by Lia Lee
“You live on YouTube for your fan base. Of course you couldn’t imagine not being on social media!”
“I have to break for eight hours, five days a week, and then it takes me three hours to answer everything after that,” Sandra chimed back.
“You work too hard, but you should be stoked. Big Boss has to go to Spain to settle some things with the Barcelona factories. You’re promoted and going to see the world overseas. How lucky can one girl get?”
“Are you…you know…well…” she trailed off.
“A raging, jealous bitch about all of this?”
“I so was not thinking that.”
“You were worried I was green with envy, admit it,” Tonya said, sipping her soda.
“Okay,” Sandra replied, running a hand through her hair. “Maybe a little.”
“First, I don’t want the kind of scrutiny it must take to be under the Big Boss’s nose. Second, Trevor would die without me for a month while I was in Europe. I like my life as it is. I don’t need to be a personal valet to anyone. You know rich dudes, they always want more, and if the fringe on the rug isn’t perfect or something, they flip out.”
“So I’m perfect for this?”
“Think about the location filming, kiddo. It’ll be great when he’s out at meetings. Tons of new scenery.”
She nodded and set her drink down. Then, Sandra took Tonya’s hands in her own. “As long as you’re okay with everything. I wouldn’t even have this job if it wasn’t for you.”
“Honey, I don’t need the intercontinental hassle,” she finished, tossing her long, blond hair over her shoulders.
“Well, then,” Sandra said, bringing her can up to clink against her friend’s. “Here’s to new European adventures.”
“And here’s to Prince Charming.”
She frowned. “Huh?”
“The Big Boss? No one knows much about him, but you’ll be there with him as his valet and His Girl Friday. I’m not saying you’re looking for a sugar daddy.”
“I am not that type of girl,” Sandra said, rolling her eyes.
“No, but you’ve mostly had a few losers and not gotten far with any of them since Zane. Maybe a hot fling with an eligible billionaire is exactly what you need.”
“What I need is to stay employed.” And save up enough to produce my first film. “We’ll leave the Julia Roberts moments to other girls.”
“Maybe, but maybe he’ll surprise you.”
Sandra sighed and rubbed at her temples. The last time she’d been surprised had been that toe-curling, scorching hot night with Xavier. He’d taken care of all her needs for over an hour, and then they’d parted ways, never to see each other again. It wasn’t his fault. She hadn’t given him her contact info, and he didn’t have any social media accounts.
It had been the best sexual encounter of her life. The few blind dates she’d agreed to with Tonya’s help since then had been ice cold by comparison.
“I don’t believe in surprises, Tonya. Not anymore.”
***
She arrived the next day bright and early at seven in the morning to help with straightening up Mr. Villalobos’s private penthouse and to serve as his direct right hand in packing for the Spain trip. Estelle had given her the keys the day before when they’d gone over the rules for the apartment and for serving the Big Boss (as Tonya loved to call him) directly. Estelle coached her on all the best methods to employ to remain “useful but unseen.” She’d been prepped for any situation.
Or at least she thought she had been.
The one thing she hadn’t expected to do was walk into the middle of World War III.
World War III with naked people.
“I can’t believe you!” a woman with shiny platinum blond hair and her clothes in her right hand screamed from across the living room.
Only her quick reflexes honed with the rowdier customers at Atlantis helped Sandra to duck the glass hurled across the room. She squatted fast and then hurried to the left as quickly as she could before the pissed-off woman had a chance to take aim again. As she’d suspected, the mystery woman hurled a spare pillow from off the floor. This time it arched across to the sofa on the far right of the living room and was caught by a guy just blinking awake.
A guy who somehow seemed familiar.
He stood up and was at least wearing boxers. Running a hand through his tousled, overly long hair, he kept his attention and his profile turned to his upset lover. Sandra did as she was trained and scurried to the kitchen (cursing the open-floor plan the whole way) and started washing the used tumblers in the sink.
“Lisette. I don’t know what’s going on. I was just getting dressed and you stormed out of the shower like a bat out of hell. Would you like to explain what’s going on, using your inside voice?”
She narrowed her eyes at him even as her pale skin went a blotchy red. “I found your phone on your nightstand. You had six texts just lighting up the screen today at three in the morning. Some ho named Carrie was trying to get in contact with you.”
The man stiffened.
Ooh caught. This might just get even more interesting. Sandra pushed that thought away and reached for a plate with a few bites of steak still on it that she scraped off into the disposal. I’m not here. I’m the ghost here. The valet. I so need this job.
“I can explain,” the man said, starting across the room toward the naked Lisette.
“No, Xavier. I don’t think you can explain anything. I think what you’re saying is that we’re not special.”
“We’ve only been going out a month. I thought we both understood this wasn’t an exclusive thing.”
She dropped her shoes in her rush to shove on her underwear and then her dress. Sandra grabbed the sponge and started scrubbing the other dirty dishes in the sink. She also tried not to think about how much Lisette looked like a flamingo as she finally balanced on one foot and then on the other to slip on her ballet flats.
“I’m glad you feel so comfortable with open dating,” she said. “I texted Carrie back and explained what an ass you are. I think you’ll be alone for a bit, Xavier. Chew on that!” Lisette said before stomping out of the apartment.
Trying to be helpful, Sandra rushed to the door and shut it behind the departing vixen. Turning around, she looked at her boss and then the breath caught in her throat. Yes, she’d heard his first name when Lisette had said it, but she never would have thought in a million years that this would be how she’d re-encounter Xavier Clifton. No. Scratch that. Here was Xavier Villalobos, head of all things related to Catalan Food Industries.
She swallowed hard, and it felt like cotton was stuffed in her throat. Sandra stood there like a statue, batting her eyes and waiting for Xavier to recognize her.
He quirked his head at her and then frowned. “I’m sorry, Miss Gaines. I didn’t mean for your first day to be like that.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, I swear it’s not normally like that around here. Yes, I like my pleasures in life, but I don’t get too wild, and I don’t expect my personal maids to clean up after certain things. Your name again. Your first name, I mean.”
She blinked, sadness flooding her. Granted, she’d lost about fifteen pounds since he’d seen her last, and she’d decided to trade her contacts in for glasses because of an allergic reaction. And, okay, she was dyeing her hair a strawberry blond. But surely he couldn’t be that obtuse? Then again, they’d both had a lot to drink that night, and she did look somewhat different.
Xavier hadn’t changed at all. He was still a sight to behold.
“I…Miss Gaines, are you alright? It’s Juliet, right?”
“Actually, I hate that name.”
He frowned. “Do you have a nickname?”
She was about to blurt out “Sandra.” After all, she’d been going by her middle name since she was fifteen. But then again, she didn’t want to be just another notch in his bedpost or bleary hookup. Besides, she needed this job. She’d already promoted
her special month of YouTube videos and interviews from Barcelona, and she couldn’t back out now. That silver play button and money to help make her first film were so close now. If he heard her full name, it might jog his memory. If things jogged his memory, then he’d feel too awkward around her and she’d be back to a comfortable but lower salary around the office instead.
“I prefer, um, just Jules. If I say ‘Juliet,’ I get like a million ‘wherefore art thou Romeo’ jokes. I got so tired of them by high school.”
Xavier grinned and the expression both lit up the room and highlighted those dimples that even over a year later were still totally lickable. “Then Jules. It’s nice to meet you formally. I trusted Estelle to run the interview and promotion process. I’m glad to see you can roll with the unexpected and just keep working.”
“I’ve done waitressing all over DC. Late at night, you see all types of things and you learn to move on.”
“Still,” he said, dashing into his bedroom. She stood and busied herself with more cleaning in the kitchen as he called out to her. She assumed he was dressing. Honestly, Sandra would be fine if he stood there all day with the taught abs of his eight-pack catching the morning sunlight. But that wasn’t in the cards. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Jules. I work very hard, but I try and be a good boss and respect my employees. You won’t be thrown into a spectacle like that again.”
“It’s really alright.”
He stepped back out of his room, wearing a pair of faded jeans that hung low on his hips and a tight white undershirt. It wasn’t as good as being naked, but his musculature still teased her from beneath the thin fabric that practically caressed his body.
Xavier offered her one of those easy smiles, and she could see how he’d gotten into trouble with Carrie and Lisette at the same time. It was as if she were back in Atlantis all those months ago. Her face felt flushed and heat coiled in her belly.
Xavier Villalobos was walking sex on a stick, and she was going to struggle as long as she had this gig to ignore that, to ignore the way he’d made her felt. Hell, the way he could make her feel again.
That Sandra was gone. She’d been bold for one night in her life, and the cost meant the realization that she’d never find a man like Xavier again. Now, she had found him, but he didn’t even remember her. Even if he could, he would think of her as just another one-night stand. It was best to stay silent and learn to bury the deepest yearnings of her heart.
Chapter Three
“I think I should be the one handling this surprise inspection back in Barcelona,” his brother said as he cut into his pork loin. “You’re a big-picture man, Xav. You’re not always great at focusing on the details.”
“Well,” Xavier said, smiling back at him. “I appreciate that. It must make me the Steve Jobs of the company.”
His brother rolled his hazel eyes back at him and set down his utensils. One hand raked through his short, curly black hair. “I don’t know if you want that comparison. First, he almost bankrupted Apple over the Lisa, and then he was kicked out for a while.”
“But he rose like a phoenix from the ashes, and again, I think I’m the aesthetics guy.”
Javier snorted. “You’re something alright. I had a Miss Carrie Connors practically trying to break down the door to the offices looking for you. I had your secretary on that in a hot minute and a nice pair of parting diamond earrings ordered for her to try and calm her temper. I thought you’d have learned after that incident years ago…”
“I am discreet,” he said, clenching his knife handle in his hand until the cool steel dug into his palm. “It was my date who was snooping through my phone. Besides, we’d had about three dates and weren’t an item.”
“Tell that to security,” Javier quipped as he picked up his wineglass. “You might have a discretion problem. I hope that doesn’t bleed over to your newest valet.”
“Juliet Gaines? Why would it?” Xavier asked, although he already knew it could be a problem. He wasn’t a fool and tended not to mix business with pleasure. It always got messy, and it always led to disaster. He’d paid for that once already.
Still, she was a curvy strawberry blonde with creamy skin and big, haunting doe eyes. He had a weakness for women with reddish hair, always had, and Jules hit off every item on his checklist. God, maybe Estelle had sent her to him as a test of his maturity.
I’m going to lose.
Keeping the smile planted on his face, he added, “I don’t fraternize with the help like that.”
“I don’t know, brother. A redhead—”
“Strawberry blonde, actually.”
“I saw her today as she was leaving for home from your apartment. She’s definitely your type, and let’s be honest, you have a tendency sometimes to think with any part of your body that isn’t your big head.”
Xavier set his knife down. His hand throbbed from the grip he’d held it in, and he probably shouldn’t have access to sharp things when his younger brother was needling him so. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”
“Security, Xav. We had to call security. You’re over thirty, brother. You have to grow up sometime.”
“I work twelve-hour days and have to live out of a suitcase for a month to settle a labor dispute. I’m more than grown. I’m not that guy who fucked up five years ago. You keep seeing him, but I’m not like that. I had one girl who pried into my business this morning. That’s all.”
Javier nodded and stood, letting his linen napkin fall to the tabletop. “Well, if you’re really an adult, you’ll have no trouble making sure you think with the right head while in Spain. Please, hermano, think through this and don’t have sex with the valet. I still wish Estelle had picked Larry instead. He’s fifty and has two grandchildren.”
“I’m not some slobbering caveman. I’ll be fine, Javier. Just see the company’s in one piece when I come back.”
His brother shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. Seriously, would it kill him to smile once in a while? “Oh, it will be. Night, brother.”
Xavier sighed and drained his glass of red wine, relishing the way the liquid coated his throat. “Glad we had this talk.”
Standing up, he carried his plates to the sink. Jules would get it in the morning before they headed out for the airport at Dulles and his private jet. The flight would be long, and he had enough paperwork to go over to sink a flotilla. Rest was in order.
If only he could get his mind off a certain redhead.
***
“You seem nervous,” he said, looking up from his papers.
Those soft brown eyes looked back at him through black-framed glasses, something that reminded him a little of the receptionist from Ghostbusters, but Jules was far hotter than Jeanine had ever been.
She rubbed her hands on the fabric of her khakis. He appreciated she was trying to wear something business casual. Well, the businessman in him did. The regular guy wished she’d worn denim. Jeans would hug her ample curves just right. Then again, it was better for their continued professional relationship and his brother’s blood pressure if Xavier never saw Jules in jeans. His newest valet was definitely more of a challenge and temptation than Larry would have been.
A blessing and a curse.
“I don’t like flying. It makes me nervous. I was on a flight once to California for my grandmother’s funeral. I was seventeen and it was struck on the wing by lightning. It still made it to the destination, but I’d never been more scared in my life. I thought I was going to fall out of the sky!”
“But you didn’t,” he countered, setting a hand over hers on the armrest. Her hand was shaking so badly that Xavier wanted to do anything to put her at ease. He’d like to say that he’d do that for any employee, but he couldn’t exactly see himself covering Larry or even Estelle’s hand like this. “You made it, and we only have four more hours to Barcelona. You’re already more than halfway there.”
“And I don’t think I can make it,” she said, turning pale
and reaching with her other hand for a bottle of water.
He arched an eyebrow at her wryly. “I’m not a dad driving a minivan on a summer vacation trip. We can’t exactly just turn this plane around. Besides, you’ll get to Barcelona faster than you will to DC.”
She gulped down the water and regarded him with eyes as large as plates. “Then I need something to keep me distracted.”
“I can have a movie put on. I also have an e-book reader if you’d like.”
“No, I don’t think that’s enough. I need to be totally immersed in something to block all the stimuli out.”
Nodding, he used his good hand to pull down the blinds. “What do you have in mind?”
“I…this is going to sound stupid.”
“Try me.”
“I have this YouTube channel.”
“You do?” he asked, quirking his head at her. “That was not at all what I expected you to say.”
“It’s not anything big. I have it under my stage name, Mistress of Schlock. I have this whole riff on Elvira where I wear a fakey vampire costume, but I review the worst movies you’ve ever seen.”
“Why?”
She grinned, the expression lighting up her face like a candle in a jack-o’-lantern. “You don’t watch vids? I’d rather be making movies, but until then I love interacting with my fans.”
“No,” he corrected, still holding her hand, enjoying the warmth of her skin under his palm. “I get why people enjoy YouTube. I’m busy, but I occasionally have something I follow. Just why bad movies?”
She shrugged. “My dad loves horror movies, so I used to watch the cheesy or not really scary ones with him when I was a kid. There was this terrible one with, like, rubber hand puppets called Feeders. I never forgot that movie. So when I started my channel it was an ode to those films. Now I do other stuff, like behind the scenes Q&A or reviews of new movies in theaters.”
“I like that.”
“You don’t even watch cheesy movies,” Jules pointed out.
“No, but I can tell you’re passionate about it. I think that’s what matters. My father started this company forty years ago. Before he died, well, he’d still be at work starting at seven. He lived for this company, and that passion…whatever you do that gives it to you is worth following. Can you make a vid while we fly?”