The Billionaire's Bluff

by Nella Tyler

  I shook my head with regret. Figures. The one and only time that I had met a guy that I felt such an inmate and instinctual attraction to ended up being my boss, and I had already overstepped my bounds. I had a feeling that because of my reaction, justified though it was, I might never see him again. The thought left me feeling even more depressed and confused than I already was.

  Chapter 2

  By the time I got home, I felt more confused than ever. I needed to talk to someone. I needed to call Samantha. Before I called her, however, I wanted to refresh myself, so I quickly undressed and stepped into the shower. As I showered, I recalled what I could of the sex with Luke the previous evening. As a result, I couldn't stop the tingling in my nether regions that erupted. I reached for the warm water knob and adjusted it, thinking that what I needed was a good, cold shower.

  By the time I stepped out of the shower, my teeth were chattering, but at least I had been distracted from thoughts of Luke. I toweled off my goosebumped skin and stepped into my bedroom. In a matter of minutes, I was dressed in an old, faded pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I pulled my multi-length and almost shoulder-length hair into a high ponytail. As usual, most of the hair fell out and framed my face, but I didn’t care. Samantha was used to my causal dress and hairstyles when we were out and about.

  Only then did I step back into the living room of my condo and snatch my cell phone from my purse. I pressed my speed dial and waited. After two rings, the call was answered.

  "Hey, Molly, how's it going?"

  For a second I hesitated. What to say? "I guess it's going okay, but if you have time, I really need to talk to you about something."

  "Uh-oh," she said. "You didn't get fired, did you?"

  "I don't think so," I admitted.

  Samantha said nothing for several seconds. "Okay, I don't have to be anywhere until this afternoon. Where and when?"

  "Can you meet me at the park off Fifth Street in about a half hour?" I asked.

  "Sure," she said. "I’ll stop and pick up some coffee on the way." Again, there was a brief silence. "You're not in any trouble, are you, Molly?"

  I made a face. Why did she always think I was getting into trouble? "I'll take the fifth on that," I said. "I just need to talk to you, and you're the only person I can confide in."

  "And don't you forget it," she said. "I'll see you soon."

  The call disconnected and I put the phone back in my purse. Samantha was one of those people who was a good listener, didn't offer platitudes, and pretty much said it like it was, at least, when it came to her opinion. I knew that when I talked to her, I could count on her to really absorb what I was saying. Not only that, she was a straight shooter, and like it or not, when she offered her advice, it was how she truly felt. Not only that, but I knew she could keep a secret. Sometimes I thought of her as I would a priest taking confession. I could tell Samantha anything and I knew it would go no further. Of course, I tried to be the same way, but people rarely confided in me. That gave me pause, but I was too distracted to try and work that one out.

  Even though Samantha and I were best friends, we didn’t always agree. Nevertheless, her advice was always well intentioned and she knew me so well that often I didn't have to go into a great detail about what I was thinking. We had been best friends so long we were probably closer than most sisters. Sometimes I didn't like the advice Samantha gave me, and vice versa, but we knew that when it came to each other, the advice, comments, and even criticisms were always dished out with love and the other person's best interests at heart.

  *

  I drove to the park, actually looking forward to a little bit of outside time. It wasn't very hot today and the sun wouldn't be too bright, making it a perfect morning to be out and about. I liked being outdoors, but didn't get a chance to go hiking or just sit out at the park very often anymore. I always looked forward to it, though, because it gave me a chance to defrag, so to speak, to reboot.

  There was nothing more relaxing to me than sitting outdoors listening to the birds chirp, the squirrels chatter away, watch the breeze ruffle through tree branches, and smile at the clouds floating overhead. Being outside and just clearing my mind and focusing on nature around me always made me feel so much better. I didn't feel pressured.

  Unfortunately, my thoughts this morning were dark and confused, so by the time I got to the park, climbed out of my car, and meandered over to a park bench in the shade of an old oak tree, my thoughts were roiling again with uncertainty, doubt, and even fear. Several minutes later, I saw Samantha's car pull into the parking lot on this side of the park, our favorite place. She spotted my car and pulled up right next to it. She got out and headed toward me, carrying two cardboard cups of coffee.

  "Caramel mocha for you, white chocolate latte for me," she smiled.

  She sat down on the bench next to me. For several moments, we just sipped our coffee, appreciating the cool, mid morning breeze. I wasn't certain how I would broach the topic of discussion this morning, but I knew that she would understand and be able to offer me some good advice. While she sometimes disapproved of my actions, she was never condescending or cruel. I counted on that, especially this morning.

  "Okay, spill.”

  I glanced at her and tried to delay by taking another sip of my coffee.

  "Molly…"

  She stared at me, all serious now, her expression slowly transforming into one of worry.

  "Molly, what did you do?"

  I frowned. "I didn't do anything!"

  "Then why the emergency session?"

  I sighed. "I'll tell you, but please let me get it all out and don't interrupt until I'm finished, okay?" She gave me an odd look. "I mean it, Samantha. If you interrupt me, I probably won't be able to continue, and I really need to get it out. I need your advice!"

  "Agreed," she sighed. "I'll try my best not to interrupt."

  "Okay," I nodded. "Well I guess I should start at the beginning. When I got to Luke's house-"

  "Luke's house?" she immediately interrupted.

  "Samantha! You promised!"

  Samantha slapped a hand over her mouth and apologized. "Sorry, Molly, but you've gone from Mister Benning to Luke in less than a week?"

  I frowned and sought to retain my patience. "Samantha, I know you're going to have a million questions, but again, can you please let me just get this out?" I felt the warmth of tears burning my eyes and Samantha saw them, as well. She placed a hand on my knee.

  "I'm sorry, Molly, really. I'll try…go ahead."

  "Well I guess one of the most pertinent things to mention before he even gets started is to tell you that Luke Benning is one of the hottest guys I've ever met." Samantha didn't say anything, but her eyes grew wide. I could just imagine what was going through her head. To keep from asking a question, she lifted her coffee cup to her lips and sipped, and then gestured with her hand for me to continue.

  I dove right in, telling Samantha everything that had happened from my first day working for Luke, the way he had stared at me to the point that it was beginning to creep me out, and then of his bold invitation to visit the backyard, the swimming pool, the drinks… At that point Samantha opened her mouth to speak. I scowled and shook my head, and once again she slapped her hand over her mouth. She was already slowly shaking her head and had rolled her eyes twice. She gestured for me to continue. I did so, hesitantly, finishing up by telling her pretty much how the rest of the week had gone, and of course, of Luke's asking me out on a date.

  I had to pause at that point. I sipped my own coffee, grown lukewarm by now, hesitating to continue. I could tell Samantha was already shocked and showing some signs of disapproval, but I continued to forge ahead. I told her about the dress he bought for me, the dinner date, and the drinks afterward at his house. Then I confessed about the sex. Not only did it happen on the living room couch, but then again in his bed. I also told her what had transpired just this morning.

  Several times during my speech, Samantha had closed her
eyes, shaking her head. When I finally got the entire story out, my heart thudded dully. My coffee had grown cold. "Samantha, what should I do?"

  She looked at me with a strange expression on her face, one I'd never seen before. Shock? We both knew each other so well that I was aware of her sexual escapades and she was aware of mine, not that there were many, so I couldn't really understand the increasing sense of disapproval emanating from her. "Well? Say something!"

  She sighed. "Molly, you know as well as I do that you shouldn't be getting involved with your boss."

  "I know, I know! It wasn't exactly like it was planned," I tried to explain. "There's just something about him, something that compels me-"

  "You do know that it can't possibly end well, don't you?"

  "Why do you think I wanted to talk to you?” I asked. “I'm so confused I don't know which way is up!"

  "Molly, you told me that you wanted to make it on your own, without anyone's help; certainly not your father’s. So I have to be blunt here and ask you what the hell do you think you're doing?"

  I felt a surge of disappointment rush through me. I couldn't understand her frustration, or possibly even anger, toward me. Samantha picked up on it.

  "Look, Molly, you've grown up with maids and housekeepers. So have I. You tell me, honestly and deep down, what you would think of a maid who was shacking up with her boss, no matter how cute he was."

  I knew what Samantha was getting at, but I didn't like that now the scenario applied to me. "But it’s not like that-"

  "Really? Why not? Does Luke know who you really are? Where you came from? Who your father is?"

  "No," I mumbled.

  "Okay, so he doesn't know and more than likely, no one else does, either – for now. So what's Luke's supposed to think? What is the other staff supposed to think if they find out? What if it gets out?"

  "How's it going to get out?"

  Samantha frowned. "Certainly you've heard the phrase, ‘loose lips sink ships?’"

  I frowned. "You think Luke’s going to blab about it to somebody?"

  "He's a guy, isn't he?"

  I shook my head. This talk wasn't helping. She wasn't giving me the advice that I needed or wanted. "Samantha, I'm looking to you for advice! I know all of this, but it just happened, and I need a way to fix it. How do I fix it?" My best friend stared at me as if I had suddenly grown two heads.

  "Fix it? Fix it? You can't fix it!" Samantha said; her voice filled with frustration and disbelief. "Molly, you can't fix it because that line has already been crossed!"

  I felt a growing sense of desperation. "So what do I do?"

  "I think the best course of action would be for you to leave. Quit your job and get away from him before everything explodes in your face!"

  "But, Samantha, I hired on as a maid! A maid! How can I not even do that right?" Was I doomed to be a failure? Couldn't I even do the simplest job without having my expectations crash down around me?

  "You do know what you just said me a few minutes ago, don't you?"

  "Well, yes, I told you everything-"

  "And just before you left this morning, do you remember what he said to you?"

  I said nothing. I knew she was right, deep down inside, but I didn't want to accept it. It was obvious to me that Samantha knew what I was thinking.

  "Molly, he told you he was paying you anyway, so you might as well have some fun!" She shook her head, her frown pulling down her eyebrows. "What is he, a pimp or an employer?"

  "Samantha!" That hurt. I turned away, blinking back tears of disappointment and discouragement. I had been looking for support and understanding from Samantha, but what I was getting was some pretty harsh criticism.

  "Look, Molly, I don't mean to hurt you, but come on! You've crossed a line. He’s crossed a line. I don’t give a damn if he’s new money. You both know better. And what he said to you suggests to me that he has no idea of the ramifications of his actions or what it might do to you and your reputation! There's really no way that this can possibly end well.” She paused and placed her empty coffee cup on the bench beside her. “Are you going to tell me that you would feel comfortable going back there tomorrow and dusting and cleaning knowing what's occurred between you two in the bedroom? On that couch?"

  I knew that what Samantha was saying was logical and deep down; I knew I felt that way, too. I wanted reaffirmation from Samantha that the situation wasn't kosher. At the same time, something at the back of my mind, and of course, the way my body reacted, wanted me to trust that Luke was not treating me, or had never intended to treat me, as something or somebody merely to be used.

  "Oh, I can tell what you're thinking, Molly. Those wheels are turning. You want to think the best of Luke, and I get that. Still, his actions certainly don't put him in a very good light. He spent the whole first day ogling you, and then, at the end of that day, he asked you on a date? He takes you back to a secluded swimming pool, buys you a bathing suit that happens to fit perfectly?" She shook her head. "I won't even talk about the drinks. Let me move on to the dress, another item of clothing that just happens to fit you perfectly? Then dinner? More drinks? Sex?" She frowned. "Honestly, Molly, what does this all sound like to you?"

  I felt worse than I had this morning. It looked terrible, that's how it looked. I picked at a piece of fuzz on my jeans. "My brain tells me that you're being logical and rational," I admitted. "But I can't help it, Samantha, there's just something about him-"

  Samantha stood, growing impatient. I had never seen her so frustrated. "He’s a player, Molly. That’s the bottom line. There's no way that this could possibly end well for you. You’re the one who is going to get hurt unless you just walk away from it."

  She stared down at me for several moments until I looked up at her. I could tell by her expression that she was dead serious. What could I say?

  "Molly, you asked for my advice. I'm giving it to you. You're going to end up getting hurt. I can already tell from your expression that I haven't completely swayed you, but I'm telling you, this situation stinks. It's not right and you know it. Take yourself out of the equation and put two different people into it, and I know you'd agree. You'd be the first one to agree. So I ask again…what the hell are you thinking?"

  I slowly shook my head. "To be completely honest with you, Samantha, I just don't know."

  With a groan of frustration, she turned and began to walk back to her car. She paused after only three steps and glanced down at me over her shoulder.

  "You just think about it, Molly," she advised. "Promise me that you'll think about it. Step away from your emotions, forget the sex, and really think about it, okay?"

  I nodded.

  "Call me later and let me know what you've decided."

  I nodded again, and then watched Samantha return to her car. My coffee sat untouched and cold next to me. With a sigh, I picked it and Samantha’s empty cup from the bench and walked toward a heavy metal trashcan and dumped them inside. As Samantha pulled out of the parking lot, I made my way toward my own car, my thoughts in a quandary.

  Chapter 3

  By the time I got back into my car, I felt worse than ever. My thoughts were racing. I hadn't expected Samantha's reaction at all. Not that I had expected her to approve or anything, not exactly, but she had been so adamant! In fact, her comments had left me with the distinct impression that she didn't think well of Luke Benning whatsoever. In fact, she made him out to be a pervert, a scumbag, a guy who took advantage of any woman he batted his eyelashes at.

  While I certainly hadn't got that impression of him, myself, I could imagine that someone else could. After all, he hadn't even said ten words to me that first day before asking me out on a date. What had prompted that invitation? Certainly not my skills as a maid. I felt really depressed and began to wonder what the heck I was trying to prove to myself. How could my job as a maid prove anything to my father or myself? That I could hold down even the most menial and simple of job positions? That I could earn a st
eady paycheck regardless of the job position?

  What did that prove? Not that I thought being a maid was particularly easy. A lot of people might think so, including my father, but it involved a certain application of organization, assessment, and analysis, and of course, physical effort. I sat behind the wheel of my car, shaking my head. Who was I trying to fool? I wasn't planning on making a career of being a maid. I was trained and educated to be a teacher. This job as a maid was only for the interim. To be honest with myself, I had to wonder. If I couldn’t hold down a job as a maid, a position where I was pretty much left to my own devices and my own schedule, what did it say about my ability to hold down a job as a teacher? Teaching required a great deal of multitasking, organization, and management.

  Teaching required the ability to work with and compromise not only with students, but parents. It involved numerous social dynamics. It meant working with and dealing with the frustrations of administrative personnel, curriculums, schedules, and the ability to employ a careful balance of firmness, guidance, support, and knowledge. What was I doing? I had more confidence in myself than that, didn't I? At least, I thought so. I hadn't planned on being a maid forever, just until things look better in regard to my finding a position at one of the area schools. I still had most of the summer to get through. I had literally flooded most of the school districts with my application, so now it was just a waiting game.

  What was I supposed to do while I waited? Twiddle my thumbs and live off my father's money? No! I wouldn't do it. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to do something that kept me busy, and I really didn't care how menial the tasks were. That included being a maid. After my failed endeavor to be a waitress, I had been excited to be hired as a maid at the Benning Estate, but now I was having second thoughts – especially after the comments that Samantha had made.