Bought By The Billionaire
Chapter 7: Bought By The Billionaire - Chapter Seven
“What do you think?” Those blue, blue eyes stare into mine. At some level, I feel that I should be outraged. This man, who I only met earlier today, is offering me a position as his personal … what? Concubine? Mistress? Whore? Call girl?
But it doesn’t feel like that. I like him. And he seems to like me. And if I could concentrate on my studies instead of cleaning up rooms after some jerk has had too much booze and thrown up …
He is still silent, gazing steadily into my face.
I make up my mind. “When do I start?”
He nods and smiles, then looks at me and says, “When do I start, Master?”
Yes, of course. I cast my eyes down. “When do I start, Master?”
“Right now,” he says cheerfully, but then pauses. “Outside this apartment, a simple Sir will be sufficient I think.”
“Yes, Master. And what would you like me to do, Master? Right now?”
“I assume you can type? Yes? There’s a computer and printer in the office through there.” He points at another door. “You can start by writing a letter of resignation. After that, you can join me in the bedroom.”
I wake up in my dingy bedroom, and for a moment, I stare up in confusion at the ceiling, the events of the previous day swirling up inside me.
It seems unreal—fantastic but unreal. I shake my head. After meeting and having mind-blowing sex with a complete stranger, he offered me a job as his … his what? Courtesan? Call girl? And I accepted.
He said he owned the hotel. He said he owned a huge company. And I believed it all. Took it at face value.
My stomach churns. Things like this don’t happen to girls like me. Was I taken in by some con man, after a quick roll with the maid?
I wrote a letter last night, resigning my old, horrible job cleaning at the hotel.
resigned my job!
technically, I’m still working at the hotel, and due to start my shift again this
— from my foolish decision to use the stranger’s shower, to the mind-boggling sex, when he found me there, naked in
coffee and toast.
buzzes. “Delivery for Elizabeth
buzz back. “Just leave
“Sorry. Needs a signature.”
“Okay, I’m coming down.”
I have perhaps ordered something on the
dampness. In fact, he has two items for me, a letter and a package. Puzzled,
“Dear Miss Kimberley,
to inform you that your application for an internship with our company has been
report to
on, catching my breath as I do so at the stated salary, which is much, much more than I earn now in my miserable
the parcel. With slightly trembling fingers, I open it to find a skirt and jacket, blouses, and a pair of shoes, all very sensible and business-like, but beautifully made and expensive looking. I check the labels and take a deep breath. These designer brands
the gorgeous slinky fabric over my curves. Looking at myself in my cracked mirror, I have to admit, the outfit looks great, and not quite as sensible as I had first thought. The jacket is tightly tailored to my trim waist and large breasts.
Obviously, it is a gift from him, but how did he know my
new job. I gulp down my coffee. A little low-key makeup and my long red hair confined into an orderly bun, and I feel ready to take on the
*****
plate glass, I hand over the letter at the reception. The receptionist checks my name against a day book and directs me to the tenth floor, where I find a second
name
“Ah, yes, Miss Kimberley. Mr Haswell is
buzzes through on an intercom. “Mr Haswell,
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