Billionaire Seeking Bride #2 (BBW Alpha Billionaire Romance) Read online

  “You’re passing this test with flying colors,” he soothed.

  I shuddered at the sensual tone in his voice. Heat pooled between my legs and pulsed with a need that I deeply wanted to satisfy. My breasts heaved up and down as I panted. One of his hands reached down and cupped my breast in his fingers. He massaged my mound of flesh, and I groaned and arched into his touch.

  Then it all vanished. He stepped away from me and returned to his chair on the other side of the desk. My eyes fluttered open and I watched him plop into his chair like nothing happened. The only clue was the strained look in his eye and the hint of a bulge in his pants suit before that disappeared beneath the desk.

  He gestured with one hand at the stack of papers. “You can leave your resume here and my employer will review your work history. We’ll call you if you’re chosen for the final round.”

  I stood in a daze, grabbed my ball of paper on the desk and dropped it onto the tall stack. He smiled and bowed his head to me. “Good morning,” he gave as his farewell.

  “Good morning,” I mechanically replied before I turned and left the room.

  Was it all a dream, or did my prospective boss’ secretary really just try to seduce me?”

  3

  I walked through the doors and only had time to shut them behind me when I was jumped by Aimee. “Well? How’d it go?”

  I clutched my forehead in one palm and shook my head. “I-I don’t really know.”

  She shoved her face into mine and studied my expression. “You look really out of it. Did that guy admiring you really blow your mind that much?”

  I shook the fog from my brain and turned to my friend with a frown. “Admiring me?”

  Aimee rolled her eyes. “Of course! A blind man could’ve seen how so totally into you!” she squealed.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the closed doors behind me. They were thick, but not thick enough for my taste. I grabbed Aimee’s arm and dragged her through the manor and outside to the car. “What did he do with you in your interview?” I questioned her.

  She shrugged. “Just asked me a couple of questions about my work experience and what I thought about cleaning. You know the usual stuff.” She leaned towards me and wagged her eyebrows at me. “Then I noticed he was looking at the door a lot so we started talking about you. Now that got him interested.” She paused and studied me. “What happened in your interview?”

  I swung away from her to hide my red cheeks. “N-nothing. He just asked me-um, just asked me more of the same.”

  Aimee stepped in front of me and a sly grin slipped onto her lips. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, so ‘fess up. What happened in there?”

  “Nothing! Nothing happened!” I insisted.

  She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot on the gravel driveway. “Come on, Dee, you know I’m going to find out sooner or later.”

  I shrank beneath that prospect. “Could we just go home?” I pleaded.

  My friend sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. “Fine, I’ll let you off easy just for today, but tomorrow I demand a sacrifice of information as a sign of our friendship.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Friendship doesn’t work that way,” I reminded her.

  She sheepishly grinned and shrugged. “A friend can hope.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. “Let’s just go home.”

  We piled into the car and rounded the driveway back to the gate. Aimee was the driver and she paused at the opening to the street. “You know, I could really get used to living in a posh place like this,” she mused.

  “Only if you win the lotto,” I commented.

  “Or marry a billionaire,” she countered.

  “You have a better chance of winning the lotto,” I retorted.

  She pulled us onto the road. “Well, how about we do this? If I find a rich guy and marry him then you can come live with us. If it happens the other way, I can come live with you. Deal?”

  “When are either of us going to meet a rich guy?” I pointed out.

  She nodded at the vanishing image of the manor house in the rear view mirror. “If one of us works there she’s bound to meet the guy. A little flirting and voila! Instant billionaire bride!”

  I sighed and shook my head. “You are something else. . .” I murmured.

  “But do we have a deal?” she insisted.

  “All right, we have a deal, but only if you stop asking me what happened during my interview,” I insisted.

  Her shoulders slumped and her lips puckered into a pout. “That’s not fair.”

  “It’s fair if I have a better chance of getting the job and have to support you for the rest of your life,” I countered.

  “You’re evil, you know that?”

  “Is it a deal?” I persisted.

  She sighed. “Fine, it’s a deal, but I get to move into the manor while you guys are on your honeymoon.” She paused and furrowed her brow. “Now that I think of it, I wonder who the boss-man is in that place. That Barnett guy mention his name to you?”

  I shook my head. “Not a thing.”

  “Huh. I guess we could look it up on the county assessor records,” she suggested.

  “You know, I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. What if neither of us got the job?” I pointed out.

  “Don’t think like that! Think like an employed person!” she insisted.

  “I think you need to step on the pedal harder or you’re going to be late for work,” I reminded her.

  Aimee glanced down at the dashboard clock and her eyes widened. “Oh shit.” She stomped on the pedal and we flew down the road.

  I clutched onto the oh-shit handle above my door. “Slow down! I want to live to get that rejection call!” I shouted at her.

  “Maybe in another life, but right now I need to get to work,” she replied.

  Somehow I survived my friend’s crazy driving and arrived in one piece back at the apartment. Our home-sweet-home was a dank, dingy place in one of the far neighborhoods on the wrong side of the freeway. It was a hell of a walk to anywhere that resembled nice, but it was affordable and we’d only been robbed one in two years. I tromped up the stairs to our third floor apartment while Aimee swept up them.

  By the time I reached our paint-splattered doorway I met her on her way out. She was dressed in her white shirt and black pants. “See ya later!” she shouted on the way by.

  “Watch out for that first-”

  “God damn it!” I heard her yell.

  I snorted and shook my head. The first step was loose and a careless step always made one wobble down the rest of the flight. I walked into our dark apartment. The windows opened onto the alley between the neighboring apartment building and our own. The walls were a faded yellow color and the carpet needed to be replaced ten years ago. I slid into our third-hand recliner and sighed. Life wasn’t as much fun and as full of hope as my teachers told me in school.

  My mind invariably wandered to the clean manor house and its handsome employee. I recalled his wonderful hands as they seductively slid beneath my shirt and massaged with my breasts. The heat from his warm lips still seared my skin. I leaned back in the chair and groaned. Damn my imagination, and damn him for being so sexy! I still couldn’t figure out how he’d slid so gracefully into my heart, but there he stayed like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. How I longed for him to scratch that deep, aching itch inside me. How I-

  How I jumped when my phone rang! I started up and snatched my purse from my feet. In a thrice I had my phone in hand. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Miss Johnson?” came Mr. Barnett’s voice.

  Even his wonderful voice lit a fire of lust inside me and I had to hold back a moan. “This is she,” I replied.

  “This is Mr. Barnett about the maid position. I’m glad to inform you that my employer has chosen you as one of the final interviews for the job.”

  My mouth dropped open and I blinked at the space in front of me. “Really? A
lready?”

  “Yes. He thought my description of you warranted inclusion in the final round. Can you be here at five o’clock this evening? There will be a dinner with the other finalists and then a few more tests before my employer makes his decision.”

  I gleefully wondered if the future tests would be like the previous one, but held myself together. “Um, yeah, no problem. Is there anything I need to wear?” I asked him.

  He chuckled. “No, food and dress will be provided when you arrive.”

  I frowned. “Dress? What’s this last interview going to be about?”

  “You will be personally interviewed by my employer.”

  I gulped. “I-I see. Well, I’ll be there.”

  “Very good. I look forward to seeing you again.” There was a click as he hung up.

  I lowered the phone and stared blankly at the screen. Before me was a chance at a good job, but I had my impropriety with the secretary to overcome. There was no way such an affair could be kept secret for long, and if the employer found out I was playing paddy-cake with his secretary we’d probably both be fired.

  I straightened and stiffened my upper lip. “You’re just going to have to show some backbone and tell him off. He can’t keep trying to seduce you every time you go in to dust the study,” I ordered myself.

  I yelped when the phone in my hand rang. The name on the screen showed it was from Aimee. I frowned and answered it. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I asked her.

  She replied in a hushed whisper. “I am, but I just got a call from that Barnett guy. He said I wasn’t picked. What about you?”

  “I’m one of the finalists,” I revealed to her.

  She squealed so loud that I had to pull the phone away from my ear to save my hearing. “That’s so great! I told you he really liked you!”

  “Maybe, but he’s not the one I need to impress tonight at some dinner. The employer is going to be there and there’s going to be some final test or something,” I explained.

  “Don’t sweat it! One look at you and he’ll know he’s got the right girl for the job,” she encouraged me. “Oh shit! I gotta go! Good luck!” Click.

  I looked down at my phone and sighed. I just wished I would be the wrong girl for Mr. Barnett’s affections.

  * * *

  I wasn’t looking forward to a private interview with the employer, so time flew by and the hour came when I parked my car on the driveway circle in front of the manor. I stepped out and leaned my head back for a view of the place. A curtain was pulled aside on the second floor and a shadowy figure stood to one side. They disappeared before I could see their face, but I was sure it was Mr. Barnett staring at me. A chill went up my back. I knew I couldn’t resist his temptations, but maybe I could stay out of his reach.

  I steadied my nerves and walked up to the door. After a quick knock the door was opened by the ancient servant. “You’re expected, miss,” he greeted me. He stepped to the side and swept his hand over the hall.

  I slipped inside and followed him into the east wing where stood a long dining hall. Five other women sat at the top of the table, with the chair at the head unoccupied. They chatted in low voices and their eyes wandered curiously around the room. Their conversation stopped when the butler entered with me behind him. The servant pulled out one of the empty chairs beside the last girl on one side, and I slid into it. All their eyes stared at me, some with curiosity and others with disdain.

  I smiled back at them. “Good evening,” I greeted the group.

  “Good evening,” came their muttered reply.

  I didn’t have a chance for a more intimate conversation before Mr. Barnett stepped into the room. He bowed his head to us and took the seat at the head. “Good evening, ladies. I’m sure you’ve all figured out you’re here for a private interview with my employer. He eagerly awaits meeting you personally, but is unable to attend dinner with you. He asks that you enjoy yourselves until the final test and interview.”

  “Final test?” one of the women repeated.

  Mr. Barnett smiled. “It’s a bit odd, I’m afraid. My employer is rather cheap and eccentric, and he wants you to try on some uniforms left by the last maid to see if they’ll fit.”

  One of the women burst out laughing. “Like a Cinderella story where the shoe fits?” she guffawed.

  Mr. Barnett bowed his head. “Something of the sort, but please, eat.”

  The fair in front of us was a delicious buffet of roasted meat and steamed vegetables, but my attention lay on the man at the head of the table. That was because he watched me. I could feel his eyes on me at all times, and I fumbled to catch a spear of asparagus or a slice of ham on my plate. The other women chattered like hens, admiring the home and the dinner.

  “The food’s wonderful, Mr. Barnett. I’m sure our host must be the same,” one of the women commented. She sat on Barnett’s left and leaned toward him. Her eyelashes batted at the man. I scowled at the attention she showed him and anger welled up inside me. “So who is your employer, Mr. Barnett?”

  “Just call me John, if you will,” he insisted.

  “That still doesn’t answer my question, John.”

  “And I’m afraid I won’t be able to answer your question until the private interview,” he told her.

  “Why all the secrecy? Why not out with it?” another woman, one even more heavy-set than I, demanded to know.

  “My employer, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, is rather rich and prefers to keep his identity a secret for as long as he can,” Barnett explained.

  “Why? He’s afraid we’ll steal his heart?” the woman persisted.

  Barnett turned his head towards me and his eyes caught mine. My heart thumped in my chest and a blush rose to my cheeks. I tried to tamp down the hot, aching feelings inside me, but I couldn’t. I knew he wanted me, and I was desperately starting to want him. “He wishes to choose an employee who would be loyalty to him for the sake of loyalty, and not for who he is.”

  Another woman, a tall, thin one with a pointed nose, tossed down her napkin and scowled at Barnett. “That’s almost insulting. Just because we’re applying for a job doesn’t mean we should immediately be under suspicion.”

  Barnett turned his captivating eyes away from me and the spell was undone. “Unfortunately, it must be that way. This isn’t the first Wanted ad he’s placed in the paper, and other times when he was more open about himself it turned out to be rather disastrous,” Barnett replied.

  “Disastrous? How?” the heavy-set woman questioned him.

  “The woman who won the position did so to try to ingratiate herself into his company. He was forced to fire her after only a few weeks,” Barnett told her. He tossed his napkin onto his plate and stood. “But I see you’re all finished with your food, so if you will follow me I will initiate the final test and each of you will be given a personal interview with my employer.”

  4

  We stood and John led us into the entrance hall and up the stairs to the second floor. The hall had thick wooden doors on either side, and the secretary stopped halfway down the hall beside a rack of clothes. He gestured to the rack.

  “This is your final test. Please take a uniform and use any of the bedrooms on my left and right to dress. I will wait for you to dress and judge whether the clothes fit,” she instructed us.

  “Is this really necessary?”the thin woman spoke up.

  “I’m afraid it’s absolutely necessary. My employer is, as I said before, very cheap, and doesn’t wish to buy any new outfits,” he insisted. He gestured to the doors. “Now if you would enter the rooms and dress, my employer will enter and personally interview you.”

  I and the others reluctantly chose a door and entered. My chosen bedroom was filled with ancient oak furniture and a large, four-post bed. The wood floor was shined to a near-homicidal sheen and the wood panels on the walls was almost shining enough to be used as a mirror. There was a door ajar to my right that led to a modern white bathroom. A small table with tw
o chairs close to the entrance finished off the furniture.

  A full-length mirror stood in the corner to my left. I tossed the outfit onto the foot of the bed and looked at myself in the mirror. A chubby girl looked back at me. I sighed and glanced in the mirror at the outfit spread out behind me. A moment of regret flashed through my mind.

  “If I’d known this was going to be a fashion competition I wouldn’t have entered. . .” I muttered to myself.

  I was stuck now, so I made the best of things and put on the outfit. The silk of the skirt and shirt was smooth beneath my hands, and the white apron fit snug over the front of my waist. I looked at myself in the mirror and actually liked what I saw. The outfit was slimming without pressing against my waistline, and the frills made my thick arms look smaller. The buttons on the front of the blouse went up high enough to cover all but the tops of my breasts and showed off their curves. The simple colors complimented my light skin and dark hair.

  Now there was only to wait. I plopped myself onto the bed and entertained myself by swinging my legs. They were too short, and the bed too tall, to reach the floor. I faced the bedroom door and the minutes ticked by. With each passing minute every nerve inside of me grew more tense. My hands ringed the apron nearly to death. My ears strained to hear something.

  The knob on the door turned. I sat up and gulped. The door opened and revealed Mr. Barnett. His presence didn’t lesson my tension. I looked past him for any signs of his employer, but there was no one else. He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him before he turned to me. His warm, unrelenting eyes swept over me and I shuddered beneath such a strong gaze.

  John snatched a chair from the table and walked over. He dropped the chair two feet in front of where I sat and seated himself. I fidgeted and tried to pull the short skirt down further over my thick thighs.

  “Do you like this place?” he wondered.

  I jerked my head up and blinked at him. “Huh?” was my brilliant response.