Her New Boss: A Rouge Erotic Romance

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Zoe lost her balance and fell head first into the bin. She bumped her head on an empty tin can inside a black garbage bag. Moaning, she pushed up on the unstable pile, trying to right herself. The acrid, rotting smell made her gag. Her entire body shook as she frantically searched her leg for where the snake had hit. A dark splotch stained her white pants and she felt a sharp sting where it had bitten her. Whimpering, she peeked over the side. The snake thrashed its body on the ground, writhing around in what appeared to be agony. Its mouth hung open and the tongue hung lifelessly out of the side, picking up dirt as it convulsed. Finally, it rolled on its back and died.

  Zoe stared at the light belly of the animal, just to make sure. It didn’t move. She tried to make her limbs work, but they shook badly. Keeping her eye on the snake, she hiked a leg up.

  ‘Hello?’ Jackson’s voice came from inside the kitchen. ‘Zoe?’

  ‘Here, help!’ she yelled.

  His figure appeared at the door, haloed by light. ‘Zoe?’

  She moaned, not moving to get down. The snake hadn’t moved. Jackson’s laughter rang out as he came out of the kitchen. ‘Did you accidentally throw something away you shouldn’t have?’

  ‘Snake. It bit me.’ She held her position. ‘I had to get away.’

  ‘A rattler?’ Jackson’s expression fell.

  ‘I think my blood killed it.’ She nodded at the ground. Inside, her muscles were so tense they felt like rocks beneath her skin. ‘It just started shaking and flopped over. Where’s the hospital? I think I might need anti-venom.’

  This time, his laughter was louder. ‘That’s an Eastern Hognose. They’re not poisonous and it’s playing dead. You’ll be fine. Are you sure it bit you?’

  ‘My pants …’

  Jackson walked over to the snake and picked it up. It dangled from his hand as he carried it away from her. Zoe kicked her leg over the side, and landed hard on the ground. She stumbled, falling onto the gravel before quickly righting herself. Her eyes on the ground for more snakes, she limped toward the kitchen.

  ‘Hey, easy. The bites usually aren’t bad and they rarely attack humans. They prefer eating toads. You just scared it and the snake just reacted to your presence.’ Jackson jogged over to her and slipped a hand under her elbow. He urged her to sit on the step. ‘Let me see. Where did it bite you?’

  A tear slipped down Zoe’s cheek. ‘My leg.’ She turned her calf to the side where the snake had hit her. A large red spot marred the once-white uniform pants. An awful smell came off her clothes and she wanted to sink into the earth in embarrassment. She hadn’t seen Jackson for a week and this was how he found her? Covered in trash and bleeding?

  Jackson pushed her pant leg up. His fingers ran along her skin, probing. She closed her eyes tight, waiting for him to hit the wound.

  ‘You’re all right. It’s just sauce,’ he said. ‘You’re not bitten.’

  Zoe tried to speak, but instead she just let out a small sob. He looked so handsome in the dark-blue crewneck shirt and light denim jeans. This was not the impression she wanted to make. Her sweaty, dirty chef uniform was now covered in the last week’s worth of trash. She’d missed him, missed the sound of his voice, the touch of his flesh. She’d missed him in a way that should not have been possible in the little time she’d known him.

  ‘Hey, what’s this? You’re all right. It was just a snake.’

  ‘Today was one of the best days of my life. I was going to celebrate and now I smell like garbage.’ Zoe swiped at her eyes. ‘And when I go home, Marta is going to kill me. She’s fanatical about keeping the bed and breakfast clean. I doubt she’ll even let me in the front door. Every time I leave, she cleans my room – washes my sheets, mops, even scrubs the bathroom the second I’m done in the morning. After she makes me eat breakfast, she’s waiting with a dishrag to clean up the second I finish the last bite. If I go there looking like this … you don’t understand. Marta yelled at me for my shoes the other night after the spring shower and has been giving me dirty looks ever since.’

  ‘OK, this is an easy fix.’ Jackson stood. ‘Relax. Come inside. I’ll lock up the restaurant and take you home with me. You can get cleaned up there. Tyrant Marta will never know.’

  Zoe began to protest, but in the end nodded in agreement. Unbuttoning her jacket, she slid it off her shoulders and went to put it inside an empty trash bag.

  ‘Ready?’ Jackson locked the back door and motioned toward the front of the restaurant. ‘My truck is out front.’

  ‘One second.’ Zoe grabbed more trash bags. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘I don’t really have a choice. I know how Marta can be and I also know she’s the only place in town that takes long-term guests, unless you really want to live out by the highway in a small motel room and walk two miles to work every morning? And she told me about the muddy shoes. You’re already on probation with her.’

  Zoe gasped. ‘They were barely dirty!’

  Jackson merely laughed. Parked outside, his new black truck was the only vehicle on the street.

  ‘Is it normally this quiet on a Friday night? I thought teenagers would be out and about.’ Zoe glanced up and down the barren street.

  ‘Ranch parties,’ he answered. ‘They pick secret locations around the different ranches to meet. It becomes a game of sorts between the kids and the local police. They hide the parties and then time it to see how long it takes the cops to break them up.’

  He opened the passenger door for her. Zoe put the bag with her jacket in the back before laying the trash bags on the seat to protect his leather. Sitting gingerly on the seat, she made sure not to touch anything. Jackson climbed in next to her and started the truck. Zoe instantly rolled down the electric window and sat as far away from him as she could, hoping the breeze filtering through the car didn’t carry her smell over to him. He drove past the bed and breakfast, navigating through a residential district before following a winding road outside of town.

  ‘Where do you live exactly?’ Zoe leant to see out the window. His headlights illuminated the blacktop road as the houses became further and further apart.

  ‘I have a little spread a couple miles outside of town. Just up this hill.’ The winding road forked in two directions and he took the right. They passed through an open wrought-iron gate supported by two red-brick columns. Hanging lanterns lit up as they passed. The drive turned to gravel as they left the main highway.

  ‘Is this it?’ Zoe kept expecting to see the house. The gates looked as if they belonged to one, but the road kept going.

  ‘This is the driveway.’ Jackson grinned. He rested one arm on his open window, driving with the other hand on the wheel. She stared briefly at his strong fingers, squirming a little in her seat.

  The full moon shone over the land in the clear sky. Oak trees lined the drive, spaced equally apart as if by design. Silvery moss clung to their limbs, giving the landscape an eerie feel. Swallowing nervously at the quiet isolation of their surroundings, Zoe said, ‘You’re not bringing me to a haunted house or something, are you?’

  ‘There have been rumors that the old place is haunted. It was built back in the 1800s. Of course, it’s said all of these old houses are haunted. It’s a Southern thing. We love it so much we don’t leave after we die.’ He grinned. It was an incorrigibly handsome look that made her shiver. ‘Why? You scared?’

  ‘It’s, ah –’ she wanted to say creepy, but instead finished, ‘– quaint.’

  After about a mile, she saw the house emerge from behind the trees. ‘Little’ was not how she would have described the plantation-style mansion that greeted them. The driveway turned to bricks and wound around a central pedestal. Overhead lights came on as they drove up, illuminating a stone statue of a graceful naked woman that stood in the middle.

  The red-brick façade matched the stone on the ground. In the center, a two-story section stood high over the drive. One-and-a-half-story wings came off of each side, perfect matches to each other in desi
gn and connected to the center part by covered walkways. A low-pitched roof showcased four tall chimneys, one coming from each corner of the main section. Long rectangular windows, arranged symmetrically around the main doorway, had decorative semicircular fanlights over the tops. The frames were painted a stark white with black shutters as accents. Two narrow windows bordered the front door, making it appear even wider than it already was. Over the door, on the second story, an arched Palladian window mimicked the shape of the door. Decorative molding jutted out from the roofline beneath the cornice.

  Zoe had her hand on the handle, opening the door before the truck stopped. As it slowed, she stepped onto the brick drive. ‘This is amazing. You actually live here? By yourself?’

  ‘For about five years now. I bought it and restored it to its original state. There are some ruins from the old icehouse, dairy, meat house, barns and stables, but they were too far gone to restore. I thought about keeping horses, but I’m not home nearly enough and I don’t want to compete with the local ranchers.’ He walked around his car, looking over the house as if seeing it for the first time. ‘When I was a kid, we used to love to come out here and walk through the overgrown gardens. There’s an old graveyard out back, where the rich landowners who owned most of the land in Dabery used to bury their family members. In high school, we would take girls back there to scare them. Now the gardens are manicured, but sometimes I miss the run-down look.’

  ‘Please tell me you’ve outgrown scaring girls. I really don’t like to be frightened.’ Zoe looked at him, trying not to step too close. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  ‘Possibly.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t really bring girls here any more. Well, except for Rachel and Rita.’

  ‘Rachel? Rita?’ Zoe’s voice went up an octave as she said the other women’s names.

  ‘The housekeepers. I’d be a slob without them.’ His feet made small tapping noises as he crossed over the drive to his front door. She followed slowly, unable to stop looking around. ‘The house is considered antebellum because it was built before the Civil War, but the style of architecture is called Federal. You can tell by the curved lines and decorative flourish. All the bricks you see are original, made on the old plantation in a kiln they kept on the grounds, and inside, the original wood framing came from trees on the property. The stone trim came from a local quarry. This house is pure South Carolina.’

  He opened the door, letting her walk in first. She ducked past him quickly. An overhead chandelier illuminated the tall ceiling. At the end of the front hall, a wide staircase led up to the second story. She could see part of the landing. Beautiful dental crown molding lined the tops of the doors and archways. The white frames blended with the slightly off-white color of the walls, a perfect enhancement to the gleaming dark wood of the floors and oversized rugs. Aside from a couple of antique mirrors and a wooden table, there were no decorations in the room.

  ‘On your left is the parlor and behind that the dining room. A covered walkway with a bathroom leads to the south wing, where you can find the kitchen and laundry room. To your right are the living room and my office, another covered walkway and bathroom, the old library with some of the original books and the old servants’ quarters turned reading room. Straight ahead, if you pass the staircase on either side, you’ll find the back door and a stone porch leading to the gardens.’ He motioned to the left. ‘Would you like a tour?’

  ‘I would love one, but do you think it would be possible to take that shower first?’ She gave a sheepish glance down at her stained pants. ‘Please.’

  He chuckled, nodding. ‘Right this way.’

  Jackson let her walk up the stairs first. Zoe could just imagine the stains on the back of her pants and closed her eyes in mortification. Here she was in the most gorgeous mansion she’d ever seen and she smelt like she was homeless. This place was definitely a far cry from her crappy apartment back in New York. Hell, the bed and breakfast was better than her apartment.

  The wood banister gleamed, but she didn’t touch it as she reached the top landing. More white walls and wooden floors covered in rugs greeted them. What little furniture she could see looked true to the period of the house – all wooden with finely carved details.

  ‘The upstairs is a little different from most Federalist homes, as far as the layout goes. There are four guest bedrooms named for different Southern cities and one master bedroom. Each has its own bathroom. The master bedroom has balcony access and a sitting room that joins it to what used to be the lady of the house’s bedroom.’ Jackson walked to the left.

  ‘Which room should I take?’

  ‘I’ll let you choose.’ He looked at her, his eyes narrowed as if they held some secret meaning. She had to look away. ‘But for now you can use my bathroom. Since I rarely have guests other than family, I haven’t had the housekeepers stock the other bathrooms with toiletries.’

  The master bedroom had the same light walls as the rest of the house, with a dark wooden armoire, king-sized bed with four square posters and a giant wood fireplace. Logs were neatly stacked inside it, ready to be lit, and more were placed by its side. An antique mirror hung over the mantel. The blue-gray and silver comforter matched the thick, open curtains over the large window.

  ‘Your home is lovely,’ Zoe said. ‘It’s better than lovely, it’s amazing.’

  ‘It’s been a project. For some reason, I always have big projects going. I like having something to do to fill the hours.’

  ‘It seems to be working for you.’

  ‘Bathroom’s this way.’ Jackson crossed to a door, opening it for her. ‘I did have to modernize this room. I couldn’t resist a whirlpool tub and a big shower.’ The gray-and-white bathroom was understated in its elegance. Stacked black towels and washcloths sat atop a small rack, artfully displayed. Cabinets flanked either side of the large sink and not a single item looked out of place.

  Jackson opened a cabinet. ‘Help yourself to anything. Extra toothbrushes are in here. Yell if you need anything.’ His dark eyes dipped down over her body.

  Zoe self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Oh, here.’ He crossed to the shower and turned it on, testing the water temperature. ‘Or would you prefer a bath? I can –’

  ‘Shower is perfect. Thank you.’

  He nodded once, hesitated and then left the bathroom, closing the door partway behind him.

  Jackson breathed heavily, only feeling slightly bad about the fact that he was peeking through the crack left in the door at the shower stall where Zoe washed herself. He couldn’t see every detail through the thick, blurred glass, but he could make out her movements. Her hands massaged the blur of her chest, then ran down over her legs. The movements were functional, not meant to be seductive – but, oh, for him they definitely were.

  He slowly unzipped his pants. With the running water, she probably couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t want to take chances. He dipped his hand down the front of his silk boxers and adjusted his cock to a more comfortable angle so it could continue to swell. Taking it in his hand, he stroked the turgid length. His eyes stayed locked on Zoe’s body, focusing to make out what he could. She bent over and he almost groaned.

  Jackson desperately wanted her to invite him into the shower with her. He’d gladly wash her body if it meant another chance at touching it. The knowledge that she’d allowed him to fuck her twice already gave him hope that this night would be one he’d always remember. He hated referring to what they did as ‘fucking’, but ‘making love’ didn’t quite describe bending her over a worktable or screwing her against a tree.

  He’d opened a window and a cool breeze ruffled the curtains, sweeping across the room. Jackson pumped his hand harder, debating if he should pull his pants down just a little for better access. He wanted to be able to right himself quickly when she stepped out. It wouldn’t do to get caught with his pants down. Thinking of her coming from the shower, tiny droplets of water beading her fle
sh like glistening diamonds just waiting to be licked, made his hips jerk and he nearly came. Damn, this woman did something to him.

  ‘Mr Levy?’ Zoe’s voice called. ‘Is that you?’

  Jackson bit his lip. He hated it when she called him Mr Levy. It sounded so formal, and in a way made him feel like some creepy boss taking advantage of an employee. Looking down at his cock in his hand, he frowned. Maybe that was exactly what he was.

  ‘Did you say something?’ He hoped the words sounded like he’d walked from across the room. Pushing his cock into his pants, he struggled to pull up the zipper. Releasing the erection had definitely been easier than trying to confine it.

  ‘Oh, I just thought I heard you say something.’ Her face leant closer to the door and he jerked back. ‘I realize I don’t have anything clean to put on. Do you mind if I borrow something?’

  ‘Oh, ah, sure.’ He scurried into his room, looking for a shirt. Going through a stack of T-shirts, he decided against them. Instead, he grabbed one of his designer dress shirts – a cornflower-blue button-down he wore under his business suits. The idea of seeing her in it made his breath hitch in his throat.

  He heard the shower turn off and went toward the door. Sticking his arm through, he said, ‘Will this work?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  Jackson glanced at the mirror over the sink, getting a peek at the side of her breast. Not wanting to get caught being the voyeur, he pulled the door closed to give her privacy. Already he felt a little dirty about spying.

  Sniffing his shirt, he frowned and pulled it over his head before kicking it under his bed. He retrieved a fresh grey T-shirt out of his closet and pulled some cologne out of his travel bag. Ridding himself of his tight jeans, he slipped on some pyjama pants and left his feet bare. Tonight, he would woo Zoe to his bed and he would make love to her right.

  Ever since he’d finished building the house and moved in, he’d felt the emptiness of the vast estate closing in on him. This house was meant to have people in it, to entertain guests. An almost giddy excitement coursed through him to have her in his home. He hadn’t meant to go on and on about the house’s architectural style, but he’d wanted to tell her about it because it was important to him.