused, and let's go of my arm. "I wish you'd stayed, that's all."

  "It isn't my world, sorry. I should never have agreed to go. It was my mistake."

  He continues to level his questioning gaze at me until I feel it chiseling away at my resolve not to cry.

  "But I wanted you there."

  "We all want things we can't have, Caleb. Guess I'm more used to it than you."

  I tug my arm from his grip and march off, grabbing the vacuum cleaner on my way so I can work myself up to a sweat and finish as quickly as possible.

  When I've done everything but his room, reluctant to wait for someone to leave, I storm in expecting to confront a slumbering beauty named Demi…

  But I find the room in darkness and empty.

  At least I'm saved some humiliation.

  Cleaning his room feels wrong today, as though I'm intruding on something private.

  Perhaps because it reminds me of the incredible satisfaction of yesterday.

  Not many can say the man they fantasized about since the first flush of adolescence was also the man who gave them the most incredible experience of their life.

  No, I doubt this memory will fade even if I live for another hundred years.

  Of course, we're from such different worlds we couldn't have possibly been more.

  Not really.

  We are different.

  So different.

  It was stupid of me to think
we could have been anything else. Of course, we couldn’t have been a couple. How would that even work?

  Would I still be his maid while he took me out to dinner?

  How stupid of me.

  Stupid.

  What an idiot.

  Seems some fantasies are destined to be just that.

  Anything else cannot work.

  Chapter 15

  A few days later, I'm due to see my folks and I’m dreading it.

  They were so proud of me taking on such a big job so young, and for continuing the family line of domestic service to the Hawksley's.

  I certainly can't tell them what's been going on lately, and they're certain to ask.

  No, I won't go to our usual weekly meal together.

  I'll say Caleb needs me.

  They won’t be able to question me.

  While in deep thought about this at work, Caleb stops me on his way down the stairs, all dressed up and a million places to go.

  "Where have you been staying nights, Emma?" his lips are stretched over white teeth and his spine erect. "You're a live-in housekeeper, yes? That's what you're paid for."

  He's annoyed again and it's wearing thin. "I don't think the live-in arrangement suits me right now. I'll look at moving back in the future."

  His eyebrows shoot for the sky, "Doesn't suit you? What about me? Should I trim your wages according to how much less work you do for me? Would that suit you? What if I need you to do something while you're…wherever it is you've been going at night?"

  I sigh, this is one of many examples of his attitude towards me since the damn ball.

  We always got on so well, but now it's like we're quarrelling strangers forced together.

  He seems to dislike me more each day, and I'm beginning to get depressed in this environment and by the whole horrible experience.

  "Sorry if I'm not on-call twenty-four-seven anymore. Trim my wage if you think it's unfair of me to have a life. Will there be anything else, sir?”

  He gasps, "Stop being so damned reasonable. Where's your attitude? This isn't you."

  No, it isn't me—none of this is.

  I'm just trying not to be dragged into more arguments.

  "Sorry, sir," I say, hating how hurt he seems.