Quarantined with the Billionaire

by Jade C. Jamison

  Hoping my expression didn’t display my lower-middle-class background, I moved aside so the driver could lead the way but, as he closed the door, he said, “To your left.”

  My heels clicked on the marble until I reached the doorway. In that room were beautiful hardwood floors and several windows, but there were various chairs and a small loveseat, all in the same color as the sectionals in the previous room. There were lots of bookshelves full of more literature than I’d probably ever read in my lifetime. One of the windows framed a variety of plants, and I wondered if I’d continue feeling awestruck with every single room I walked through.

  “The desk in the corner is where you’ll be working.” My eyes followed his direction, and I tried to hide the slight disappointment I felt because it sat against an interior wall, meaning if I wanted to look outside, I’d have to turn around. At least at the office I was able to look outside from my cubicle and, even being on the phone, I could often glance at the city life below or the skies above to keep me focused and serene.

  I thanked him just the same.

  “I can take your coat and bag if you’d like.”

  My purse? No way. It had my phone, my lip balm—my whole life of necessities outside my apartment. He’d pry that out of my cold dead hands. As I shrugged the coat off my shoulders, I said, “I’ll keep my bag.”

  “As you wish.”

  My eyes kept taking in small details of the place, and I couldn’t wait to tell Elise. Sure, she’d be jealous, but the dirty details would help her get over it.

  “You can have a seat,” the driver said. “Mr. Steel will be in shortly.”

  Normally, with people like good ol’ Jeeves there, I would have been as sarcastic as ever, making wisecracks to deflect my unease, but he seemed like a genuinely nice guy with really polite manners. I couldn’t bring myself to be an asshole with him.

  It wasn’t until he left that I walked across the room, not sure if I’d check out the books or the view first. As I approached the window and stared out at the expanse of manicured beauty, I could hear a voice coming through the closed door that the driver and I had not gone through.

  It only took a moment for me to realize it was Maddox Steel’s baritone notes coming through the doorway. Part of me felt guilty that I could hear him, but the rest of me was too curious to care. I had to strain to make out the words, but I had no problems, considering there was no sound coming from outside or anywhere else inside the house.

  “…if they need to stay home due to illness, and add how many employees we have working remotely now. At this point, we’ve got the bare minimum and our workers need to know that. You might also let them know what we’re doing as far as ensuring the staff remaining in the building are safe.”

  I caught myself almost nodding and stopped, feeling somewhat comforted that Mr. Steel was doing what he could to make sure workers were safe. There were some businesses that assured customers they were taking every precaution to keep people safe without letting us know if they were taking care of their workers, and that was every bit as important to me.

  Hmm. Mr. Steel just fell one notch on my asshole scale. Interesting.

  It sounded like he might be wrapping up his call, so I moved farther away from the door toward a bookshelf. The sun had felt warm on my skin where I’d been standing, but I didn’t want to seem like an eavesdropper.

  Sure enough, Mr. Steel walked through the door shortly after, and I turned my head, immediately regretting the slight gasp my mouth made. Instantly, I felt overdressed. Mr. Steel wore a blue-gray sweater that made his lovely azure eyes seem darker. But there was a sparkle in them, a glimmer of what looked like amusement. The cleft in his chin seemed more prominent.

  If I’d thought Maddox Steel seemed delicious in a suit, I’d had no clue.

  He wore jeans as well and casual brown shoes, looking like a model on a clothing website. Except hotter.

  Blinking my eyes and swallowing the saliva that had accumulated in my mouth, I nodded my head as he spoke. “Ms. Bernard, thank you for your willingness to help me today. I appreciate it more than you know.”

  My brain didn’t know how to process all the information coming in. Mr. Steel was supposed to be a rich jerk. An uncaring boss. An unmitigated asshole. And here he was, shattering all my misconceptions—and my smart ass side couldn’t handle it any longer. I’d been too polite all morning long. All systems were overloaded and something had to give. “I don’t know if Customer Service can hold down the fort without me.”

  Without a beat, he replied, “I’m sure they’ll do just fine.” I wasn’t sure if he was simply ignoring my sarcasm or trying to get down to business, but I found it hard to keep looking into his intense eyes. I was starting to feel like he could see my deepest, darkest thoughts. “Didn’t Jeffrey tell you we’re not worrying about the dress code at the moment?”

  “This is what I was wearing when he called, and he didn’t mention I should dress down before coming here.”

  Mr. Steel’s eyes narrowed. Ah, the sarcasm was started to work. He wasn’t sure how to take me.

  And maybe I shouldn’t risk blowing this so soon. So I smiled and tried to force a chuckle. “Kidding. No, he didn’t tell me, and I thought better safe than sorry.”

  “Well, tomorrow you can dress a little more casually.” Tomorrow? “Not that I don’t appreciate…” Pausing, he glanced at my knees.

  Really?

  “…your choice of clothing. But let’s get you situated, shall we?”

  Nodding, my tummy flipped, a queasy sensation roiling in my belly.

  But I also felt a little eager.

  “Would you like Simon to put your personal items somewhere?”

  My damned purse was turning out to be way too much of a topic for conversation. And my sarcasm weapon was failing me big time. At least now I knew the driver’s name. “No, that’s okay.”

  “Well, this is your desk,” he said, walking to the other side of the room. “I considered having you in my office but I thought we might be a distraction to each other.” What the hell did that even mean? “And you and I have a lot of work to get done.”

  “What will be my hours?”

  “They will likely be longer than your usual job in customer service. And Jeffrey said you were asking about a raise?” At his words, my cheeks grew warm. He continued talking as if he didn’t notice. “Impress me today, Ms. Bernard, and we’ll talk.”

  Standing in this palatial home, I already felt like I was earning twice what I had at the office. But my primary task now was to make sure I was as good as, if not better, than his assistant who’d fallen ill. I considered asking how much my raise would be or even inquiring how much his sick assistant received and thought better of it. Instead, I pursed my lips together to suppress a smile.

  “Let’s go to my office.”

  “Will I need my purse?”

  “I don’t know what for.”

  Feeling stupid for even asking, I placed my handbag on the swivel chair in front of the desk, trying to wipe the sheepish look off my face. Mr. Steel then led the way toward the door he’d come out of and I followed, eager to see more rooms in this gorgeous home.

  “You’ll have lots to do today. When I talked with Jeffrey, I told him I need someone who learns quickly and can shift gears at a moment’s notice. If you don’t think that’s an accurate assessment of how you work, let me know now. That’s the type of person I am and the kind I need assisting me.”

  His office was not what I’d expected. There was a lovely antique-looking desk at one end with a matching chair. The computer that sat atop it, including dual monitors, looked out of place with the remainder of the room. There was a sofa and coffee table with a glass top that looked like it had come with the desk. The carpet was off-white and the two windows against the wall opaque, like stained glass without the color. I figured the translucent quality was to stop Mr. Steel from being distracted from the view while letting him know the time of day.

 
“I think that’s probably pretty fair.” I was, at least, closer to those qualities than any of my coworkers in Customer Service. But could I keep up with Maddox Steel? I had no idea.

  “Today, I’m going to have you working on my schedule. Come with me.” We walked over to the desk, and he pulled another chair next to his and I sat down. “My entire schedule is here in Outlook, but it interfaces with this appointment program here.” Pulling up an application, he showed me the details, explaining to me how they worked together. “The appointment program keeps track of regular meetings, but my day-to-day organizer is Outlook. It’s the tool I use to manage my day, and it’s sent to my phone as well, so I’m never without it.”

  I nodded. So far, this seemed easy. “So where do I come in?”

  “Well, I’m sure you can imagine that, if I’m working at home, I’m not going to be meeting with these people in person. Your first task is to contact these individuals and either reschedule for a month or so down the line or schedule a phone or Zoom appointment. I want it to be their preference, but I don’t have time to make all these calls to negotiate the particulars myself. And, in fact, if I were to call them, I might as well just have the appointment—and I don’t have that kind of time at the moment.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good. Let’s head back to the study.” Ah…my makeshift office was in the study. When we got to my desk, Mr. Steel opened the laptop there. “You’ve been logging in remotely from home, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “This laptop works the same way. You’ll be using the phone here, and I believe your desk has all the supplies you need. But if you discover you need something else, you can dial nine on the phone to reach Simon. He can assist you. Including when you need something to eat or drink. Have you had breakfast?”

  Remembering the piece of fruit on the way out the door, I nodded. “Yes.”

  “That’s a shame. I was just getting ready to eat. Would you like to join me anyway?”

  Oh, goodness. Really, I should have started on the daunting task ahead. What I’d already seen told me Mr. Steel had anywhere from thirty to fifty appointments per week—and I gathered he wanted me to take care of everything from today through the end of the month. I had no idea how long that might take.

  Smiling, I tilted my head, my usual sarcastic replies out of reach.

  “Come on, Ms. Bernard. I think you could stand a little more meat on your bones. Especially if you’re going to keep up with me.”

  Oh, and I planned to…

  Chapter Four

  “Mr. Steel,” I said as we walked through the large room I’d first entered earlier, “you can call me Bailey. After all, you’ve called me by my first name before.”

  Glancing my way, he smiled, flashing some of the whitest teeth I’d ever seen. “Yes, I have. And that street goes both ways. If we’re going to be friendly like that, then you need to also call me by my first name.” He paused before we made it across the room to move into what was new territory for me, and he stuck out his hand to shake mine. People were beginning to say that handshakes should be off limit, but how could I resist touching this man in any way I could?

  I couldn’t.

  “Bailey, please call me Maddox.”

  A silly grin appeared on my face, giving away how I felt inside. “Nice to meet you, Maddox.” His big, strong hand wrapped around mine, warming it, giving me a sense of security I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Maybe ever.

  “The feeling’s mutual, Bailey.” While I didn’t want to let go of his hand, he released mine and extended his arm, inviting me to step in the doorway.

  We walked into a small sitting room with a cream-colored loveseat and chair and two small end tables. I marveled at the fireplace, because I hadn’t noticed before it was shared with the other room, and I could see the larger room through the hole where a fire could have been blazing. A doorway led outside onto a lovely deck. We moved through that space into another room situated at a corner of the house where two walls were almost nothing but windows. There was a small table surrounded by four chairs, and lovely plants nestled up against the windows inside. On the outside was the deck to the south, the back area of the property; to the east were evergreen shrubbery and manicured grass that was all but lush, even though it should have only been waking up from winter’s slumber.

  I was beginning to think I could die here. There was no envy in my heart, but I knew I’d never be able to afford a place even close to this on my customer service salary.

  Which strengthened my resolve to either move up in Mr. Steel’s company—or move on. If I ever had a chance to advance, now would be it.

  What struck me the most about this handsome home was how the entire place fit together, how the design scheme carried from room to room. The kitchen, though, the next room we entered, was a little different. First, it was gargantuan. Just taking in the space, I figured my entire studio apartment would fit inside it with room to spare.

  This part of the house, however, broke the pattern of matching the spaces I’d seen thus far. In fact, it seemed almost out of place—but it was beautiful. The cabinets and walls of the island were black, the countertops covered in brown marble. Ah, that was where this room tied in with the rest of the home’s décor. A small glass-top table with two chairs stood next to the island for dining. Two ovens fit in the wall next to the sink, and all the appliances matched their pewter coloring. The only windows here were over the sink and along that wall, but plenty of additional outdoor light spilled in from the room we’d left. A fireplace nestled in the interior wall next to a swinging door. There was another closed door next to it and, on the wall, a long abstract painting that looked like clouds in various colors reflecting the color scheme of the house. Below it was a low hutch full of decorative china and cookware; atop it was a vase with a spray of flowers. I wasn’t able to discern if the blooms were living or fake, so I determined they had to be real. Next to the hutch was a group of old cookbooks, displayed beautifully.

  This whole damn house was a work of art, and I felt like a woeful sore thumb.

  “Do you like eggs?”

  “They’re all right.”

  “Just all right? Well, you haven’t had an omelet Steel-style then. That might change your mind. Are you game, Bailey?”

  “Sure.”

  When he grabbed a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator, I took a peek inside. It was larger than the standard size fridge I was used to—but I was growing accustomed to that in Mr. Steel’s home. It looked clean and spacious inside as he set the carton on the counter beside the stovetop, opening a crisper drawer to take out a tomato and green pepper. Then he opened a lower cabinet to take out a bamboo cutting board before removing a chef’s knife and kitchen shears from a drawer. Walking over to the sink, he rinsed off the vegetables. “Have a seat, Bailey.”

  “Is there anything you want me to do?” The last thing I wanted to do was awkwardly watch the CEO make breakfast without me lifting a finger.

  “Good question. Do you like orange juice?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Nodding, he opened the fridge again, removing a bag of oranges and placing them on the counter. “Be right back.” He walked back into the sunny room we’d just left, shears in hand. Until I saw him snipping away, I hadn’t realized the shelf of small pots of plants were herbs, and he came back with a handful of green blades. “There’s nothing like fresh chives with eggs.”

  Placing them on the island, he opened another cabinet door, taking out a chrome-colored machine. “This is how we’ll make the juice. Just plug it in here,” he said, sticking the cord in an outlet above the counter. “Then peel the oranges and stick them in here, using this plunger to push them through. Voila. Fresh orange juice. I guarantee you’ll never be on the fence about OJ again.”

  “Awesome.” I didn’t know that I’d ever had fresh orange juice. As close as I got was making it out of a can of frozen concentrate. I began peeling an orange,
watching Mr. Steel work the knife. He quickly chopped up half of the green pepper before taking another knife out of the drawer that worked more delicately on the tomato. Meanwhile, I had barely started taking the skin off a second orange. “How many of these should I peel?”

  “Go ahead and do the whole bag.”

  My eyes widened at the prospect. That was a lot of oranges, but I had no idea how many would make a full glass. Mr. Steel, on the other hand, did.

  I had to quit calling him Mr. Steel in my head. Maddox. Maddox. Maddox!

  Continuing to peel the fruit, I kept an eye on him, watching him work. Simon entered from the swinging door I hadn’t yet been through yet, but I got a glimpse that told me it was likely a formal dining room.

  “Mr. Steel, would you like me to take over?”

  “Thanks, Simon, but you know I enjoy cooking.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m going to go to the post office then. Is there anything else you need me to fetch while I’m out and about?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Simon nodded, smiling at me, and I couldn’t quite understand why. But his expression didn’t seem malicious, so I wasn’t going to take it wrong. I really liked the guy, so I flashed a grin back before tackling orange number three as he walked out of the room.

  Once again, I was alone with the magnetic CEO—and I wanted to get to know him. “Do you cook very often?”

  “I find it soothing, but I don’t do it as often as I’d like. There aren’t enough hours in the day. Fortunately, Simon is a great cook and takes good care of me when I’m home. I have to eat out a lot. I have a lot of business meetings and get togethers centered around food.”

  I had so many questions, but I’d be nosy if I asked too much, so I focused on peeling, trying to keep my curiosity at bay.

  “What about you, Bailey? Do you like to cook?”