by Cidney West
Beauty and the Billionaire
(A Once Upon a Billionaire Novel)
Cidney West
Beauty and the Billionaire
Copyright © 2019 Amy Saunders
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
CHAPTER 1
Mira expected to be in awe. She was fully prepared for it as she left her father’s home that afternoon, eventually reaching the private road that spiraled up and up until she reached the front gate. By then, her heart raced, and she readied herself to be dwarfed by the gate, blinded by the gold ornaments, and intimidated by the security presence.
As she leaned over the steering wheel to look up, she supposed she was dwarfed by the gate. Stone walls rose up well over her head on both sides, stopping at the edges of two wrought-iron doors. The doors arched on the top, the sunlight glinting off a gold rose in the center–and the spiderwebs etched between petals. A tangle of vines poked between the stone slabs of the walls, battling their way up and over.
Maybe they didn’t have time to worry about cleaning this part of the property?
She rolled down her window with her free hand, her phone in the other as she tried to politely end the conversation with her father. “Well, I’m here and I need to let you go.”
“You’ll let me know when you get settled in?”
“Of course.”
“Make sure you eat well.”
Mira rolled her eyes. “I promise. And you make sure to cooperate with Mrs. Miller and the visiting nurse.”
Her dad harrumphed on the other end.
“Dad, I mean it. You’re paying them good money and you need the help. Cooperate.”
He mumbled something she couldn’t understand, then sighed. “I love you, Mira.”
“I love you too, Dad.” She gazed at the blue sky. “I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you later. Bye.” She pressed the end button before he could trap her another thirty minutes and hung her head out the window.
Mira screwed up her face as her car rattled and wheezed, studying the square box she assumed was the way to get inside. It had a speaker, buttons if you knew the code, and a rain cover. Spiderwebs spread along the protective overhang, and it leaned slightly to one side on its pole. Handwritten instructions taped to the bottom pointed to the button to press for assistance. Probably because the buttons were almost totally worn off.
Mira pressed the button and waited, watching a squirrel assess if he could make it from his branch to the top of the wall.
“Name, please,” a voice squawked from the box. At least Mira thought that’s what they said as feedback pierced her ears and she jumped out of her skin.
“Uh…Mirabel Harding,” she said clearly, straight at the box.
A second later, they replied, “Bear right at the end of the drive and come around back.”
This time, Mira was ready for the feedback and leaned against her console to avoid the squealing as much as possible. Then the gates started to open, the wrought iron grating across the pavement. Mira rolled up her window, inching forward as the gates opened wide enough for her to slip through.
She avoided the potholes on the straight driveway that cut through a lawn and led to the house. As she approached, something from the French Loire valley stretched up and out before her, symmetrical red turrets spiraling up from a white stone behemoth. Except she wasn’t in France; she was outside the town where her father lived in the mountains of New Hampshire.
The driveway widened out like a paved maw, maybe to allow proper guests to circle and stop by the doors that lined up with the driveway. Regardless, Mira veered right at the split, circling to the back of the mansion.
Not knowing where to park, Mira pulled up behind a Range Rover and stopped, gazing out at the open lawn, ringed by trees starting to turn orange and gold as they moved into autumn. It was more like a city park than someone’s backyard, but as she focused, she noticed the grass could use a shave and it was dotted by yellow patches.
A tap on her window brought her out of it, and Mira hurried to open the door. A lithe man with close-trimmed salt-and-pepper hair and a receding hairline beamed down at her. “Jimmy,” he said, taking her hand in both of his and shaking it enthusiastically. His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled, his skin weathered around the edges. “Lovely to have you here.”
Jimmy took her luggage–a roller suitcase and overnight bag–and guided her to a back door. It opened before she made it there and two other people smiled in her direction. Another man with graying hair shook her hand, and finally, a woman in a wheelchair with short white hair that flipped up at the edges held her hand as she appraised her.
“Mirabel Harding,” the woman said, a glint in her narrow eyes. “How delightful! Welcome to Rosefield. I’m Penny Tippler, you’ve met Jimmy, and this other man is Courtland.”
Mira’s gray-blue eyes glanced from Courtland with the square face and double chin, to Jimmy with his twinkly eyes, and finally to Penny Tippler, who beamed up at her. She’d never gone to a job the first day and received this much of a welcome.
“Such a beautiful name,” Penny added.
Mira shook herself out of her surprise. “It was my grandmother’s name, but you can call me Mira,” she said, pushing back an errant strand of light brown hair. “It’s what I go by.”
“Mira, then. Either way, we’re happy to have you.”
Mira finally dared to look over Penny, down to the foot that was propped up and in a boot. “I’m sorry about your leg.”
“Foot, actually.” She shrugged indifferently. “A set of stairs got the better of me, I’m afraid. But it’s not as catastrophic as it looks. Though we desperately need your help.” Penny winked, a mischievous sparkle lighting up her eyes.
Mira needed the job–and more to the point, the money–so hadn’t quipped too much over the position or location. But she had worried they might be snooty and difficult to work with here. So far, that wasn’t a problem.
Penny spotted Mira’s luggage. “Let’s stop standing around by the door and get you settled in.” She patted Mira’s hand, then spun her wheelchair around, waving for Mira to follow. They walked down the narrow corridor, the wood floor creaking under her feet, and to what looked like another wall. Penny pressed a button next to it and the wall opened, revealing an elevator.
“This house has an elevator?” Okay. House was a mild word. But still.
“Three,” Courtland corrected her.
“They’re mostly for the help,” Penny said.
The elevator was on the narrow side, so Penny and Mira went up together, her luggage coming afterward. The bell dinged, the elevator jarring as it stopped. The other side of the elevator opened, and Mira stepped out onto a carpeted hallway. She stared down to the end, where there was a window, a series of closed doors to one side.
“We’re along the back of the house here,” Penny said, pushing open one of the middle doors. She wheeled inside, spinning around to see Mira.
It was a modest sized room with a four-poster bed on one wall and crimson damask drapes hanging in front of the two windows on the back. A steamer trunk sat flush against the end of the bed, and a flatscreen TV was propped up on a dresser opposite the bed. Mira suppressed a
smile, wondering if that was a new addition.
“Small, I know,” Penny said, gazing around. “All these old houses reserved the big spaces for the entryways of all things.” She rolled her eyes like that was absurd.
Mira smiled, meandering to the windows. The curtains were frayed at the edges and badly faded on the inside. At least she’d have light and a decent view, even if she wouldn’t be in her room that much during the day.
Her phone chimed as a call came in and she checked it automatically, expecting her father again. But her mouth puckered when she saw the number. She’d discovered the hard way recently that it belonged to Victor Rawlinson, and her gut roiled just thinking about him. She’d met him shortly after her father moved to New Hampshire when she took a temporary summer job in the town at a small advertising firm Victor managed. That had been a huge mistake.
“Boyfriend?” Penny asked expectantly.
Mira pulled another face as she turned back around. “Heavens, no. More like a stalker.”
Before Penny could ask the questions forming in her blue eyes, Jimmy delivered Mira’s luggage, then they both left her to settle in, telling her when to come down for dinner–and how to get there.
Once they left, Mira crashed onto the mattress, bouncing. She gazed up at the canopy, which had also seen better days. So far, not what she imagined. But not all of it was bad. And the next few months would fly, right? She’d be busy.
Even if it dragged, she didn’t have much choice. With her father convalescing after heart surgery, she had to find a better paying job to take care of both of them for the time being. Ironically, they’d hired a housekeeper for her father, who still needed daily care. And this job covered her basic living expenses, so she couldn’t really complain if the canopy on her four-poster bed had a tear in the middle.
She smiled to herself, nestling down into the mattress, which sagged in the center. It might not be what she imagined, but it was still as close to living in a palace as she’d ever get.
CHAPTER 2
Hunter Masseron watched the car ride up the driveway and steer around to the back. He followed, walking across the room to the back window and peered around the drapes. A younger woman than he expected stepped out of the silver car. She brushed hair out of her eyes and turned so he could see her entire face.
He let the drape drop back in front of him, blocking his vision, clenching his hand to keep from touching the scars on the left side of his face. He took a steadying breath, sitting on the edge of the wingback chair by the window, and buried his face in his hands. He shouldn’t be nervous about having a stranger in the house. It was ridiculous, especially considering the number of people who used to be in and out of here…
Hunter paused at that thought, sitting up straight and leaning back into the chair. They didn’t have a choice about hiring outside help right now. And he trusted Penny’s judgment. She’d promised he wouldn’t have to have anything to do with the new employee, and even Penny wasn’t responsible for his private quarters.
Besides, it was a huge house. How hard would it be to avoid her? He relaxed, feeling more confident that this would work out just fine.
Jimmy jogged in shortly thereafter, smiling like a cat who’d found the cream. Jimmy, Penny, and Courtland had been with his family for decades, they’d watched him grow up, and they were the only people he kept when…. Hunter resisted the urge to touch his scars again. They’d stuck with him, and they were the only people he really trusted now. And that’s all that mattered.
Jimmy clapped his hands together in triumph.
“I’ll take that to mean Ms…the substitute housekeeper arrived,” Hunter said, playing with a thread on the chair. He tried not to pull too hard, in case the fabric finally gave out completely.
“Her name’s Mirabel–Mira–Harding. And she’s going to be just fine. She seems like a nice girl.”
“That’s a relief.” Hunter pushed up from his chair, wandering over to his desk against the nearby wall. “At least for Penny.”
“For all of us.”
Hunter glanced up at him, his dark brown hair falling in front of his eyes.
Jimmy’s smile faded, his shoulders slumping. “I only mean the help is needed right now.”
Hunter gave a nod in acknowledgment. “Take care of her, then. Make sure she’s paid promptly.”
Jimmy regained some of the bounce in his toes, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll see to it myself.”
“I suppose she’s in the guest wing.” Hunter couldn’t explain his heartbeat rising at the thought of a stranger–the woman he’d glimpsed through the window–sleeping in his house. He knew it was ridiculous. She was harmless.
“We figured that was the best place to put her. But if you’d prefer–”
“No. The guest wing is fine. I just wanted to make sure.” As long as he stayed away from that section of the house, everything would be fine. Not that he usually spent any time there, anyway. But now he had extra incentive to avoid it. “And make sure she knows where her boundaries are.”
Jimmy nodded. “Penny will see to it. You have nothing to worry about.”
As long as Mira stayed on her side of the mansion and Hunter stayed on his side, they wouldn’t.
CHAPTER 3
Mira could never sleep in new places, and that night was no exception. At first, having a room with an en suite bathroom in what amounted to her own wing of the mansion sounded awesome. No noise and she wouldn’t have to worry about waking anyone else up if she wanted to watch TV.
She wasn’t the least bit afraid when she returned to her room after dinner. She talked to her father, reassuring him she was safe and sound and everyone was treating her well. He made her promise, again, to check in often. And she reiterated her command for him to cooperate with his housekeeper and nurse. Then, she watched some TV before going to bed. Once the lights were out, that feeling of awesome changed completely.
Mira hid under the covers, trying to think of things to keep her mind off the quiet. It was dead quiet. And she knew that was a cliché, but it was true. She couldn’t hear any sounds of life in the house or outside of it. So, after tossing and turning, she finally put the TV back on. Surely some background noise would help her sleep.
Just as the trick seemed to work, the TV blacked out, scaring Mira awake again. Her heart raced and she laid perfectly still, certain she was about to die. Finally, when she’d talked herself down from that notion, she slid out of bed and dressed, using her phone for light, and ventured out of her room. She knew it was silly, but she was freaked out sleeping in that empty wing with no power. She wanted to find another person.
Problem was she didn’t know where Mrs. Tippler, or anyone else, was in that enormous house. She hadn’t thought to ask earlier in case she needed something. And she didn’t have anyone’s numbers yet either. Plus, she felt disoriented in the dark and wasn’t sure she was going the right way to get to the kitchen. Why hadn’t she thought to ask for a map?
Mira came to a spot she recognized, shining her phone around, trying to decide where to go from there. It was a meeting point of various wings. After a moment, she charged toward the closest set of stairs. Mrs. Tippler had promised a proper house tour tomorrow. For now, she was on her own.
She ran up the stairs, figuring she could quickly assess if she was anywhere near civilization. As soon as she hit the top landing, she collided with another person. Mira stumbled back. A man’s eyes widened just before he dropped his lantern, his face disappearing into shadow.
“I’m sorry…” Mira blinked as the lantern light blinded her. She knew she hadn’t met him yet. But no one had really explained if anybody else lived with them or not. Including the owner of the mansion. And she was afraid to ask. She’d read some things online about this place, but it was mostly hearsay and rumors.
When she didn’t finish her sentence, he said, “Mira…isn’t it?”
Well, he knew who she was. Mira licked her lips, suddenly aware of how isolated an
d dark it seemed. “Yes…I’m sorry, I–”
“The power’s out,” he said flatly. “Follow me.”
Not sure she should obey, Mira’s feet kept up with him anyway, a robe sweeping out behind him as they walked. She hurried as they twisted and turned, finally descending into what seemed like the basement. If he decided to leave her there…. That was silly. Or was it?
He strode over to a fuse box, set his lantern on an old table, and swung the metal door open. “It’s probably a tripped breaker…”
Mira stood at a short distance, getting the feeling he didn’t want to be seen. She tucked her arms close to her body, gauging what she could see. He wore a floor-length crimson robe with a tone on tone paisley pattern, which was fraying along the hem, and his brown hair hung below the collar.
“Do you…own the house?” she ventured as he examined the fuse box.
He turned his head to the side, but she couldn’t make out anything in the shadow. “Yes.”
Technically, he kind of matched the house, from what she could see. But she was having trouble wrapping her head around it. How could someone who supposedly had more money than she could fathom live in such…decaying conditions? From the little she’d seen in the lantern light, he couldn’t be much older than her, early thirties at most. But he was walking around in tattered clothes and acted like this blown fuse thing was a normal event. Even she wasn’t reduced to such living conditions yet. Surely, he could afford to fix things up.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I don’t know your name.” When she accepted the job, she wasn’t that concerned about details. She was contracted to stay at the house and not leave for the time she worked there, and she wasn’t allowed to take photographs or post information on social media. She didn’t care because of the amount of money she’d earn in the process. Yes, it was temporary, which meant searching for a new job sooner rather than later. But she’d decided it was worth it.