Maid Read online

  Maid

  Jenna Rose

  Copyright © 2019 by Jenna Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Also by Jenna Rose

  MUSE

  DOLL

  TEACHER’S PET

  Contents

  1. Alden

  2. Belle

  3. Belle

  4. Alden

  5. Belle

  6. Alden

  7. Belle

  8. Belle

  9. Belle

  10. Alden

  11. Belle

  12. Belle

  13. Belle

  14. Alden

  Epilogue

  Also by Jenna Rose

  Chapter One

  Alden

  I don’t do sugar babies. Sorry, not this guy. A sugar daddy I am not, and it’s becoming quite clear that all these girls are looking for is a rich guy to take care of them.

  But I’m not looking for that. I’m looking for a real, honest-to-goodness housekeeper to replace Carla the Thief.

  People steal from me all the time and I get it. A guy as wealthy as me, with as many employees as me, always does. Whether it’s lying about their hours, trying to overcharge me, or just straight up taking merchandise from one of my businesses, it always happens. It’s inevitable.

  I tolerate it because I have to. It’s impossible to ferret out all the little hands reaching into my pockets, but if there’s one place I will not tolerate that kind of behavior, it’s in my home.

  So when I caught Carla, my housecleaner for eighteen months, stuffing my ex-wife’s diamonds into her purse one evening when I came home early, I was furious. Not only did I fire her right there on the spot, but I also called the cops and had her thrown in jail.

  And before you start feeling sorry for Carla, don’t.

  This wasn’t some down-on-her-luck gal who took a job to provide for her two-year-old son; this was a spoiled college girl who never studied, even when her parents paid for her tuition, who just took the job to make some extra side cash to blow on what I later learned was her drug habit.

  She thought it would be an easy gig, but when she realized she actually had to clean and not just bounce around in a skimpy outfit from Forever 21…well, I guess she figured she’d just straight up steal from me.

  And it was for that reason that I, Alden McLaren, thirty-five-year-old CEO of McLaren Enterprises, one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors, was sitting in my Hamptons home personally interviewing candidates to be Carla’s replacement as my new maid.

  “Sure, I can clean,” a buxom blonde told me as she leaned forward to show off her enormous fake breasts. “But I can also get real dirty.”

  Next.

  “I’m really good with the stick,” a starry-eyed redhead winked. “A broomstick I mean, of course!”

  Next…

  “I love using a sponge,” a brunette who was clearly proud of her assets said as she did a circle around my living room. “You know…washing cars in my bikini—or underwear—getting the suds all over me…”

  “Thanks,” I groaned. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Just let me know, babe!” she said, blowing me a kiss before heading out the door, making sure to shake her hips as she went.

  Babe…yeah, right.

  I groaned and leaned back in my Eames chair and thumbed the buzzer for Heather, my assistant, who was in the foyer letting the girls in.

  “Any more?” I asked.

  “Just one,” she replied. “Should I send her in?”

  “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

  What a night, I thought. I could have been at a show, a celebrity party or a movie premiere, or cruising the town looking for a girl.

  After my ex-wife and I split, I went a little wild with the women, but that got old fast. One-night stands just can’t compare to a good woman at your side—one that you can wake up next to every morning and feel like the luckiest man in the world.

  And that’s what I was looking for.

  Instead, I was here at home with a bunch of gold diggers and sugar babies just looking for an easy paycheck.

  My hopes were far from high as the door opened and the last girl stepped inside, but when I saw her, I just about fell out of my chair.

  I saw her silhouette first, swaying like Jessica Rabbit as she entered, and when she stepped into the light, my jaw dropped.

  Holy shit…

  I sniffed the air, waiting for a rush of cheap stripper perfume to wash over me, but instead was greeted with the soft scent of orange blossom. It was barely there too, just a hint, nothing overpowering.

  Like I was back in high school, I instantly started to bone up. I couldn’t believe it. No woman, no matter how hot she was—be it model or actress—had managed to get my dick to move just by looking at her. But this goddess had my cock pulsing with blood and my body aching the second I lay eyes on her. Her presence shook me down to my core.

  I may have been ready to go to sleep, but now I was wide awake.

  “Hi, my name is Belle Blanche,” she said.

  Her voice was firm and strong, filled with authority like a girl who made her own way—a complete contrast to the girls I’d seen so far. She walked right up to me and stretched out her hand.

  I took it immediately and shook it, felt the confident grip and thought instantly what it would feel like wrapped around my cock, which was already about to explode.

  “Alden,” I replied. “Alden McLaren.”

  “I know who you are,” she said with a small smile.

  Jesus…I thought. Look at her eyes.

  They were brilliant and green like sparkling emeralds. They were fierce, the perfect topping to her unbelievable body.

  Unlike the other candidates, Belle was dressed professionally in a pair of black pants and an off-white blouse with a small golden necklace that hung between the tiny amount of cleavage she was willing to share (which compared to the other girls was basically none).

  Instantly, I started picturing her stripping down in front of me, what she’d look like in a set of designer lingerie I’d pick up for her downtown…

  …what she’d look like naked.

  “I understand you’re looking for a housekeeper?” she asked as she took a seat in front of me without being asked. Her voice was sweet and made me wonder what she’d sound like gasping my name while I split her in half with my cock.

  It actually took me a second to respond, as I was too caught up in her beauty to think. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she was a model, and if we got dressed up for the town, she could easily pass for one in any of the hottest clubs in the city.

  Her hair was a warm chestnut and sparkled under the lights, and her lush pouty lips had my mouth watering like a man dying of thirst in the Sahara Desert. Her blouse was loose and obviously designed to be professional, to hide her curves, but it was completely failing in that regard; I could just tell she had some perky tits under there.

  And no matter how professional her pants were supposed to be, they couldn’t hide those hips and that ass. Instantly I was picturing her bent over every surface in my house: my desk, the couch, the counter, the dining room table, the pool table downstairs.

  The thought of fucking one of those other girls who was practically throwing themselves at me just didn’t excite me—not anymore. But the thought of taking this professional beauty and turning her into my dirty little slut? Yeah…that had my dick on high alert.

  “Mr. McLaren?” she asked, shaking me from my daydream.

  “Yes, sorry,” I replie
d. “Yes, I need a maid.”

  “A housekeeper,” she replied.

  “Sure,” I smiled. This girl took no shit and I liked it. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.”

  “That’s okay,” she said. “It takes a lot more than that to offend me.”

  She reached into her slim black satchel and pulled out a resume and handed it to me.

  “Wow, a paper resume?” I asked as I took it. “Old fashioned.”

  “Well, I’m an old-fashioned kind of gal,” she replied.

  So, anal’s out of the question? I smiled and kept the joke to myself.

  I set the resume aside without looking and saw a slight flicker of irritation in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything.

  “So, you have some housekeeping experience then?” I asked.

  “It’s all there in my resume—”

  “I’d like to hear it from you,” I interrupted. “If I wanted to just read a resume, I wouldn’t bother having you in.”

  “Okay, I can understand that,” she nodded. “Well, I used to have my own housekeeping business, and now—”

  “Used to?” I asked suspiciously.

  Please don’t let her be a bullshitter looking for a sugar daddy.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Life’s complicated,” I retorted. “Tell me about it.”

  Belle sighed and arched her back which gave me a better idea of what she had under that blouse. My cock twitched again between my thighs and I resituated myself in an attempt to keep my bulge from being too obvious. But the pressure was growing, as was my desire for her.

  “Let’s just say I was the victim of a very evil competitor,” she said. “So, now I’m working to build up what was taken from me.”

  I had to laugh. “You know, I completely understand that,” I told her. “If I had to count the number of times somebody has fucked me over…well, let’s just say we’d be here a while.”

  Belle smiled back at me and shifted in her chair. There was something intriguing about her. Where did this confidence come from? It was rare to even meet men who were so sure of themselves, and it honestly had me almost as excited as her beautiful body did.

  Does she have a man?

  The thought angered me and my hands tightened on the arms of my chair.

  “So what about your personal life?” I asked. “Married? Kids?”

  Belle gave me a strange look. “Why does that matter? This is a housekeeping position, right?”

  “Of course,” I smiled. “I’ve been turning down sugar babies all evening. I just want to know what your availability will be should I need you. If you have kids, husband, a complicated life, that could conflict with your schedule—”

  “I’m single,” she replied.

  Not for long.

  My beauty stirred and got to her feet.

  “Whenever you need me, Mr. McLaren,” she said.

  Damn right, I thought as my dick swelled to its full size. “You have my resume and my contact information, if you would like to discuss this further with me—”

  She opened the door but I was on my feet and at her side in a flash. I pressed it shut and stared into her gorgeous green eyes.

  “Where are you going?” I asked her. She opened her mouth to speak but only a soft sigh came out. “We barely got started.”

  “Mr. McLaren—”

  “Call me Alden, please,” I told her. “Mr. McLaren was my father.”

  I leaned closer to her, close enough to smell her sweetness and feel the heat from her body. It took every ounce of my strength to not snatch her into my arms. I wondered if she could see the bulge in my pants so she would know what she was doing to me.

  She actually leaned in closer and her gaze moved from my eyes to my lips.

  “I want you,” I told her. Her eyes widened. “When can you start?”

  “You…you want me?” she whispered. “For your housekeeper or for…something else?”

  “Why can’t it be both?” I asked.

  I leaned in and kissed her and when our lips met, I almost lost control. My hands found her hips, and as I was about to pull her closer to me, she actually leaned in and pressed her body against mine.

  I was right…I thought as I felt her breasts against my chest. They were big, soft but firm at the same time, and I knew then that this girl was mine. She had to be. I could never let her slip away from me.

  But just as I began to pull her closer, she broke our embrace and leapt back and put a hand over her lips like I’d shocked her.

  “I—I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “That was very unprofessional of me.”

  “Don’t be silly, Belle—”

  “No, I—I should go,” she stammered.

  And before I could protest again, she snatched the door open and rushed out of the room, straight through the foyer and out the front door into the night.

  Heather looked at me from her desk.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. “Should I call the police?”

  “No,” I said. “Everything’s fine.”

  But I was lying; everything was not fine.

  Belle had come crashing into my life like a meteor and left just as quickly. But I wasn’t about to let that be the end of things—no way.

  I was Alden McLaren and I didn’t get to where I was by not going after the things that I wanted.

  And now I wanted Belle, and she was going to be mine.

  Chapter Two

  Belle

  My heart was racing all the way back to my apartment.

  What just happened?! I thought as I went around the block one more time while I tried to get my mind straight.

  Had I just kissed Alden McLaren at my fucking job interview!?

  Yes, Belle, I thought with dismay. Yes, you did.

  “Fuck!”

  Maybe it’s because he’s unhappily married, or maybe he’s single, or maybe he’s just an asshole looking to cheat with the maid. Either way, I was used to it but I never, ever gave in.

  I was a professional twenty-two-year-old who’d built her entire life up on her own. I lost my parents when I was fourteen and fought hard to get where I was. Housekeeping was my business—or at least it had been until Melissa ran her smear campaign against me and got me basically blacklisted from all of Long Island.

  And what did she say I did? Exactly what I swore I would never do; she said I was sleeping with my clients. She said I was an escort.

  Melissa was my competitor, of course, and she found a couple of guy friends to go along with her story—men who I’d worked for at one point in time—and before I knew it, my reputation was destroyed.

  Messages were flying all over social media accusing me of taking money for sex, stealing women’s husbands and even using my business as a front for a state-wide prostitution ring!

  It was absolutely insane, but people bought it. I was finished.

  Melissa took all of my clients and I’d been scrambling for the last two months trying to make ends meet.

  My bank account, like my fuel gauge in my car, was all but empty, and my roommate, Sara, was moving out soon, leaving me to pay for the entire house on my own. If I didn’t find work soon, I’d been in big trouble.

  I was supposed to be building myself up from the ground up, finding work and getting my shit together. And so what had I ended up doing?

  Kissing Alden McLaren…

  “What were you thinking, Belle?” I groaned.

  I don’t know what made me angrier; the fact that I’d kissed him or the fact that I knew why I had done it but was still trying to convince myself that it had just been a silly mistake.

  No, it wasn’t just a silly mistake; it was something much more than that; it was a problem.

  Alden McLaren had me completely off balance.

  Not only was he incredibly intimidating, as his reputation as a playboy preceded him, but he was very, very, very gorgeous—the kind of gorgeous that would get him tons of girls without being absurdly rich like he was.
<
br />   He was clearly older than I was, which made it even hotter, a killer jaw and a head of model-esque slicked back dark brown hair, and despite the semi-formal pants and shirt he’d been wearing, I could tell he had a physique that belonged on a magazine cover.

  My body had started responding the minute I’d seen him.

  I had done a good job at not letting on (I think), but obviously had given something away if he’d moved in on me like that. I couldn’t have been giving him the impression that I was looking for an arrangement, could I?

  I dressed professionally, brought a resume, shook his hand and presented myself like the professional woman that I am, but still he’d made a move on me at the door. And even worse, I’d given into it!

  And even worse than that, if he had grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me back into the room, there’s no doubt in my mind that I would have let him bend me over that big, expensive, wooden desk of his that only billionaires have and fuck my brains out.

  “Shit,” I grumbled as I pulled into the driveway. This was a really tough situation. On one hand, I desperately needed the job—we hadn’t even discussed pay, but unless he was a real asshole, it would be great—but on the other hand, he was gorgeous and I wanted him. And in my line of work, those two things didn’t mix, especially after what I’d been falsely accused of.

  I glanced at my nearly empty fuel gauge as I shut off the car, took my satchel and headed into the house to find Sara sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine.

  “Pour me one of those,” I told her. “I need it.”

  “Bad interview?” she asked as she handed me a glass. I downed the entire thing in a single gulp. Sara chuckled.

  “Not quite,” I corrected her.

  “What does that mean?” she asked. “Wait a minute…was this the Alden McLaren interview?”