by Nella Tyler
Beni and Ashlee had moved to Oahu as well. They said they couldn’t envision a life being so far away from their best friend. Meg was moved by their friendship and love. But she knew that their decisions to move to Oahu had a lot to do with Kai and Noah, whom they were engaged to.
“There are my two most favorite people in the world.”
She tilted her face up to receive Drake’s kiss. He then kissed Chase’s forehead. He sat on the arm of Meg’s chair and stared out at the view.
“I never grow tired of this view. I think it’s the most beautiful in the world,” he sighed.
“I agree. I could sit in this chair forever and never tired of it,” she smiled. “How was work?”
“The Tropics will be open for patrons next week.”
“Really! Finally. It’s has taken longer to rebuild than you had thought,” she mused.
“Yeah. But it was worth all of the extra time. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Just stunning. I will have a grand re-opening to welcome our first guests,” he said.
“It’s a sign of the good things to come for us,” she said.
“I can agree with that. We have a wonderful life. And it’s only going to get better and better.” He tilted her face again and kissed her deeply.
Meg melted into his caress and thought he was absolutely correct.
The End
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Maid for Him: The Complete Series
By Nella Tyler
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Nella Tyler
Maid for Him #1
Chapter 1
I couldn't believe it. I finally had a job. I'd been searching for weeks, but it was obvious that my skill set wasn't quite up to the task. Not because I didn't have the inclination or the ambition, quite the opposite. It was just that I’d never held a job before. Still, at twenty-two years of age, I thought it was about time that I started making my own way in life.
My dad couldn’t understand it. Why couldn’t I get a job in my field of studies? Did he not get the fact that due to the recession, jobs were still scarce, especially around here?
Up until recently, I had been relatively content living the life that my parents had carved out for me. I had grown up privileged and had never had to work for anything in my life. On my sixteenth birthday – boom – there was a car waiting for me in the driveway with the obligatory big red bow on top. My high school graduation? A trip to Europe. Just this past summer upon my graduation from college? A condo, bought and paid for in downtown Raleigh, North Carolina, just a hop, skip, and jump from my parents’ mansion.
Not that I didn't appreciate the perks that came along with being rich. I certainly did, but I didn't want to live that kind of life, at least not yet. I wanted to make my own way. I needed to prove to myself and to my parents that I was self-sufficient, mature, and willing to work for what I wanted out of life. The fact that I could never even spend all the money put away for my inheritance, even if I tried, was beside the point.
I wanted to put my college degree to good use someday, preferably now. I wanted to secure a future for myself that extended beyond my family – and their money. Unfortunately, life has a way of knocking us for a loop, so imagine my surprise when, even with my brand new degree in education, I had not been able to secure a teaching position at any of the local schools. I had intended to teach high school history, but the looks I got when I walked into the few interviews that had been scheduled almost immediately shut me down.
I couldn't understand it until I talked to my best friend, Samantha, who had also grown up on the "right side of the tracks” and whose family had a mansion not far from that of my parents.
"Look, Molly," she told me. "You're just way too good looking for your own good!"
"What do you mean?" I asked. “What does that have to do with my job hunt for a teacher’s position?”
"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?” Samantha said with her eyebrows raised and forehead wrinkled. "Seriously, Molly, you're very attractive and that silky brunette hair of yours and those warm, chocolate brown eyes are just the beginning. You've got a sultry look about you, a come hither look-"
"A come hither look?" I asked, confused. "What the heck is that supposed to mean? You know me. I'm not a flirt. I want people to take me seriously. I'm just trying-"
"You asked me and I'm telling you,” she shrugged. “You've got the education, you've got the smarts, but I can put myself in a principal's shoes. Someone as good looking as you teaching a bunch of testosterone-flooded high school boys? Probably not a good mix."
"But that's just it, Samantha," I said. "I've also tried middle schools and even a few elementary schools! What the heck is wrong with me?"
"There's an absolutely nothing wrong with you, honey," she said. "But I think you have to face it. You’re competition-"
"Competition?" I shook my head, not understanding her line of thought. "Who exactly am I competing with?"
Samantha shook her head, as if she pitied anyone who didn't understand the way things were in the “real world.” "Molly, you're the nicest, sweetest, kindest person I know. But let's face it. You're gorgeous, you've got a great body, and anyone in the PTA who even looks at you is either going to think you're going to steal their hubbies away or they're going to be jealous because you're so pretty."
"Well, that's just stupid," I said, pouting.
"See? Even your pouting is sexy."
I opened my mouth to protest and then saw that she was teasing me, sort of. I closed my mouth. "So, what am I supposed to do?” I hadn't planned on this. “I thought once I had my degree in hand, I would find a job as a teacher and could start my new life.”
"Remind me exactly why you want to start a new life?" Samantha asked. "You unhappy? You not getting along with your parents?"
I shook my head and sighed. "Not at all, Samantha. I just want to make my own way in the world."
"But why? You can have anything you want. You know all you have to do is ask and your father will get it for you, don't you?" She shook her head. "In fact, I don't even know why you want a job so badly. You certainly don't need one."
I sighed again. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just feel the need to make my own way. I need to know that I can stand on my own two feet. I want to prove to myself and to my parents that I’m more than just a pretty face, a privileged brat-”
“You’re no brat!” Samantha explained.
“You know what I mean. I want to be normal, Sam…you know what I mean?”
She slowly shook her head. “Not really.”
"Of all of my friends, I thought you would be the one to understand me," I said. I fingered the cup of coffee untouched before me. We sat in one of the neighborhood coffee shops, me with a caramel mocha and Samantha, as usual, with a latte. "Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for my family and the great life that they've provided for me, but I don't want money or status to be what defines me. I want to make my own footprints in life, come what may. Is that so hard to understand?"
Samantha smiled. "No, Molly, it isn't. But you've been searching for a job for weeks. Your looks are just part of the problem."
"But I have my degree!" I protested. "I'd make a great teacher!"
"That you would," Samantha agreed. "But you're, what, almost twenty-three years old?"
I nodded.
"You have no work history. You're competing with people who have some job experience. And in case you hadn't realized it, the economy has tanked over the past few years. You may not felt the pinch, and neither have your parents, but school districts are laying teachers off. As soon as the f
all semester starts, they're going to want the teachers with seniority or at the very least, those with more experience."
I sighed, feeling more discouraged than I had in quite some time. "So what should I do?"
Samantha shrugged. "I guess you could look at the classifieds or online job boards. I'm sure you'll find something."
I shook my head. "I already did, but not as a teacher," I assured her. "I did manage to get a call back for a restaurant and they gave me a probationary trial of sorts…as a waitress – or server – excuse me, but that didn't last very long. I did okay with memorizing the menu and with customer service, but let's just say I wasn't so great a balancing those huge trays full of plates and stuff."
Samantha laughed and shook her head. "You're one of the richest girls in Raleigh and you’re serving tables?"
“That’s just it!” I exclaimed. “Why can’t I do even the simplest things? How hard can it be to carry a tray to a table without spilling the thing-”
“Being a server is a harder job than you’d think,” Samantha remarked. “I bet you don’t take their skills for granted anymore, do you?”
I shook my head. “But wait, there’s more.” I smirked. “I got interviewed again and temporarily hired as a bank manager’s assistant at one of the local banks, but then I found out that my father stuck his nose into it and pulled some strings and-"
"And you quit?"
"Well, not at first. But you know my farther doesn’t want me working in such a ‘lowly job,’ as he put it. I think he pressured the manager. I took pity on the guy and gave him my notice, and I hadn’t even worked there for a week! I told my father off. I told him I didn't want him influencing anyone to hire me or fire me. He wasn’t too happy, but I think he got the message. How embarrassing! I want to find a job under my own power, and I’m afraid it’s going have to be a secret. I don't want him using – or abusing – his position or power to influence anyone. Is that so hard for him to understand?"
"You're his little girl," Samantha said, finishing off her latte. She glanced at my untouched mocha. "You going to drink that?"
I shook my head and pushed the cup toward her side of the table. "I know he cares about me and I know he doesn't understand why I have this need to work. Maybe I'm just trying to prove something to myself," I shrugged. "Maybe I'm trying to prove something to him."
"Like what, Molly?" she asked. "It's not like you're a greedy snob. You never ask for anything. You don't take advantage and you don't take things for granted. You never have." She took a sip of the caramel mocha and sighed with pleasure. "I can't say I quite understand, either, but I want you to know that no matter what you do, you'll have my support. Okay?"
"Thanks, Samantha," I said, meaning it. I didn't have that many friends, as I had always been somewhat of a loner. Samantha and I had been friends since the third grade. We both came from well-to-do families, and we had a lot in common. It was nice to know that I could at least talk to her and she would try to understand.
She glanced at her watch. "Molly, I have to go, I'm meeting Jason in just a few minutes. You going to be okay?"
I nodded. "Yes, I'll be okay. In fact, I’ll be starting on another job today. I had a phone interview yesterday and was hired on the spot, so to speak."
"Really? Where?"
I lifted my chin. "At the Benning Estate.”
Samantha frowned. “For what position?" she asked, taking a sip of the caramel mocha.
"A maid.”
Samantha choked and coughed, her eyes wide as she clasped her hand over her mouth. When she finally caught her breath she gasped. "Molly Sanders, are you insane?"
Chapter 2
The Benning Estate was located in one of the nicer sections of North Raleigh; it was an old, stone and wood construction that bespoke money. It wasn't too terribly ostentatious, a unique combination of traditional Southern-style construction with stonework more reminiscent of the North. It made me wonder who had designed it. A sweeping driveway led the way to the front stone steps and porch through tall loblolly and longleaf pines. The wood and stone house was graced with no less than four gables, modernized of course in copper-colored and pleated metal. The front of the house was all stonework in varying shades of tan, gray, and sand-colored rock and stone. Four-paned windows graced numerous rooms in the front, the upper stories with narrower five to six paned windows.
The landscaping was exquisite, with a carefully groomed lawn, areas of carefully tended shrubbery, bark and small river stones for groundcover. A wrought iron fence surrounded the entire property, disappearing into the woods behind the house. While smaller than my own parent’s mansion, the home of Luke Benning certainly would've cost well into the millions. Still, it had a homey, cozy feel to it. I wondered how many rooms it had, but figured that I would find out soon enough.
Today was my first day on the job. I hadn’t met Luke Benning, but I had imagined him to be a gracious, middle-aged man with impeccable taste. Everyone in this neighborhood had impeccable taste. I wasn't embarrassed or at all self-conscious that I had a job as a maid for a billionaire because as far as I was concerned, work experience was work experience.
I wanted to do something different, something that pushed me out of my comfort zone and would perhaps help me discover who I was, what I needed to do with my life, and how I wanted to do it. I didn't have any intention of being a maid forever, but I did have an interest in exploring every aspect of the world that opened up to me. Of course, I had grown up around maids, and my family treated many of them like members of the family. I had known some of them since I was a little girl.
I had never considered them “the help,” but rather people who came and went and helped my parents maintain the home and the property. I had grown up with nannies, as well, and respected everyone that worked for my parents, right down to the gardeners. If it weren’t for them, chances are that I would've been pushing the lawnmower around the lawn myself. Not that I would have minded because I wasn't afraid to get my hands dirty or engage in physical exertion, but I know that in this part of the South, if you were rich, you didn't do those kind of things.
I made a face. We lived in the 21st Century, for crying out loud. It amazed me how stubbornly some Southerners stuck to the old ways, the old traditions, and even more old-fashioned expectations.
Last night before I had gone to sleep, I had balanced my laptop on my lap as I sat on the bed. Curious, I had done some research on Luke Benning. He wasn’t at all what I had expected. When I Googled his name, a photo of a handsome young man popped up on the screen. He didn’t appear to be that much older than me…perhaps in his late twenties, early thirties.
He was what we in the South considered “new money.” He had inherited his grandfather's fortune upon his death the previous year. All I found out about Luke Benning was that he had gone to Duke University, played some football there, and majored in environmental engineering with a minor in environmental sciences and policy. I found that interesting. After he completed university and obtained his degrees, he had joined the military and had survived a deployment to Iraq. Now he was out of the service and had taken over his father’s fortune.
I repeatedly returned to stare at his picture. To say that he was attractive was an understatement. With sandy blond short-cropped hair, a strong jawline, and gorgeous hazel eyes, he would no doubt turn heads wherever he went. However, in reading further and clicking on a few obscure links, I discovered that he had, for some reason, attached himself to what I considered to be a morally uncouth woman. I knew that new money could attract all kinds of so-called friends and associates and someone as new to money as Luke Benning might not quite know how to handle this sudden attention.
I thought of all this again as I drove to his estate. It was none of my business. I was here to do a job, nothing more and nothing less. I shook myself out of my musings as I got out of my car and walked along the smooth paved walkway toward the stone steps that led up to the double wide walnut-colored doors. I ran
g the bell and waited. My heart thumped nervously. I wanted to do a good job, but other than watching the maids in my house, I had really no idea of what would be expected of me here. I would have to rely on Luke Benning to determine what the extent of my job or jobs would be.
I had just reached out to ring the doorbell again when, to my surprise, it was opened by none other than Luke Benning himself. He looked even more gorgeous close-up. His close-cropped hair set off finely sculpted and explicitly defined strong features that included a high forehead, lush and finely arched eyebrows, gorgeous hazel eyes, and narrow cheeks with high cheekbones. His square jaw and full lips made it hard for me to pull my gaze from them as he stood there, watching me watch him. My heart hammered. Uh oh. I certainly hadn't expected this when I applied. When I had originally answered the ad for a maid for a billionaire, I pictured a fussy middle-aged or elderly man, someone like my parents’ friends who, to be honest, were so busy dabbling in their own money making or hobby endeavors to look after their grand estates.
The guy standing in front of me looked even better than his photos. He literally oozed sex and charm.
“I’m Luke Benning," he said. "You must be Molly Sanders…my new maid."
If I could tell by the way he looked me slowly up and down, perhaps I surprised him as much as he surprised me. He grinned. My breasts tingled. I returned a polite smile. "That's me," I replied.
“Welcome to my humble abode."
His voice barely disguised gentle sarcasm as he opened the door and gestured for me to come inside.
"I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Molly."
He placed one hand on his chest while the other gestured me inside. I almost sighed. Was I fired already? To be honest, I wouldn’t have been surprised after my previous experiences.
"I thought I could take care of this place myself, but it only took a couple of days for me to realize I never would manage. I've never hired a maid, so I certainly hope you know what you're doing.”
