Billionaire Vacation

by Nella Tyler

  "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 steady 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 want
ed 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.

  I knew I had a lot to think about, so I decided to just go for a drive. I had nowhere in particular in mind, so I just drove around, carefully watching the speed limit, and then after a while, I headed onto the interstate with no particular destination. I just drove.

  I wanted to be a teacher, but I was working as a maid. At least, I had been until this morning. A horrible thought struck me just then. What if my behavior at Luke's place got out? Was that what Samantha had been suggesting? I knew the damage that gossip could do, especially to someone in a public position, and most especially one that required a great sense of decorum, diplomacy, and good sense.

  If any of the school administrations I had set my application to found out about the incident at the Benning Estate, it might very well damage my ability to get a job. After all, if I couldn't show any more discretion and good judgment than that, how could I possibly be a good teacher or set a good example for malleable students? Oh, I knew I could be, but I also had to look at it from an administration's point of view.

  That got me to thinking that I also had to look at the situation from a different perspective than mine. Again, as Samantha had suggested. Luke. What exactly did he think of me? What did he want, other than the obvious? Had I fallen for some sweet talk and charm, allowed myself to be seduced, or possibly even given him the impression that I was an easy woman, one willing to fall into bed with any guy who so much as paid a modicum of attention to me?

  I shook my head, growing ever disgusted with myself and my behavior. While I didn't completely agree with everything that Samantha had said, I also realized that she was probably right. Someone in Luke's position certainly didn't have to worry about his reputation. Guys never did. His behavior was not any different than that of many rich guys, especially in this area, where the "good old boys" club still reigned.

  And I had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. Because he was so cute and I was sexually attracted to him, I had allowed him to take advantage – no, that wasn't quite right or fair. I knew that at any point in time I could have said no and chances were that Luke would've backed off with grace. Then again, what did I know? I didn't even know who he was, where he came from, what he thought about anything. He didn't know about me, either, or at least, I didn't think he did. So what was I? Just another warm body to him? The fact that he was attracted to me was flattering, I had to admit that, but was that all it took to sway me?

  I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror. "You're an idiot," I said. With that, I thought about everything that was going on and realized that yes, Samantha had provided a solution: put in my notice. Leave. Forget about Luke. I didn't owe him anything, and he didn't owe me anything. We had been two consenting adults. The only thing that was awkward about the entire situation, other than the fact that I had been so easy, of course, was that he was my employer and I was his employee. Samantha was right. I had to seriously consider giving him my notice.

  After all, I didn't want my future career as a teacher to be damaged by idle gossip or loose lips, especially because of a brief mistake in judgment and especially not over a minimum wage job that I was holding just to keep myself busy until something better came along.

  While I don't think anyone had seen my clothes lying on the floor in the living room this morning, I couldn't be sure. I also couldn't be sure that Luke wouldn't tell anyone about our little encounters. I had to wonder if Luke behaved this way with every pretty girl that crossed his path, regardless of how they orbited his world. I should've done more checking into his background before accepting the position. For all I knew, he had employed a maid before me, lied about it, and was just waiting to pounce on the new one.

  I shook my head. I didn't want to believe it of him, but I also had to be realistic. No, I didn't want to take a chance at ruining any potential of a teaching career because of a relationship that would…what relationship? We didn't have a relationship. I had slept with him, had sex with him. That was it. Nothing more. There was no relationship. It probably wouldn't work out anyway, even if there were.

  I couldn't tell him about my background now, because then he would believe that I had deceived him. Besides, what would that accomplish? At the other end of the spectrum, I knew nothing about him; so any “relationship” was already based on a rather shaky foundation of secrecy and hidden truths.

  I continued to drive, but after an hour, I turned off the freeway, turned around, and headed back onto the interstate for home. All I was doing was wasting gas. My head began to throb with questions, possibilities, and regrets. By the time I got off the freeway and turned onto my street, my headache had begun to turn into a migraine. Over and over again, I replayed Samantha's comments in my head. Her advice continued to echo in my thoughts. I should put in my notice. I should just quit, move on, and not let things get any worse than they already were. The only problem was I wasn't even sure if I wanted to end this thing that Luke and I had going on.

  Yes, it was base animal attraction, chemistry, sexual tension, call it what you will. Other than the feelings that he elicited in my body, and the fact that I was attracted to him, there wasn't anything between us. Oh, we had engaged in superficial chitchat, but nothing serious. So what the hell was I doing? What did I expect or want from him? Did I expect Luke to declare his affection for me? It had been a date. A simple date. Nothing more, well, besides the sex. He probably dated dozens of women, and why shouldn't he? He was filthy rich now, the target of any woman who set her sights on him and his bank account.

  That thought disturbed me. I had no interest in his bank account. I had my own, and I had my own inheritance. I wasn't after Luke's money, or his fancy house, or anything he owned. I had never been materialistic, but I knew that didn't hold true of many of the other women who would more than love to get their hands on him, dig their nails into him, and take him for a ride.

  That thought caused me to frown as I pulled into my driveway and turned off the engine. I just sat there, thinking about it. Luke would be easy prey to some of these women. I had seen enough of them. I didn't want to see that happen. I didn't want to see another woman taking advantage of him, using him just for his money. I just wasn't sure if he would be able to distinguish the difference.

  I had been around money all my life. I knew how people behaved when they found out you had money. I had seen it all through my school years and into college. The minute people found out you had money they changed. Not all of them, of course, but plenty did. Suddenly they were your BFF, clinging to your side like leeches.

  That was another reason why I wanted to make my own way in life. I had gone to school to become a teacher, although, quite frankly, the reality was that I probably would never have to work in my life. In addition to my trust fund, any inheritance that my parents left me, along with business dealings, had me set for life.

  Still, that's not what I wanted for myself. I reaffirmed my intention of making my own way in life, of testing myself, earning my own paycheck and gaining the satisfaction of being able to do so. I don't know why that was so important to me. I couldn't figure it out, and frankly, I didn't really want to. Sure, I could've easily allowed my parents to introduce me to a number of eligible, wealthy bachelors not only in the Raleigh area, but along the eastern seaboard. I wasn't interested in that. I wanted to make my own decisions and my own mistakes when they happened – and deal with the repercussions and ramifications just like normal people did.

  Normal people. Who was I fooling? I wasn't normal people. I was the daughter of a multimillionaire. And yet here I was, effectively pretending to be a normal twenty-something who just graduated from college, looking to make her own way in life. The fact was, I knew that the
minute I got into trouble, the minute I needed help, my parents would be there. They had paid for my condo. I hadn't earned it. I hadn't saved up for ten years for a down payment. It'd been given to me, free and clear. One minute I was living at home and the next I had my own condo.

  Even the car I was driving had been given to me by my parents. While I was certainly grateful for their generosity and for the life I had been living up to date, I also began to seriously question my place in life. I couldn't pretend to be something I was not. Was I a maid? Maybe, for a little while. Was I a teacher? I wanted to be.

  So who exactly was Molly Sanders of Raleigh, North Carolina? My friends would say that Molly Sanders was an attractive brunette who grew up in a privileged life. She was a woman who had tried her hand at several jobs, but had been met with one failure after another. I wanted to do a good job regardless of my position. I was so focused on climbing out from under the thumb of my successful father that I had to admit to myself that sometimes my judgment wasn't exactly where it should be.

  I wanted to do the right thing. And yes, Samantha was right. I was on morally shaky ground with this…this thing going on between Luke and me. I sensed that Luke was a proud young man, one who had experienced more life than I had ever had. He could be a bit egotistical, and maybe he had allowed money to get to his head a little bit, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It seemed as if both of us were pretending to be something we were not. So where did I go from here?

  At any rate, I needed to figure out what I was going to do – and sooner rather than later. I was interrupted from my musings by my cell phone. I pulled it out of my purse and glanced at the screen, thinking that it was probably Samantha calling to cheer me up or encourage me to make the right decision, whatever that was. I was surprised to find that it was Luke calling. I frowned in confusion. How did he get my cell phone number, and more importantly, why did his name pop up on my screen? Had he put his name and number into my contact list? I wasn't sure whether I was flattered or offended.