The Billionaire's Bluff

by Nella Tyler

  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 rang the bell and waited. My heart thumped nervously. I wanted to do a good job, but other than watching the maids in my hou
se, 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.”

  I said nothing. So much for gaining direction from him, I thought.

  “I've also hired a chef and a gardener. I might hire more help later on, but it depends on how you guys get along with the workload." He paused and smiled sheepishly. "I've never taken care of a home like this before and figured I could use some help."

  There was nothing I could really say to that. At least, he was being honest. I liked that he wasn’t putting on snobby airs. I gazed up at him, my thoughts racing. My head came up to his chest, so he must have been a couple inches over six feet tall. His eyes roamed over me again and I wondered if I should have worn a uniform. I was dressed in a pair of tan loose-fitting linen pants and a similarly loose-fitting cotton top, with collar and sleeves. I wasn't sure what I would be doing on my first day, or if he even required a uniform, so I had decided to wear something that I could work in if he decided to put me to work right away.

  I thought that a short in person interview would probably be appropriate, but instead, he gestured for me to follow him.

  "Let me give you a quick tour of the house. Then you can get started."

  I said nothing. I got the impression he assumed I knew what I was supposed to do. I wasn't about to dissuade him of that. I needed this job, not so much for the money, but for my own self-confidence and self-esteem. I supposed I could just wing it. After all, I had grown up with maids. I basically knew what their chores involved. If nothing else, I would grab a feather duster and some polishing cream or even a mop and pick a room and start.

  He led the way through the mansion. The ground floor encompassed the main living area, which frankly, I figured didn't get much use considering the all white furniture still look brand new. Either that or he had yet to host his first party. Beyond the formal living room was a comfortable den, which definitely looked more lived in.

  The den boasted a comfortable leather couch, an ottoman, bookcases lining the walls, and an oak entertainment center holding the large flat screen TV and stereo system – definitely more user-friendly. Beyond the den was the kitchen, with an island in the middle. A rack filled with dangling pots and pans was situated over the island. There were granite countertops, a shiny stainless steel fridge, stove, dishwasher, and microwave, Saltillo tile floor, and dark oak cabinetry; a gourmet chef’s dream kitchen. I felt a twinge of envy. My condo was nice, but…

  On the other side of the hall opposite the kitchen was a formal dining room with a large table, covered at the moment with a white tablecloth. Glass-door cabinetry copied the cupboards in the kitchen, filled with what looked to be fine china and service ware. I wondered if any of it had been used yet. Next to the dining room stood a bathroom, and then, under the stairs, a storage space.

  Upstairs, he showed me each of the six rooms, one of them serving as his office, three equipped with their own en suite bathrooms complete with glassed-in showers and step-down bathtubs with Jacuzzi jets. At the end of the hallway stood a floor-to-ceiling window. He led me toward it. I stood beside him, thinking that he smelled good. Oh God, Old Spice. I loved the smell of Old Spice.

  He pointed to the backyard. It was huge, so large I couldn’t see the boundaries for the landscaping, trees, and hedges. Directly below the house was a nice arrangement of shrubbery and hedges – all green. Beyond the tall hedge, I saw the glimmer of a sparkling swimming pool surrounded by flagstone. Between the house and the hedge, behind which the swimming pool was situated, was an exquisitely cared for rose garden, complete with vine-encased arbor toward the back.

  He turned to me.

  "Any questions?"

  I got the feeling that he was hoping I would say no, so I shook my head, but then quickly changed my mind. "Just one."

  He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  "Am I required to wear a uniform?"

  He smiled. "No, wear whatever's comfortable for you." He paused. "You ready to start tomorrow morning?"

  I nodded. When he looked at me, it seemed as if his eyes peered right through me, seeking out every thought and idea. I schooled my expression, fought against the urge to wonder what it would be like to kiss those luscious lips, and followed him back downstairs. It was the oddest job interview I had ever had, but I supposed it had gone okay.

  He took me back to the front door and opened it. I stepped outside and turned to glance over my shoulder to bid him goodbye. I was somewhat disconcerted to find him staring at my butt. He quickly recovered and nodded politely.

  "See you tomorrow, then."

  “Yes” I stammered. “See you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 3

  I showed up for work the next day wearing a comfortable pair of Capri pants that ended just below my knees, booty socks, and a pair of tennis shoes. I finished off my “work uniform” with a dark blue scoop neck T-shirt, but not too much of a scoop. Luke once again met me at the door and gestured me inside, and then, mumbling an excuse, headed upstairs, saying he had to work in his office, but to knock on the door if I needed anything.

  He seemed more nervous than I was, and since he offered me no directions for my job description, I got the impression that Luke might just be a little bit overwhelmed with his new role in life. It was obvious to me that he wasn’t quite sure how to act. I suppose that was natural, suddenly coming into money and being not quite sure what to do with it. Still, if he weren’t careful, someone, somewhere down the line, would be sure to take advantage of him. Like his current “girlfriend” – and I used that term lightly.

  I looked around, feeling rather confused and not knowing exactly where I should start. I decided the kitchen was as good a place as any. If he didn't have any specific instructions for me, then I would just start cleaning. I made my way down the hallway to the kitchen. It was empty and I wondered about the chef he had hired. I knew some of chefs didn’t want anyone in the kitchen beside themselves, but until I received such instructions, I explored. I looked under the kitchen sink, but found no cleaning supplies there. I then noticed a narrow cupboard next to what I assumed was the door leading out to the garage space. I opened it and nodded. I had found the broom closet. At least, that’s what my
mother called the place where the cleaning supplies were kept. Inside was a fine collection of brooms, mops, dustpans, cloths, trashcan liners, and a variety of cleansers, cleaners, and solutions.

  I started in the kitchen, sanitizing the marble countertop. Several moments later, I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. I wasn’t sure what compelled me, but I glanced over my shoulder. Luke stood in the doorway, watching me. I caught my gasp before it escaped my throat and smiled politely. "Can I get you anything, Mister Benning?"

  He shook his head. “Call me Luke, please."

  I nodded and waited for him to say something but he didn't. He just stood there smiling and staring at me. I finally decided that I should continue with the cleaning. Only when I had turned away to continue cleaning the kitchen counter did he speak.

  "Don't let me bother you," he began. "I'm just interested in learning how you work so I can gauge how you're going to perform. I don't need to tell you that this is a big house, and it can be hard to keep up with everything."

  With my back turned to him, I frowned. Had he changed his mind already? Was I going to fail to even hold a job as a maid? I paused in my task and turned toward him. "Is there a specific way or method you want me to use to clean your house?"

  He hesitated for a moment and again I got a sense of his uncertainty.

  "To be quite honest with you, Molly… I can call you that, can't I?"

  I nodded. He offered a self-deprecating smile.

  "To tell you the truth, Molly, I've never had a maid before, so I don't really know what needs to be done. I'm afraid I'm not going to be very good giving you any direction."

  "I understand," I said. I sought to reassure him that I could handle the job. "After I finish in the kitchen here, perhaps I can sit down and create a sort of schedule so you know what I’ll be doing on a daily basis." I could only take my example from the maids that I had grown up with. "For example, I could do the downstairs one day and some of the rooms upstairs on another. If any of the cleaning tasks, such as vacuuming, bothers you, I can work on that when you're out of the house or-"