Blindsided By The Billionaire (Carrington Brothers Book 1) Page 3

  “Right, I think we’re just about done. What about snacks? Do you snack during the day?” she asks, looking up at me in curiosity.

  “No, not really. I don’t have the time, if I’m honest.” She nods. “But feel free to grab anything you need.”

  “No, I’m good.” She smiles and leads me to the checkout. It’s a painful process; I’m not the most patient of people, but we get there in the end. We take the shopping out to the sports car in the car park and I load up the boot while she takes the trolley back. It’s oddly domestic and I’m surprised to find that it doesn’t bother me. The thought of doing anything domestic with any of my exes would have made me run in the opposite direction, but with Mia, it feels normal. She’s not your girlfriend, she’s your employee. You need to remember that.

  Chapter 9

  Mia

  After putting all of the shopping away, I fix Jackson and I a chicken and mayo roll. Grabbing the two cups of coffee I made, I carry his plate and the drinks to the dining room table where he is sitting, talking into his phone.

  “Yes, I understand, Paul. Send the proposals over and I’ll look over them tonight. We can discuss tomorrow when I’m in the office,” he says, nodding to me in thanks when I put his coffee and roll down in front of him.

  Putting my mug down, I go to grab my plate and wander back to the table, wondering if it’s ok for me to eat with him while he is working. He motions for me to sit and I obey, pulling out a chair and relaxing into it. I take a bite of my roll and try to hold back a moan. It’s a luxury to have something other than noodles for lunch.

  Hanging up the phone, Jackson says, “Sorry about that. Work never stops.”

  “No problem. It means business is good, so that’s good right?” I say, taking a sip of my coffee and looking up at him.

  “That’s true. I know I’m very fortunate. I may moan about the amount of work involved, but I do love my job,” he admits taking a bite of his roll and making a sound of pleasure. “I could definitely get used to this.”

  Laughing, I say, “I’m sure you could manage to make yourself a roll.”

  “I could, but I rarely make the time. I’m my own worst enemy,” he admits, taking a sip of his coffee and sighing in pleasure. “Before I forget, here’s the contract. Look it over before you sign it. It’s what we discussed. An annual salary for taking care of the place, cooking and doing the washing and ironing, and so on.”

  I nod and take the plain brown envelope from him. Pulling out the paper inside, I gasp. The number stands out straight away.

  “That’s ludicrous! You can’t possibly pay me that much,” I say to him, looking over at him in shock and disbelief.

  “It’s a pretty standard salary, Mia. I had my lawyer go over it. You’ll be working six days a week; I don’t think it is excessive,” he reassures me before taking another bite of his roll.

  I don’t know what to think. That amount of money is crazy to me, but this is his world. It probably is just a drop in the ocean to him. “Are you sure that’s ok? You’re not just trying to be nice?”

  He laughs. “I assure you, it is perfectly reasonable.”

  “Ok,” I nod. “Thank you, again.”

  “Thank you. Keep feeding me like this and you’ll end up getting a raise,” he jokes and I snort at his ridiculousness. It’s a roll for goodness sake. Just wait until I make him a cake.

  “It’s just a chicken roll, you lunatic!” I laugh, shaking my head and grabbing my coffee again.

  “It’s wonderful. And I appreciate it. So look over the contract tonight, if it is all acceptable then sign it and you can start tomorrow. I leave at seven in the morning so I usually have my breakfast and coffee at six thirty at the breakfast bar. Then I’ll be home for dinner at six in the evening. That sound ok?”

  “Yes, no problem at all.” I smile, excited to get started. I’ve always been a clean freak, so cleaning someone’s showroom style suite is a dream.

  “Perfect.”

  Chapter 10

  Mia

  Carrying two plates of spaghetti bolognaise to the table, I place one in front of Jackson, and the other where I’ll be sitting. Pulling out my chair, I slide in and smile at him. He’s wearing a white shirt that has the first two buttons undone, no tie or blazer tonight.

  “Bon appetite.” Smiling, I tuck into my own, enjoying the bold flavours that I taste.

  He groans in appreciation and nods. “Is there anything you can’t make?”

  Laughing, I say, “I’m sure there is. I take it you approve?”

  “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” He lifts another forkful up to his mouth and looks over at me, pausing in the motion. “How was your day?”

  “Fine. I popped to the shop, stripped the beds and remade them, and did some ironing. Saying it out loud doesn’t sound very impressive, but it took a while,” I say, sheepishly. I don’t want him to think I’m not taking this job seriously.

  Shaking his head, he says, “I know how hard you work. I told you, as long as the place is clean and tidy, and I’m fed, you’re free to do whatever you like with your time.”

  “Thank you,” I say for the thousandth time, but I truly can’t say it enough.

  He waves it off like it’s nothing and continues to devour his dinner. I take a sip of the cold glass of water I poured myself and look over at him.

  “So, tell me about you. Other than rescuing damsels in distress and owning the swankiest chain of hotels in the country, what else is there to know about Jackson Carrington?” I joke as I take another bite of my meal.

  He chuckles and reaches for his glass. Taking a long drink, he places the glass back down and leans back in his chair before answering. “There’s not much to tell. I have two younger brothers. Connor and Milo. My parents died in a car accident when I was twenty-one, so it’s just us.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, in earnest.

  He gives me a small smile, “Thank you, but it was a long time ago. Now it’s just the three of us and my niece, Hope. We’ve always been close, my brothers and I. They were eighteen and sixteen when we lost my parents, so I did my best to take care of everything for us. I’d studied business at university and decided to try my hand at real estate.”

  “Evidently you did pretty well with it,” I say, taking another bite and listening to him intently. It’s nice to see his face light up when he speaks of his family.

  Chuckling, he says, “Apparently so. My brothers were a big help. Milo owns a construction company and Connor is a great business manager. He helps me run the hotels. It’s truly a family business.”

  “That must be nice, working with your family.” I’m smiling, but I imagine it doesn’t reach my eyes as he looks over at me and tilts his head.

  “Do you not have any family?” he asks, giving me his full attention.

  Sighing I say, “No, it’s just me. I don’t remember my parents. I was put into foster care pretty young and bounced from home to home but never really fit in anywhere. As soon as I was old enough, I was on my own and I have been ever since.”

  “That must be tough,” he sympathises, taking another drink of his water.

  “It’s not so bad.” I give him a small smile. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had.”

  “True,” he agrees. “So tell me something about you. What’s your dream job?”

  “I always wanted to work at a bakery. Make cakes and pastries. Sounds silly I know, but I love cake and how happy it makes people. I enjoy making them so figured I should look at doing what makes me happy.”

  “It doesn’t sound silly at all. Why haven’t you pursued it?”

  “Money, time. The usual. When I left foster care, my main concern was getting an income and a roof over my head. There was never a good time or opportunity to go to school. But one day, maybe.” I give him a smile and go back to my meal.

  “It’s never too late to pursue your dreams,” he says and I smile at that. It’s a nice thought. But unfortunately, nothing is ever that
simple.

  Chapter 11

  Mia

  It’s been a week since I started my new job as Jackson’s housekeeper and it is going great. We have breakfast and dinner together and he tells me about his day. During the day, I tidy the suite, put the washing on, and do shopping when necessary.

  Jackson is easy to live with. He’s tidy, fun to be around, and never treats me as less than his equal. I’ve enjoyed getting to know him better. We talk about all sorts at mealtimes. Our hopes and dreams, our upbringings. He built his entire empire himself, with help from his brothers, had nothing handed to him, and I admire that. He’s a driven man who has never once forgotten where he came from, and I find that admirable.

  Cleaning the kitchen counter, now that the garlic bread is in the oven, I hear the door open and expect to see Jackson walk in. Except it isn’t Jackson.

  Judging by the little bit of internet snooping I did, I’d say this is his ex-girlfriend, Leanne. She sees me and scowls. Instantly, I dislike her.

  “Who the hell are you?” she barks at me, looking at me like I’m beneath her. With her long blonde hair and daringly short red dress, she stands in front of me staring at me in disgust.

  “I’m Mia, who are you?” I reply, trying to stay calm. I turn to check on the lasagne which is still in the oven. It’s smelling amazing if I do say so myself.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” she asks, outrage in her voice. She looks like she is about to have a strop and it’s almost comical. She taps one red heel against the tiled floor as she waits for my reply.

  “I live here,” I answer honestly, disliking her immensely.

  She laughs, a spiteful laugh that has me bristling, “You live here? Please.” Rolling her eyes, she looks me up and down.

  Before I can reply I see Jackson come in, he takes in the scene, looking shocked to find his ex standing in his home.

  “Leanne, what the hell are you doing here?” he asks, putting his briefcase down and looking at her in irritation. I’m secretly relieved that he doesn’t seem pleased to see her.

  “I came to see you. I’ve missed you. I thought we could get some dinner and talk,” she says, in a sickly-sweet voice that has me wanting to throw up in my mouth.

  Jackson looks both uncomfortable and annoyed. “You can’t just let yourself into my home. I thought you said you left me the key card. I’m going to need that back.”

  “You’re kidding, right? And who the hell is she? She thinks she lives here!” She laughs, her tone mocking, flicking her bleach blonde hair over her shoulder.

  “She does,” Jackson answers simply, walking over to the cupboard to get himself a glass.

  “What do you mean, she does? You can’t have another woman living with you, Jackson. I won’t allow it,” she says, hands on her hips, in full-on tantrum mode. Wow, this woman is something else.

  “Leanne, we broke up. I don’t care what you’ll allow. This is my home. You cannot barge in unannounced.” His patience is evidently wearing thin and you’d think she’d take the hint. But apparently, she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.

  She waves her hand dismissively, “Jackson, baby. We break up all the time. But we always sort it out.”

  “Not this time. I told you we were done, Leanne. I meant it,” he says calmly, filling his glass with filtered water from the fridge.

  “Are you screwing her?” she demands, incredulous. Her tone is so high I’m sure there are dogs with their ears pricking up. I’m torn between leaving them to their awkward quarrel or standing my ground, this is my home too after all.

  “Leanne! That’s enough. Do not make me call security. I want you to leave now. Mia and I are about to have dinner.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

  She looks flabbergasted, and I try really hard not to laugh. Serves her right, the stuck-up cow.

  I don’t know what possesses me to do it, other than sheer dislike of this woman, but I walk over to Jackson and slide my arm around his waist.

  “It’ll be ready in twenty minutes, baby,” I say, looking up at him with a sweet smile. He may be shocked but he catches on to my game pretty quickly, smiling down at me.

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says kissing my head and squeezing me into his side. I try to ignore how nice it feels to have his hands on me.

  Leanne looks like she’s swallowed something unpleasant and storms out of the suite, slamming the door as she goes.

  I giggle once she’s gone and move away from Jackson. Grabbing the oven gloves, I walk over to the oven and open the door. The food needs another five minutes, so I push it back inside and close the door again, dropping the gloves on the counter.

  “I’m sorry, I know that was immature and completely unprofessional, but she was so rude to me, I couldn’t help myself,” I say, as I grab myself a glass of water.

  “No need to apologise. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I had no idea she still had her key card. I’ll be having the lock reset tomorrow.” He sits at the breakfast bar and sips his water.

  “She seemed lovely.” I laugh, looking over my shoulder at him as I get a couple of plates out of the cupboard.

  Laughing, he says, “She’s an acquired taste.”

  “Uh huh, I’m sure,” I say, laughing. I get the lasagne out of the oven and start to dish up. Jackson comes over and grabs some cutlery from one of the drawers and goes to set the table. It feels oddly domestic, but not weird.

  Carrying the plates over to the table where he is sat, I place his down in front of him. His eyes light up. “This looks incredible.”

  I smile, “Thanks, it’s one of my favourites. Let me grab the garlic bread. Did you want a drink of anything?”

  “A beer would be great, thanks,” he says, grabbing the pepper and adding a sprinkle to the top of his plate.

  Walking over to the fridge, I grab him a bottle of beer, pick up the plate of garlic bread and head back to the table.

  “You don’t need to wait, dig in!” I say, handing him his beer before sitting down and putting the garlic bread between us. I don’t need to tell him twice. He dives right in with a smile on his face and it makes me grin. It’s nice to feel appreciated.

  Hearing him groan, I laugh, shaking my head. “It’s just lasagne.”

  “It’s like heaven in my mouth!” he says, eagerly shovelling another forkful into his mouth. I smile, loving that he is enjoying it that much. Taking a bite of my own, I sigh in happiness. It’s been too long since I’ve made this, preferring to spend my money on cheaper, quicker meals while living at the motel.

  “So how was your day? Ignoring the Ex-Asaurus-Rex,” I ask and he snorts.

  “Ex-Asaurus-Rex?” He grins in amusement, looking over at me.

  “No offence but she seemed like a bit of a dinosaur. You know, grumpy and not good with people,” I offer before taking another bite of my garlic bread. He’s not wrong; it is good!

  Laughing again, he says, “My day was good. I got plenty done and agreed on a price for a piece of land I want to develop a hotel on.”

  “Fancy. And here’s me thinking that making homemade coffee and walnut cake was an achievement.” I joke, grabbing some more garlic bread.

  “You made coffee and walnut cake?” he asks, his head perking up at the thought.

  “Yep. An after-dinner treat.” I smile.

  “I love cake,” he says, through a mouthful of lasagne.

  “I should hope so! I try not to associate myself with people who don’t appreciate cake and it’s many benefits,” I say, smiling.

  “Benefits?” he asks, looking up at me with laughter in his eyes. I like this playful side of him. He’s fun to be around.

  “Yeah, it’s good for your soul. Good for your energy levels. Good for your libido.”

  Choking on a piece of garlic bread, he laughs. “Your libido?”

  “Yep. You’re telling me that you haven’t eaten cake after sex and wanted to go again?” I ask, straight faced. I love cake. Not sure if that’s comin
g across, but I do.

  Laughing, he leans back in his chair, and I look at him and smile. He really is a good-looking man. Add in that deep, rumble of a laugh and if he were a cake, I’d devour him in one sitting.

  “I’ve never heard that before,” he says, once he finishes chuckling. Reaching for his beer, he takes a swig.

  “You’ve never had cake after sex?” I ask, scandalised by this new information. The poor man hasn’t lived.

  “Can’t say I have.” He laughs, looking at me. “But now I think I need to give it a try.”

  Not sure whether it is all this talk about cake, or the sexy glint in his eye, but I can feel arousal pulsing through my body. Smiling, I get back to eating my lasagne. Flirting with my boss is a very bad idea.

  Chapter 12

  Jackson

  It’s been another manic day. I’ve been in and out of meetings all day and I’m now at a work function, mingling with other businessmen. Paul insisted it would be beneficial for the company, so here I am.

  Drinking the rest of my brandy, I turn and make my way across the room, looking for the restroom. Halfway across the vast space, I hear, “Ah, Jackson! I hoped I would find you here.”

  Turning, I see Malcolm Spencer. He’s a partner at the law firm we use for our company. I smile and shake his hand. He’s a good man and I have a lot of respect for him and the work he does.

  “Always good to see you Malcolm. How is Evelyn?” I ask, smiling at my fond memories of his sweet wife.

  “She’s well, thank you. She’s hosting a summer fundraiser next week, and we would love for you to come.” He smiles, I really do like this guy. He’s a hard-worker and has the time of day for everyone.