Maid for the Billionaire

by Emma St Clair

“He wants to go to the masquerade ball with me.”

  Marisa rolled her eyes. “Chica, I know that part. What’s your answer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes!” Jane shouted the word this time, and then she and Marisa were hugging and jumping up and down until she knocked over a few candles.

  “Oh! Fire hazard.” Nothing caught, but together, they blew out the candles. Marisa collected them in a basket and scattered the flowers.

  “Can’t have Mrs. Morgan or anyone else knowing about this.”

  Jane grabbed Marisa’s arm, panic dampening her joy. “Mrs. Morgan. I can’t go to the ball. I’ll lose my job.”

  “It’s a masquerade ball. The old banshee will never know or even suspect. And do you think your man would let you get fired? He’s got a plan. Besides, if you guys end up together, you’ll be out of this job and living in his mansion with zero student debt and a life of luxury in no time.”

  “No.” Jane shook her head. “I’m not interested in him for his money. I’ll pay off my debts. With a job. And money I earn.”

  “Will you for one moment stop worrying about that? Hamilton knows that you aren’t into him for his money. He wants you. For you. It’s a fairy tale, but real.”

  “Even if I wanted to, I don’t have a dress. Or shoes or a mask.”

  Marisa groaned. “Stop worrying and get inside. There’s another surprise.”

  Jane stopped in the doorway, her breath taken away by the sight of the gorgeous yellow dress hanging on the door of the small closet. There were strappy silver sandals below and a matching silver mask that sparkled like it was encrusted with tiny diamonds. She swallowed hard. Those weren’t diamonds … were they?

  Giving her a tiny shove into the room, Marisa grinned. “Well? Do you like it?

  Hamilton picked it. With a little help from yours truly. Can you believe he had four dresses brought out here by his assistant? He said to tell you that he asked for a dress the color of your hair.”

  Jane closed her eyes. Nerves and excitement formed a warmth that lit her up from her toes to the strands of her hair.

  “It’s too much,” she whispered. “And are those diamonds on the mask? I can’t possibly accept this.”

  “You can, and you will. Now, shut your mouth and let’s try everything on.”

  7

  Hamilton

  Nerves were nothing new. Not when Hamilton had stuttered his whole life but been in a position of leadership requiring him to run board meetings and speak in front of groups. He had always managed to put mind over matter when it came to business, exuding confidence and calm no matter how his tongue behaved.

  But he didn’t know if mind over matter would work in this instance, dressing in a tux for the most important date of his life.

  “Don’t be nervous,” Michelle said, adjusting the bow tie on his tux. “You look fantastic.”

  “Thank you.”

  But he wasn’t nervous about how he looked. He was worried that his note had been too much. That the dress or shoes wouldn’t fit, despite Marisa’s help with sizes. Or that Jane wouldn’t show up at all.

  “She’s a lucky girl,” Michelle said.

  And something in her tone had Hamilton zeroing in on her face. He knew that look. It was the one where she wanted to tell him something that she didn’t think he wanted to hear.

  “What is … it?”

  Michelle bit her lip and shook her head. “Nothing. I don’t want to ruin your night.”

  “Michelle.”

  “Fine.” She sighed and stepped back, leaning her hips against the dresser and crossing her arms. “I’m just worried about this woman. What do you really know about her? Hear me out. One of the reasons you came was to meet a woman that wasn’t into you for your money. And while there’s nothing wrong with having a job on staff here, that’s not exactly independent wealth. Plus, didn’t you mention student loans?”

  Had he mentioned it? Hamilton couldn’t remember. But he didn’t remember his exact wording when he’d told Michelle about Jane.

  “Are you sure that you can trust her? I don’t want you to put yourself out there after all this and then get hurt. I care about you, Hamilton.”

  “I know y-you do. But Jane is d-different.”

  Michelle shook her head and waved her hands for emphasis. “She’s also willing to break the rules of the resort. What does it say about her character?”

  Jane’s character? The question was absurd. Hamilton could only stare at Michelle, whose cheeks were flushed and her eyes intense. Was she … jealous? Hamilton felt distinctly uncomfortable in front of his assistant for the first time in as long as he could remember.

  “When it comes to love, there are n-no rules that aren’t worth … breaking.”

  Michelle’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you just say love? Do you even hear yourself? Hamilton, I’m concerned. Your behavior is, in a word, erratic and out of character.”

  Hamilton crossed the room. He needed some space between them. Staring out at the sunset over the horizon, Hamilton smiled, thinking of Jane describing the colors to him at dinner a few nights ago.

  Michelle was not wrong—none of this was like him. The instant attraction to Jane. The kiss on the beach. His inability to get her out of his mind. The instinctive sense that he could trust her.

  Was it love, though?

  Surely, too soon to tell, though something about that word resonated inside him when he thought of Jane. He could hope.

  Hamilton turned back to face Michelle, who still had a defensive posture and a harsh expression. He really hoped that he was wrong about the jealousy. He’d never gotten the sense that she was attracted to him. But maybe she had been hiding it, trying to keep things professional. Whether or not that might be true, Hamilton wanted to be delicate yet firm.

  “Michelle. I know this comes as a surprise and a … shock. I can’t s-say that I love Jane. Yet. If I’m being honest, that’s the d-direction I see this … going. It’s the direction I want things to g-go. Is it fast? Yes. Is it unlike m-me? Yes. But what I have with J-jane is … unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Trust me.”

  Michelle smiled, but it seemed resigned. Sad and small. With a sigh, she ran a hand down her face. “You’re right, and I’m sorry.” She glanced at her watch and smiled again, looking a little bit more like herself. “Let’s get you to your date.”

  8

  Hamilton

  Hamilton stood on the terrace under the hanging lights, hearing faint strains of music drifting out from the ballroom. His nerves had dissipated, morphing into an excitement that had him smiling to himself as he rocked back on his heels.

  The moment Jane stepped onto the patio, it felt as though his soul sighed and sagged in relief.

  She came.

  Marisa had told him with a huge smile that Jane had accepted his offer. But until he saw her striding toward him in the moonlight, Hamilton hadn’t been sure. He never felt sure with women. And though things were different with Jane, his anxieties about not being loved, not being chosen, they stayed at the edges of his consciousness.

  Those thoughts fled at the sight of her in the flowing gown. Her hair was pinned up simply and the mask sparkled. He wished that he could see her whole face, but the mask made it possible for her to come without her being recognized.

  Without even realizing he had started to move, Hamilton met Jane halfway across the terrace, their hands clasping together so naturally in front of them, as though they had been doing this for years.

  I’d love to do this for years, Hamilton thought.

  Marisa hasn’t said what Jane’s reaction was to that part of the letter, the one where he boldly mentioned marriage, but by her smile and the easy way Jane squeezed his fingers, his letter must have gone okay.

  “Hi. You l-l-l-l …” Hamilton shook his head.

  Normally, a failure to get a simple word out would have him berating himself. Instead, When Jane giggled and looked up at him wi
th such sweetness, he felt his heart expand.

  “Glad to see I've made you lose your words,” Jane said, fluttering her lashes. Behind her mask, which was a light color and bejeweled with tiny diamonds, her eyes were magnetic. “That was the plan.”

  “You succeeded.” Hamilton leaned in, and as his breath met her cheek, he whispered, “M-may I?”

  Jane nodded, sending her floral scent into the air. Hamilton pressed his lips to hers, and the feeling had all the rightness of a key sliding into a lock. A perfect fit.

  He didn’t take the kiss further than a soft brush of lips, fearing they’d miss the ball completely if he started them down that path. And while the idea of kissing Jane certainly had its own appeal, he wanted to arrive at the ball with her on his arm, to hold her in his arms. He wanted this evening to be magical, and he suspected she didn’t get much magic in her life.

  Pulling back, Hamilton grinned at Jane, then stepped back to take her in again. The pale tone of the dress and the silky, shimmery fabric made her glow. Her skin had a subtle sparkle, like she’d brushed a light coat of glitter on herself. When she shifted in the moonlight, looking shy under his perusal, she reminded him of moonlight on the ocean.

  “You are beautiful. D-did you like … the dress?”

  Jane nodded, beaming. “I’ve never worn something so nice. It’s too much, Hamilton. All of this. You didn’t need—I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

  Hamilton gently pressed his fingertip to her lips. “You c-couldn’t have stopped me if you tried. It was my … pleasure.”

  Jane’s lips curved around his finger, giving him a teasing kiss. “Then I thank you. I feel like a princess. Truly like Cinderella.”

  “Just don’t run off, leaving your shoes again.”

  Jane laughed, the sound working its way into the center of his chest, warming him.

  “I’m making no promises. But I’ll do my best.”

  “Is the color of the dress right? I w-wanted to find one the color of your … hair.”

  “Very close. It’s a little more gold, almost like the color of melted butter.”

  Hamilton felt that warmth in his chest expand, the warmth that only seemed to come with Jane. Maybe he couldn’t see the color of her dress or her lips or her hair. But when she described colors to him, he could see them in his mind, the colors seeping into his sight from his subconscious. Almost a trick of the mind, fooling him that he could see more than black, white, and gray.

  That’s what Jane did for him. She woke up the color in his world. And Hamilton didn’t know if he wanted to go back to a time without that.

  “Shall we?” Hamilton asked, offering his arm. With a smile that made his gut clench, she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.

  They were about a dozen yards from the open doors when Jane tugged at his arm, pulling them to a stop. “Maybe we should stay outside? We can hear the music. We could enjoy our evening right here. The ocean in the background, the lights overhead …”

  The terrace was romantic. Hamilton wouldn’t argue that. But Jane’s suggestion was about more than the setting.

  Hamilton brought both palms to her cheeks. “Sweetheart,” he said, the term of endearment dropping from his lips as though he’d said it a hundred times. “You belong with m-me. Out here, in there—I don’t … care where we are. W-we can come right back out if you don’t … want to stay. But I need to w-walk through those doors with you on my arm. I want to … claim you. For everyone to s-see that you are mine.”

  Her eyes glistened. When a single tear escaped, rolling over her cheek, Hamilton kissed it away.

  “Why me?” Her voice trembled.

  “I can list a dozen reasons f-from what I know of you just … so far. But why I f-fell so completely and so quickly? Jane, it’s s-simply a magic I didn’t even know to b-believe in.”

  The words felt so cheesy. He had never uttered anything like what he was saying, or like what he’d written to her in the notes. But speaking the words out loud, even with his halting speech, only confirmed the truth of the words to him.

  He had never been brave, not in matters of the heart. No one had ever made him want to be. But with Jane, Hamilton was a conquering soldier. Or a king, marching toward a battle that had already been won.

  Still, he held his breath, waiting for her response. “Okay,” she said, turning to kiss the palm of the hand still cupping her cheek. “I’ll go where you go, Hamilton. Lead the way.”

  9

  Jane

  Magic. That was the only word for this night.

  And not simply the night. Magic was the only way to describe Hamilton, or more specifically, whatever was blossoming between them.

  Jane would have laughed or, more likely, rolled her eyes had anyone said out loud the things she was thinking about Hamilton. About them. Their future.

  “W-what’s running through that pretty head?”

  Hamilton leaned close, his breath ghosting over the skin just below her ear. Jane had never thought about that part of her body before, but right now, it was all she could think about. What it felt like to have his lips so close. What it might feel like to have his lips even closer …

  “Jane?”

  With a soft exhale, she tilted her head to look at him. Even in her heels, he towered above her. It made her feel safe. But it also felt powerful, knowing that a man like Hamilton could look at her the way he was looking at her right now.

  “Fairy tales,” Jane said. “I was thinking how this feels magical, like something in a story. You’ve already told me I can’t lose my shoes, and I don’t want to turn into a pumpkin.”

  Hamilton laughed. The sound was so rich that a few heads turned. But Jane had long ago stopped feeling the eyes on them. It only took her a few minutes in Hamilton’s arms as he led her around the dance floor, to stop being afraid that someone would discover her identity.

  More than that, Jane realized that she’s been just as afraid that she didn’t fit in Hamilton’s world. She didn’t think she would be able to hold a candle to the other women, or to hold his attention and his affection.

  She needn’t have worried, but seeing it in action meant more than any promise he could have made with words. His eyes had hardly moved from her all night, and he touched her almost constantly. If they weren’t dancing, he was holding her hand or had an arm around her shoulders or fingertips resting on the small of her back, making her want to be even closer to him.

  “Does that make m-me your Prince Charming?”

  “Of course.” Jane tilted her head. “Not-so-serious question: Are all the princes named Prince Charming? But I’m suddenly wondering if all the princes have their own names or if they are all just Charming. I guess I don’t know my fairy tales.”

  “There’s the … b-b-beast,” Hamilton said, baring his teeth and giving her a low growl.

  Now it was Jane’s turn to laugh. She lifted her hand from where it rested on his shoulder and traced the square line of his strong jaw. “Definitely not a beast.”

  His teasing grin turned suddenly serious. In the dim lighting and with the mask, it was hard to make out his eyes. But when their steps took them underneath one of the chandeliers, Jane saw his vulnerability.

  “Maybe you don’t … know me well enough to say that.”

  Jane slid her hand from his jaw to the center of his chest. She couldn’t feel his heart beating, not through the layers of his tux, but she imagined it there, steady and slow.

  She shook her head. “I think I do. Definitely not a beast.”

  He seemed to relax at her words, the teasing tone returning to his voice. “I’m anything b-but charming.”

  “And I’m hardly a princess.”

  Hamilton slid his hands around her waist, drawing her close as the music slowed. They swayed, foregoing the more formal steps he’d taught her earlier in the evening. His lips moved against her ear as he whispered.

  “Maybe we should rewrite the story,” he said. “Everything except
for the happily … ever after.”

  A shiver of happiness moved through Jane. She pressed even closer to Hamilton, resting her cheek on his chest, wishing he was wearing something less obtrusive than a tux. She wanted to feel his warmth, to be closer to him than was possible right now.

  “Can we go for a walk?” Jane asked.

  Hamilton kissed her cheek. “Anything for you.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder and led her out onto the terrace. Jane’s skin hummed, coming alive at his touch.

  “I don’t know the way but would love to go back to our b-beach,” Hamilton said.

  Our beach.

  Jane’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She didn’t remember the last time she felt so light. So full. So … loved. Even thinking that big word didn’t scare her as she led Hamilton down the path. The sound of the ocean rose up around them. At the edge of the beach, they stopped to take off their shoes. Jane tilted her mask up so it rested on her hair, and Hamilton did the same.

  “That feels so much better,” she said.

  “Though you’ve looked b-beautiful all night, never so much as right now.”

  Hamilton pressed a soft kiss to her lips, one that had her feeling as light as the breeze that tried to tug her hair from the knot Marisa had fashioned earlier. Before she could lose herself in the feel of Hamilton’s mouth against hers, he pulled back, grinning, and then walked right toward the waves.

  “Your pants will get soaked,” Jane called.

  Just short of the water’s edge, Hamilton stopped and crooked a finger toward her. Jane didn’t want to ruin the dress Hamilton had purchased for her. She didn’t know the price, but she knew it was the most expensive possession she owned. She hesitated, then picked up her skirt and began to run.

  “Race you!” she shouted, bolting past him.

  It only took a few seconds for Hamilton to pass her. He splashed in all the way to his thighs, the water swirling around him. Jane laughed, stopping when the bottom of her dress became waterlogged, making it hard to keep moving.