One Maid (Breaking Bounds #6)

1. Maggie

1

Maggie

Starting a new job for the fourth time in three years feels like a bad omen. But I need to save money and to do that, I need a job . Cleaning houses isn’t part of my dream in life but my best friend Sara handed me this gig on a silver platter, and you know what they say about beggars and choosers…

I don’t know what’s expected of me or what kind of man I’m going to work for, at least not really. Sara says he’s rich and gorgeous and needs someone to clean his house. Seems too good to be true. But if it’s that simple and straightforward, I’ll be able to save money in no time at all.

The final bus on my journey stops and I step off, looking left and right as the bus departs. I glance down the street and consult the map app on my phone. It’s a straight walk but it’s going to take some time so I call my bestie.

“Do you know what time it is?” Sara growls into the phone.

“I sure do. But remind me why I ever listen to you?” I joke, somewhat serious though. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into.

“The job is legit, I swear. I mean, I would’ve taken it myself considering I’d love to get up close and personal with Mr. Banks. Did I mention he was super hot and incredibly rich?”

“You did,” I answer with a smile as I walk along the street towards my final destination.

“Right, but Dad won’t fund my gap year if I don’t spend the summer with Aunt Sabrina and help her recover from the face lift we’re pretending is nothing more than a mole removal.” Sara groans. “You’ll love the job, I swear. Dad always speaks highly of Mr. Banks.”

I roll my eyes at that. “Your father speaks highly of people with a high net worth and the right connections. That says nothing of his character,” I remind her.

“ Hello , did you forget the hot and rich part?”

I laugh. “I’m glad the man paying me has money as that means my salary will clear every week, and everything else is irrelevant.”

“Ugh,” she sighs. “You’re no fun Maggie. Live a little. Flirt with a billionaire and steal a pair of his boxers!”

“Ew, why would I do that?!”

“To see what billionaire junk smells like? I don’t know,” Sara laughs, entertaining her own self. “Just clean the house, show off those great tits and see what happens!”

“Even though you’re annoying right now, I’m going to miss you this summer.”

“Same, babe. At least you have a nice view and maybe you can lose your virginity. To a billionaire ,” she sings the last part.

“Not happening.”

“You never know,” Sara shoots back. “Look, it’s a great paying gig in a beautiful home. Clean the house, make the money and lose your V-card. Trust me.”

“Famous last words,” I mumble. “I’m…oh shit, I’m here.” I end the call as my mouth goes dry at the sight of the mansion before me.

This place isn’t just a mansion. Oh no , it’s an estate complete with a ten-foot-tall iron gate, manned security office, walking gardens and who knows what else beyond the giant trees and manicured bushes. It’s gorgeous but it’s also so over the top that I’m not sure I belong here, not even to clean the place.

“May I help you?” The deep voice startles me and I look around to find the source. “Ma’am?”

A little black box to my left is the source and I press a small black button. “Hi, um, I’m Maggie. I’m supposed to report here at eight o’clock for my shift. I’m the new house maid.”

The man says nothing but a second later the gate slowly slides open to reveal a large man with muscles for days. He’s standing beside a golf cart. “Hop in. I’ll take you to the main house.”

The main house? As in, there are other houses on this property? Yep, I’m definitely out of my league. It’s a good thing I’m just here to clean. “Thank you for the ride.”

“No problem. Good luck.”

I take a deep breath and raise my fist to knock just as the front door opens and a gorgeous man in his forties appears. Even with a scowl on his face, he’s magnificent to look at with thick chestnut hair that’s slightly graying at the temples, powerful blue eyes and the kind of jaw that can cut glass. Sara definitely undersold me on the guy and his wealth judging by this estate. “Hello, I’m?—”

“You’re late,” he cuts me short, standing back to wave me inside.

“I was here on time,” I mutter with more snark than is probably smart to use with my new boss. “I just didn’t realize it was a ten minute walk to the front door. I apologize.” The words are snippy and I don’t dare look back at his handsome face for a reaction.

He’s silent behind me and I’m sure it’s one of those rich folks’ power move to get me to look at him, but I can’t. He’s so handsome it’s making me nervous and being inside here makes me feel even poorer than I am. “Maggie.”

I take a deep breath and turn around. “Yes, Mr. Banks?” At least he knows my name.

“Follow me.”

“Right.” I have no idea where I’m going. I try really hard not to stare at his ass but since when do forty-year-old men have asses so tight you can bounce a quarter off it? Why is his button-up shirt clinging to his back muscles? Why does he have back muscles when he builds luxury resorts?

My head is spinning.

“Are you even listening to me?” Mr. Banks halts abruptly and I stop one step shy of running right into his mighty fine backside.

No.

“Y-Yes, of course. You want your bedroom and bathroom cleaned daily, but after ten o’clock. Fresh bedding three times a week and all of your laundry put away. Understood.” I flash what I hope is a smile and not a terrifying grimace.

His strong jaw clenches and his nostrils flare as if he’s angry with me, which can’t bode well. Now that I’m here, I want this job. No, I need this job. And if I can last at least six months, I’ll have enough saved up to figure out what I want to do with my life. After that, mom says I have to start paying rent so either way I’ll need money in the bank.

“So, I’ll be cleaning the entire house. Will I need to prepare your meals as well?”

He levels with me with those stunning eyes which are multiple shades of blue, starting with almost a sapphire shade at the iris and growing darker as it fans out. “I have a chef.”

I ignore his condescending tone and bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay, got it.”

“Wait here,” he orders and stomps off, leaving me standing in a random hallway.

Six months. I only have to make it six months. It’s what I keep telling myself over and over as I wait to see if I still have the job.