Maid for the Billionaire

by Emma St Clair

  Like the coward she was, Jane ran away, letting his flowers fall to the ground as she went.

  5

  Hamilton

  “I know it’s a cliché, but can you get my back?” Sandra smiled as she held out the bottle of sunscreen.

  Hamilton took it without thinking, his mind still seeing Jane’s face. The tears glistening even from a distance. Only when Sandra nudged him with her shoulder did Hamilton realize what he had just agreed to. Sandra gave him a brilliant smile and settled in front of him on the lounge chair, almost between his legs. Much closer than he wanted her to be.

  Scooting as far back as he could to stay within reach, Hamilton squeezed some of the lotion on his palm. Sandra lifted her hair from her neck, then smiled at Hamilton over her shoulder.

  “If you need to, I can untie the straps. You know, if it’s easier to reach.”

  Her eyes traveled to the flaps of the cabana they were seated under. Right now, they were open, but the way she bit her lip when she looked at him again seemed to suggest that she was more than open to closing them off to give them privacy.

  Hamilton swallowed. “No. Th-that won’t be n-n-necessary.”

  Her taut golden skin on display in front of him should have been a temptation. Another man—most men—would have no hesitations. Zero qualms.

  This is what he wanted, right? Meeting someone like Sandra was exactly why Hamilton had signed up for La Vida. She was gorgeous, she was interested, and she didn’t need Hamilton for his money.

  But her calculated moves and her immediate interest made him wary. Asking for help with sunscreen, the flirty look over the shoulder, her offer to untie her bikini top. She was too interested, too quickly.

  You fell for Jane just as quickly, he reminded himself.

  But he didn’t need to list out reasons why Jane was different. He could feel it. He knew it, the way he often knew where to invest, where to pull back. Plus, unlike Sandra, who was pushing all the boundaries, Jane let him go. Even to the point that it hurt her.

  Hamilton could still see Jane’s face, and the pain etched there before she ran away a few minutes before. He should stop this, no matter what Jane said she wanted him to do. He didn’t need to go on more dates to know that he was only interested in one woman.

  Putting his hands on Sandra, even though his touch was as impersonal as he could make it, felt completely wrong.

  “You’re all s-set,” he said, pulling his hands away.

  The lotion wasn’t rubbed all the way in, leaving a white sheen on her skin. But she wouldn’t get burned. Not that sunburn was her first concern as they were seated in the shade of the cabana.

  Sandra let her hair drop over her shoulders, then turned slightly to smile at him again. “Thank you, Hamilton.” With a sigh, she started to shift closer to him on the chair. “Isn’t this the life? As much as I love my job, I could get used to this. I could get used to you.”

  When she had almost reached him, Hamilton stood. “I’m going to go swim.”

  Without waiting for her to follow, Hamilton strode to the pool and dove in, swimming underwater for the full length until his fingers brushed the other side.

  When he came up, gasping for air at the other side of the pool, Sandra sat on the edge a few feet away, swinging her legs in the water. She splashed him, throwing a teasing grin his way. “How’s the water?”

  “It’s … nice. Not so cold but j-just … right.”

  As much as she tried to hide it, Hamilton could see the impatience on Sandra’s face as she waited for him to finish speaking. Her gaze stayed on his lips, and she opened her mouth, as though she was going to try to help him by guessing at his words when he paused. It happened with people far more than Hamilton wanted to admit.

  Jane would never have done that.

  “Have you given any thought to the masquerade ball tomorrow? This might be forward, but if you asked, I wouldn’t say no.”

  Her smile was all honey, but he could still see the calculation on her face. He wasn’t tempted in the slightest. And not just because he already had a plan for the masquerade ball.

  “I’ll keep that … in mind,” he said. “I’m going to s-swim … laps. You don’t need to wait.”

  “Oh.” The smile she’d been wearing seemed to slide right off her face.

  The part of Hamilton that had been raised to be polite wanted to soften what he said. To ask what she wanted to do. To not be so abrupt with his response about the dance.

  But he didn’t want to give Sandra false hope. It seemed like she had plenty without him adding to it. Better she figured out now that there was no hope. Not for them.

  Hamilton pushed off the pool and began a slow freestyle, his best stroke from years of swim team growing up. When he got tired, he switched to backstroke. He wasn’t as proficient, but the name of the game wasn’t speed. His muscles burned, and his lungs were screaming, but he pressed on, lap after lap, relishing the physical pain.

  When he got out of the pool, dripping and completely exhausted, Sandra was gone. Hamilton sighed with relief.

  “I’m not the only one who’s not enjoying the company?”

  A man’s voice startled Hamilton. He glanced over to see a familiar guy who looked to be in his early twenties, sitting alone on a lounge chair.

  Hamilton dragged a hand through his damp hair. “I … uh … yeah.”

  The man chuckled. “Sorry. I shouldn’t butt in. I was just surprised to see someone who looks as miserable as I feel. I’m Colt.”

  “Hamilton.” As Colt held out his hand to shake, Hamilton realized why the dark-haired man looked familiar. “You’re th-that actor.”

  Colt rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Guilty as charged. Hopefully a producer soon.”

  “Why are you … here?” The man was young, handsome. Hamilton remembered now that his family was Old Hollywood royalty. “Sorry, that was rude.”

  “It’s fine.” Colt ran a hand over his jaw, a sheepish smile taking over his face. “Don’t repeat this, but my mother made me come.”

  It was rude to laugh, but Hamilton couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him. Before he could apologize again, Colt spoke.

  “I know. I’m not interested in settling down, but sometimes, appeasing her is easier than fighting her. Now, I’m just trying to chase off all my dates. You got rid of yours pretty quickly. Do you have an overbearing mother too?”

  All the laughter drained away as Hamilton thought of his mom, who didn’t know who he was most of the time he came to visit. “Not quite.”

  “Well. I’d better get ready for my next disaster of a date. Nice to meet you, Hamilton. If you ever need a partner in crime or someone to escape with, I’m your guy.”

  Hamilton nodded, not wanting to tell Colt that he already had someone he wanted to escape with: Jane. “Word of advice? I wouldn’t let your mother force you into things you don’t want to do, but don’t take her for granted either.”

  Colt made a face but didn’t respond as the two men began to go their separate ways.

  “Oh, and, Colt!” Hamilton called. “Don’t be too closed off that love can’t s-surprise you.”

  It was silly, but whenever there was a knock on his door, Hamilton’s heart sped up. He thought of Jane that first day, knocking and then barging in with towels. But she had already been to his room, organizing his clothes and picking up her flowers. He sighed. After the run-in with him and Sandra, she wouldn’t be back.

  When he swung the door open, Hamilton blinked in surprise. “Michelle?”

  His assistant grinned at him before pushing right past him into his room, a laptop bag over one shoulder. “I know you said not to come. But I thought it would be easier to do what you asked me to do from here.”

  He had called at the beginning of the day, asking her to help him set up some of the surprises for Jane. She’d seemed a little irritated at first, likely because La Vida was located on a small, private island only accessible by private plane, helicopter, or
ferry. But clearly, Michelle was all on board now, since she was here.

  Hamilton sighed, and closed the door. “I suppose it … will.”

  Michelle was already moving through the room, taking in everything with her sharp eyes. He knew her well enough to know that she was probably cataloguing things that she could fix or ways that she could set up the room better.

  She finally settled at the table, setting her laptop bag on top. “I have the dresses and the other things you asked for in my room. So, who’s the lucky woman? I’ll be honest—I didn’t expect this to work. Especially not so quickly.”

  Though Michelle’s face looked carefully blank, Hamilton could hear the tone in her voice. The same one he’d heard on the phone when he had called, asking Michelle to help him arrange for gifts for Jane. The flowers he’d given her that morning had been just a preview of what he planned.

  “I d-didn’t expect it either,” he said.

  Though he wasn’t sure why, Hamilton still didn’t want to tell Michelle everything. There was a sense of warning in his gut, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why yet. For the past five years, he had trusted Michelle with almost every detail in his life, but this one felt too new, too fragile.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Not going to kiss and tell?”

  Hamilton turned away, making a show of looking through his briefcase to hide the flush he was sure colored his cheeks. The memory of his kiss with Jane made him hot all over.

  When he didn’t answer after a moment, she continued. “Because I spoke with Mrs. Morgan when I was making my travel arrangements. And she seemed to think that your dates hadn’t been going that well. A few women told her you were distracted or inattentive. Which doesn’t sound like you. It also doesn’t sound like you’ve fallen for someone.”

  Hamilton hummed but didn’t respond. The words stung. His dates hadn’t gone well. But hearing that the women had spoken to Mrs. Morgan, and that she had felt comfortable telling his executive assistant … well. It was humiliating. It reminded him why he’d come here in the first place. All the past humiliations of dates that didn’t go well, or women who wanted the money, not the man.

  He measured his words carefully. “Interesting that sh-she would speak to … you about my dates. When o-one of the promises here w-was … discretion.”

  Michelle only looked slightly guilty. “You know she and I spoke when I set up this trip for you. I told her that you and I have a close relationship. And I shared some of my concerns.” Her voice softened. “You know that I care about you, Hamilton. I’m sorry if I overstepped. I can go. I brought my laptop and have your inbox to sort through.”

  She stood, grabbing her bag, and began walking to the door. Hamilton put a hand on her arm, stopping her with a sigh.

  “N-no. It’s fine. I’m sorry. This is j-just a surprise. And I don’t like … Mrs. Morgan. It b-bothers me that she shared information.”

  “Even with me?” Michelle sounded hurt.

  Hamilton shrugged. “With anyone. Who’s to s-say you weren’t a reporter, n-not my … assistant?”

  “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that. I really just wanted to make sure you were okay. You are okay?”

  The intensity in her gaze reminded him that he still had his hand on her arm. He dropped it quickly. “I am.”

  “If you don’t want to tell me about the woman you’ve met, that’s fine. Just let me know what I need to do to help you. I brought all my work, so I can just do that, but I came for the wooing.”

  Running a hand through his hair, Hamilton glanced above Michelle’s head for a moment. Why was it making him feel so nervous that Michelle showed up here? Why did he feel like Jane was a secret that he didn’t want her to know about? It was ridiculous. Michelle hadn’t just been in his inner circle for years—she was the inner circle.

  Gesturing toward the table, Hamilton said, “Come. S-sit. You can … work from here, and I’ll t-tell you all about Jane.”

  6

  Jane

  By the second day of watching Hamilton on dates from afar, Jane didn’t know if her heart could take it anymore. Or maybe it was her stomach, which was where she seemed to feel all the things. Her gut was constantly in a twisted, painful mess. Her chest ached too, but the anxiety centered right in her stomach. Food had no taste. And when she did eat—usually because Marisa forced her to—she felt like everything turned to stone in her belly rather than digesting.

  This was a dumb idea. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

  It simply killed her to see him with other women. Even when he continued to shower her with sweet gifts.

  After the flowers he’d left in his room—that she’d accidentally crushed after seeing him with tiny-bikini woman—Hamilton had left rose petals in her room along with a real, full bouquet. She didn’t know how he’d gotten them on the island or delivered them to her room, but she didn’t really care about the details. They were beautiful, and they made her whole room smell amazing.

  Last night, she had returned to find chocolate-covered strawberries waiting for her. While she would rather have eaten them with Hamilton, she thought of him as each delicious bite burst on her tongue. This morning, a breakfast tray had been delivered to her room with crepes and a note that read simply, Missing you.

  Jane treasured each surprise, but still couldn’t extinguish the worries that he would change his mind about her, or that he would connect with another woman. And it did nothing to quell her jealousy.

  Marisa’s knowing smile made Jane think that her friend was helping Hamilton with the surprises as much as she was helping Jane avoid seeing him on his dates. The afternoon Jane was assigned to serve drinks by the pool and Hamilton was there, Marisa switched places. During dinner service, Marisa convinced another employee named Kim to serve Hamilton, giving Jane her own table.

  As much as Marisa helped, it was impossible not to see Hamilton from time to time. And he was never alone.

  Jane didn’t know what she expected. He was doing exactly what he was supposed to do: going on the arranged dates with the other women at the resort.

  “It could be worse,” Marisa said when she caught Jane staring at Hamilton in the dining room across the table from a dark-haired beauty. “He could be kissing them. Or touching them. Look at his body language.”

  Jane did. She couldn’t help noticing every single thing about him, from the way his smile stayed polite and not like the one she’d seen, to the way he kept his hands on his side of the table.

  “I know. But I still want to set her dress on fire.”

  “While she’s still wearing it?”

  Jane hesitated. “Probably not.”

  Nodding, Marisa patted her on the shoulder before walking back to the kitchen. “I completely understand. Solidarity, sister.”

  When she met up with Marisa that night on the path back to their bungalows, Jane practically sagged into her friend’s arms. “This day. I didn’t know if I was going to make it through.”

  Marisa had disappeared sometime in the afternoon and had texted, asking Jane to cover her table as well. She didn’t even give a reason but reassured Jane that she had nothing to worry about. With all Marisa had done for her, Jane couldn’t complain, though it made dinner a lot more stressful. Especially when Mrs. Morgan appeared, not saying anything, but walking around the room, watching. Jane expected her to ask about Marisa, or why Jane was serving two tables, but she didn’t. Which made Jane more nervous.

  Marisa grinned and dragged her forward. “You’re going to feel a lot better right … about … now.”

  Jane gasped and threw a hand over her mouth as the bungalows came into view. The front of hers was lit by dozens of flickering candles, and flower petals were strewn across the front of the building.

  Taped to her door was an envelope with her name on it. She recognized Hamilton’s handwriting from his notes.

  “Open it, chica,” Marisa squealed. “Or I will.” She reached out for the envelope, and Jane slapped her hand away, pulling the
letter from the door.

  Taking a calming breath, she ripped it open.

  My dearest, completely un-plain Jane,

  I know you asked me to wait until the end of the week to find you. While I want to respect your wishes, I thought this might be a sweet compromise.

  You see, I don’t need the rest of the week to know that none of these women hold a candle to you. Maybe it’s foolish to fall so quickly, but as long as you’re okay with being foolish, so am I.

  This is not a marriage proposal, but consider this practice for that in the future.

  Jane, will you be my date for the masquerade ball?

  If yes, Marisa has everything you need for tomorrow night.

  If you’re running screaming for the ocean because I mentioned the m-word, I completely understand. I don’t blame you.

  But I came this week hoping to find a woman I could consider a future with. Someone whom I could continue to get to know after this week, keeping that end goal in mind.

  That woman, Jane, is you.

  If you don’t feel the same, I understand.

  If it’s too soon, we can take things at your pace.

  But I think we both know there is something here. Something maybe we couldn’t imagine or didn’t believe in. I’d like to hope for more.

  Please, be my date. And consider being more in the near future.

  Fondly, hopefully, and with a lot of big feelings,

  Hamilton

  Jane read the letter, then read it again, feeling her cheeks cramp from smiling. When tears dropped into the letter, she did not bother to brush them from her cheeks.

  “Well?” Marisa was practically bouncing on her toes.

  Jane laughed, shocked her friend had been so patient. “Do you know what’s in this letter?”

  “I didn’t read it, but I have a pretty good idea. So?” Marisa grabbed Jane’s arms and gave her a little shake. “I’m dying here.”