Maid for the Billionaire

by Emma St Clair

  As she recounted happy early days followed by a fire that killed her parents and older sister, leading to a revolving door of foster care, Hamilton only felt himself growing more invested. His arm tightened around her shoulders and his hand found its way in her hair, as though he could soothe away the ache.

  As she spoke of having to quit her business degree at Stanford because of mounting costs, Hamilton already felt himself resolving to fix it somehow. Though he still didn’t know her completely, he suspected that she would fight him on that if he offered it now.

  “That’s pretty much it. And now I’m here, which is kind of a paradise. There are worse jobs, that’s for sure.”

  Hamilton pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’s amazing h-how much light you possess, after going through so … much.”

  “Thank you. It doesn’t always feel that way. I figure that if I focus on all the things that have gone wrong, I might miss the things that have gone right.” Jane smiled up at him. “How about your story?”

  Hamilton hesitated for a few moments. He didn’t often share his own sad story. The teasing: poor little rich boy with a stutter. The wreck that compromised his vision. Then he lost his father to a heart attack. After which, Hamilton had to take the reins in a cutthroat corporate world that favored alpha males, not twenty-something men who stuttered. If Hamilton hadn’t had such good instincts, he wouldn’t have been able to keep the company.

  Just when he felt like he was finding his feet, his mother was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. It progressed faster than he would have thought possible. Thankfully, he’d been able to keep it quiet and out of the news as he found her a high-end facility with excellent care and discretion. That moment had been when he first started to realize that his life was passing him by with him actually living it.

  Now, here he was, still single at thirty-six, desperate enough to turn to a matchmaking resort to meet someone. Hopefully, he would have enough years left to enjoy it. With his parents’ medical history, his life had started to feel like a giant countdown timer.

  For whatever reason, Jane felt safe. Like maybe she could handle all of that at once since she walked a parallel path filled with loneliness. Taking a breath and what felt like a huge leap of faith, Hamilton shared what few people knew. Not even Michelle knew about his mother.

  Jane found his hand and kept their fingers laced together the whole time Hamilton spoke. The gesture was everything.

  “Aren’t we a pair?” she asked, when Hamilton had finally stammered and haltingly made his way through.

  “Yes. Together, we are.”

  Could she tell how much he meant that statement? Was it as apparent in his serious gaze as he wanted it to be?

  “Maybe we should end on some happy memories,” Jane suggested. “Just to round things out.”

  Time ceased to exist as their conversation continued, laughing and sharing memories and tidbits about their lives. The moon dipped, and the tide went out.

  Hamilton had never felt so at ease around a person in his life. So, when Jane finally yawned and stood, stretching, disappointment rode him hard. When he stood, she threw her arms around him in a hug that he felt all the way to the marrow of his bones.

  She pulled back, studying his face, a furrow appearing between her brows. Hamilton lifted his finger and traced it, wishing he could smooth away her worries. Instead, the concern in her eyes seemed to deepen.

  “What is it, Jane?”

  “I didn’t know you yesterday.” She paused, her eyes staring out at a point past his shoulder, then moving back to his. “I don’t go around spilling all my secrets and kissing men I’ve just met. And I hope you don’t make a habit of this.”

  “Never.”

  Jane sighed, and this time, it wasn’t a sigh of contentment. It felt heavy. Her shoulders sagged, and her chin dropped to her chest. With one finger on her chin, Hamilton tilted her face back up, then cupped her cheek again, tracing her cheek with his thumb.

  When she began chewing her lip, Hamilton’s gaze landed there. He resisted the draw to kiss her lips again. He needed her to trust him with her words and suspected she might too-happily let a kiss distract her from whatever it was she didn’t seem to want to say.

  “Tell me. Jane, y-you can trust me. Even if we just … met.”

  Letting go of his shirt with one hand, she covered his hand with hers, leaning into his palm. Her eyes fluttered closed.

  “I don’t believe in love at first sight. I’m not even sure I believe in soulmates or the one. And yet, with you … this feels like something more. Something bigger than attraction, stronger than simple affection. I hesitate to try and pin it down with words.”

  Yes. Yes. Yes. Each of her statements resonated with Hamilton. They felt true, as true as everything else that seemed to hang in the air between them and pass between them whenever they touched. He wanted to agree, to tell her that he found himself casting aside what he believed and thought he wanted for whatever this was between them.

  Jane took a big step back. Hamilton’s hands fell to his sides, immediately aching for the warmth of her skin and the feel of her on his fingertips and palms.

  “Jane?”

  She clasped her hands together and placed them over her heart. “Hamilton, you’re here to meet a wife. You chose to come here, to pick from these kinds of women.” She swallowed, so hard that he could visibly see the effort it took. “I’m not like them. In so many ways. I’m uncultured. I grew up in foster care. Poor. I’m still poor. I don’t want you to think that I’m interested in you for what you have to offer.”

  “The thought hasn’t crossed his mind.”

  But maybe it should have. Certainly, Hamilton would have thought about it under normal circumstances. But Jane seemed to have cast a kind of spell on him, one that made him believe her, believe in her.

  “But the next few days, you’ll be dating these women. Dining with them. Going on excursions. Horseback riding. Planned walks on the beach. This?”

  Jane spread her arms wide, gesturing to the empty beach. Hamilton heard the ocean again, realizing that its roar and hiss had been completely lost to him as he had lost himself in Jane.

  “This is a stolen moment. I could lose my job. And I need it. Badly. We can’t do this again while you’re here. Maybe after …”

  “But—”

  “Please, let me finish. This is so hard to say.” Jane closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, her eyes were firm. “I can’t tell you how difficult it was to watch you eat across the table from that woman tonight. I wanted to tackle her and fight her for you. And that was before this walk. Before that kiss.”

  Again, Hamilton wanted to interrupt her. To make promises and vows and commitments. To stop whatever he knew was coming. But he also wanted to respect her, to show Jane that he valued her voice and her opinions. He had seen again and again how easy and common it was for men in power like himself to use that power poorly in relationships.

  And so, he stayed silent.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to get through this week, watching you with those women. But I will. I will do my best to stay away. To stay back. To give you the time you need and the chance to do what you came to do.”

  Words burned inside Hamilton. He wanted to tell her that he had come to find someone to marry. That he expected to choose someone based on reason, on companionship.

  This? Passion and fire and an instant connection that he both believed in and didn’t believe in—this had never been part of the equation. And yet, the pull he felt toward Jane rivaled that of the moon’s pull on the tide.

  She took another step away from him. Hamilton could feel her creating the same distance emotionally, and he hated everything about it. But he didn’t have the first clue what he should do. He had so little experience in relationships. Would she want him to respect her wishes? To wait? Or to push for secret meetings that might put her job in jeopardy?

  What he wanted to do w
as to gather Jane in his arms, summon his private jet, and fly away from this island with her. She didn’t need her job. He could take care of her. He wanted to do that, to spoil her. If she’d grown up in foster care, she probably hadn’t ever had someone pamper her the way he would like to.

  “What do you need me to … do?” Hamilton asked. He slid his hands back in his pockets to keep from reaching out for her.

  Jane’s eyes looked conflicted, but she hardened her jaw and straightened her shoulders. “Finish out your time here. I’ll work and do my best not to intrude on your dates or claw out their eyes. I’ll keep my job. And if, at the end, you haven’t connected with anyone and still want this—if you still want me—then you’ll know where to find me.”

  She spun, then began running up the path, not even stopping for her shoes.

  “Jane!” he called.

  She turned, but didn’t stop, walking backward. “If I stop, I’ll change my mind! I can’t do that. Finish your week, Hamilton.”

  Again, she turned away, now sprinting faster than Hamilton would have thought possible. He watched her go, his toes still burrowed in the cool sand. Bending down to pick up her shoes, Hamilton sighed before slipping on his shoes.

  What just happened?

  As he made his way up the path toward the resort and his room, Hamilton went through the questions he always asked himself when he hit a snag in business or an investment deal fell through.

  What could I have done differently? Where did things take a turn?

  In truth, he didn’t know. Relationships weren’t like business deals. Whatever happened with Jane was nothing like what he knew. And it left him feeling helpless and frustrated.

  So, he focused on the last question. What do I do next to get the outcome I want?

  With a firm resolve, Hamilton promised himself that he would do just what Jane asked. He would finish out the week, as much as he wanted to do anything except that, and then he would find her.

  Maybe then would be the time that he would sweep Jane up and away, summoning the jet and flying off into a happy ending. But he hadn’t promised her that he wouldn’t spoil her this week, even from afar. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Hamilton began to make plans.

  4

  Jane

  The longer Marisa stared, the more Jane squirmed. They were sitting knee to knee on Jane’s bed in their pajamas, and both of them really should be showering and getting dressed for the day. Jane’s restlessness had every bit to do with the ticking clock as it did with Marisa’s hard stare.

  “Let’s go over this one more time. Hamilton kissed you.”

  “I kissed him. But he kissed me back.” Jane groaned and covered her face with her pillow. “Oh, how he kissed me back.”

  “Right,” Marisa said slowly, as though she were speaking to a child. “You had an amazing kiss. You both said that you don’t believe in love at first sight, except you both kind of feel that way.”

  “Or something.”

  “You both feel love … or something. And then you told him to go date other women and talk to you later?” Marisa raised her eyebrows, pinning Jane with a look.

  “Ugh. It sounds terrible when you say it like that. Do you think that sounded terrible to Hamilton?”

  “I’m sure it was even worse in the moment. I can’t even begin to understand.”

  When Jane tried to cover her face with the pillow again, Marisa threw it across the tiny room. “So, you think I ruined everything?”

  Marisa pursed her lips. “I have no idea. I mean, I’ll say that it was a stupid move. But I kind of get it. I do.” She shrugged. “All things considered, if he’s still interested at the end of his time, you’ll really know that he’s serious.”

  “Right. At the end of the next few days of gorgeous, perfect women who aren’t buried under student loans, he’ll know whether he wants to choose me.”

  I wouldn’t choose me, Jane thought. Why would Hamilton?

  She glanced over at his jacket and tie, which she had draped over the chair in the corner. She had forgotten all about it when she ran from the beach. But she did still have to stop by his room today to help organize his clothes. She could return it then, even if she hated to. Last night, she had slept with it next to her, with the musky, masculine scent of Hamilton filling her nostrils.

  “I should have kept that pillow, so I could throw it at you. Jane, you’re the one he went on a late-night walk with. You’re the one he kissed. Unless he’s a first-class jerk. Some of these men are.” Marisa rolled her eyes, then reached across and squeezed Jane’s hand. “I both applaud you and kind of hate that you did this. I’d love nothing more than to see you flaunt the rules and have secret make-out sessions with Hamilton Brevard all over the resort.”

  Jane groaned again. “When you put it like that …”

  “I know. You can do it. Now, let’s get dressed before Mrs. Morgan tracks us down.”

  Being in Hamilton’s room again felt strange. Not only because he was out on his morning excursion, which Jane was trying not to think about, but because it wasn’t just replacing towels and linens in a guest’s room. It was Hamilton’s room.

  His scent on the sheets as she lifted them. His half-empty glass of water on the bedside table. His toothbrush in the bathroom.

  Jane didn’t want to be nosy, but she also wanted to learn every detail she could about this man. He hung up his towels and made his bed, but whether that was for her benefit or not, she didn’t know. Other than his clothes, which she took time to hang, organize, and label with sticky notes she’d found at the lobby desk, his room was immaculate.

  So, he’s either thoughtful, not wanting me to have to clean up after him, or he’s a neat freak. Or maybe both.

  Jane didn’t find the flowers and the note until she was finished with everything and doing the last sweep before moving to the next room. The living area looked hardly used, so she hadn’t paid it much attention. But Hamilton had set a glass from the bathroom filled with water and flowers that looked like they’d been plucked from bushes outside. Next to it, was a folded note with her name on it.

  My dear Jane,

  One of the hardest things I remember doing as an adult was agreeing to what you said last night. I want to respect your wishes, so I’ll continue doing what I’m supposed to do. But I won’t like it. And it won’t change how I feel about you.

  You’ll realize that I also didn’t agree not to spoil you. Consider this the first gift of more to come.

  Hopefully yours,

  Hamilton

  PS- Also, I’m returning your shoes, Cinderella. You left both, not just the one slipper. Rookie move.

  Jane couldn’t have kept the smile from her face if she’d tried. The gesture was so sweet. So perfect. Nothing fancy. Completely heartfelt. Before she left the room, Jane tucked the note into her pocket and placed the glass of flowers on the rolling cart. It was only when she let the door of his room close behind her that she remembered she still had his jacket.

  She had just dropped off the laundry and returned the cart when she turned a corner and ran right into Hamilton. And a petite blonde in a sheer cover-up over the tiniest bikini Jane had ever seen. Hamilton’s hand was pressed lightly on the small of the woman’s back, and she was staring up at him with a look of adoration.

  Just like I did the other night.

  With the flowers he had given her clutched to her chest, Jane tried to steady herself. Hamilton wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was doing exactly what she had asked of him. And yet seeing him like this, seeing them together, filled Jane with equal parts jealousy and humiliation.

  Maybe it was the bikini and all that perfect skin on display, or the way the woman seemed totally enamored with Hamilton, or maybe it was the way he jerked his hand away from her back when he saw Jane’s eyes laser in there, but it was simply too much.

  Jane ducked through the door to the staff dining area, back outside, and straight for her bungalow.

  “Jane!” Hami
lton’s shout came from a distance.

  She stopped but did not turn around. She didn’t want him to see the tears forming in her eyes. But when he said her name again, she could tell that he hadn’t come any closer, so she slowly faced him. He stood at the edge of the terrace where the path began.

  The tortured look on his face made her draw in her breath. “W-what do you … want me to do?”

  Jane couldn’t speak around the emotion clogging her throat. So, she simply shook her head. It wasn’t fair, what she was asking of him, or how she was behaving.

  “I’m only d-d-doing what y-you asked.”

  “I know,” Jane managed to whisper. Then, realizing he couldn’t hear her, she called, louder, “I know.”

  Again, she shook her head, pressing a hand to her mouth, as though that would hold back the torrent of emotion threatening to erupt. With the other hand, she crushed Hamilton’s flowers to her chest.

  He looked like he might run to her, and Jane both wanted him to and hoped that he would turn around and go back inside. Where he belonged. Thinking he could be hers was a big mistake. Letting him in. Kissing him. Allowing herself to think that these feelings could be more than a simple crush.

  Hamilton took one step forward and Jane’s pulse began to race. She hated how much she wanted him to come to her. He hesitated on the edge of the terrace. Before he could take another step or turn around, the tiny blonde in the even tinier bikini walked out of the resort doors, coming to stand next to Hamilton.

  Jane’s heart—or was it her stomach?—plummeted as she watched the woman wrap her arm around Hamilton’s waist. She looked to Jane, then back to Hamilton, then said something too quietly for Jane to hear. Hamilton froze. When the woman looked back at Jane, her expression fell somewhere between contempt and pity.

  She was going to be sick. The hand pressed to her mouth became necessary for more than holding in her emotions. Jane was going to throw up all over the path if she had to look at Hamilton with this woman for one more second.