Sweet Promotion.

chapter 3

“Follow me,” she instructed. “I’ll show you the house.”

Samantha blinked, confused. Normally, this was done after being hired, not before. Still, something in Janet’s authority silenced any question she might have had. She nodded and stood, following her through the wide hallways of the mansion. She trailed behind Janet’s elegant steps, the sway of her hips was hypnotic.

“Here we have staff bedrooms,” Janet began, opening the door to a side corridor. “Five rooms for the gardeners, the drivers, and maintenance. Each has their own space, comfortable but functional.”

Samantha listened intently, trying not to miss any detail, though she was captivated by Janet’s flawless skin, so smooth, without a trace of wrinkles. Every movement radiated such confidence and power that it intimidated her.

Janet paused for a moment, noticing Samantha’s state, and their eyes met. An electric exchange far too intense for a first encounter.

“And here,” Janet continued, “are the cars. They must always be clean and ready. The house, as you can see, is large, and keeping it in order requires an efficient team. I also have three maids.”

Samantha dared to look up, intrigued.

“And will my work be the same as theirs?” she asked cautiously.

Janet stopped, turning toward her with a measured smile, almost playful, yet elegant.

“No, Samantha,” she said. “Your work will be specifically for me. I need someone I can fully trust. You’ll handle everything that has to do with me. Washing my clothes, preparing my meals, organizing my office, my library… every detail.”

Samantha swallowed hard, feeling both flattered and overwhelmed.

“Then what are the other maids for?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Janet laughed softly, a melodious, elegant laugh that filled the hallway. She found it adorable. She walked a few more steps and leaned gracefully against the staircase railing.

“They take care of the guest rooms, and the place,” she explained, as if it were the most natural thing. “But as I mentioned, I need someone personal. Someone I can trust with my belongings and my spaces… my secrets. At my age, I’m paranoid and don’t trust anyone anymore.”

Samantha stayed silent, sensing both authority and vulnerability in her. Janet wasn’t just an employer; she was someone who demanded absolute loyalty.

“So… everything you need will be my responsibility,” Samantha said, almost repeating the words to herself, trying to grasp the weight of it.

“Exactly,” Janet replied, her tender smile feeling both like praise and flirtation. “I trust you’ll be careful and discreet.”

They moved into a sunlit hall with a panoramic view of the gardens. Janet paused by a window, staring outside as if she could judge her staff’s loyalty from a distance.

“You’ll spend a lot of time here, Samantha,” she said. “And I expect you to take every detail seriously.”

Samantha nodded, a shiver running down her spine. There was something in Janet’s tone, in her certainty, that made her realize this job was far more than domestic tasks. Or maybe she was already fantasizing.

“I understand,” she whispered. “I’ll do my best.”

Janet smiled again, this time less calculated, more genuine, almost maternal, though still tinged with playful tension that kept Samantha on edge.

“That pleases me,” Janet said, her smile gauging every reaction. “Now tell me, why do you need the job?”

Samantha swallowed, her hands trembling slightly.

“Well…” she began, her voice trembling. “A month ago, I had an accident with my boyfriend. Our apartment caught fire and… we lost everything. Laptops, fridge, TV, clothes, couch… everything we’d worked on for over three years. We’d gotten that apartment cheap, thought it was perfect to settle into, just as we were finishing university. We had so many plans… but they vanished overnight. Now we live in a studio apartment with just a mattress and a borrowed electric stove. We’re starting from zero… and, as you know, money is essential.”

Janet listened in silence, her head slightly tilted, weighing every word, every pause. Her expression was serene, almost maternal, but her eyes made it clear she tolerated neither lies nor hesitation.

“I see,” she finally said, firm. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” Samantha replied, glancing down briefly.

“You’re young,” Janet affirmed. “Good. You start today.”

Samantha blinked, stunned.

“Today? But… I don’t know what… I have to—”

“Do you want the job or not?” Janet interrupted, her tone leaving no room for doubt. Her natural elegance clashed with her commanding voice, sending a chill down Samantha’s spine.

“Of course,” Samantha said, determined, though inside she felt like a trembling chick in the rain.

Janet smiled, this time like a compliment disguised as a tease.

“Good. First, you’ll come with me to buy your outfit. Then we’ll return and you’ll prepare dinner.” She paused, weighing each word. “Do you know how to cook?”

Samantha hesitated under the pressure.

“Uhm…”

“It doesn’t matter much,” Janet said lightly, with a soft laugh. “You’ll have help. Later, you’ll prepare my bed and bring me lemon tea at exactly ten o’clock—not a minute earlier or later. I like the water boiling. Be careful not to burn yourself when you bring it.”

Samantha nodded, knowing every instruction carried weight, every detail mattered, and any mistake would be noticed.

“Alright,” she whispered.

Janet gave her one last look, both assessing and gentle, before moving toward the door with her innate elegance.

“Now follow me,” she said. “We’re going shopping.”

Samantha followed her down the hallway, her footsteps echoing on the marble, her mind swirling with images. The gardens, the rooms, the perfection of every detail in the mansion… and above all, Janet’s magnetic presence that seemed to shrink her and yet pull her in, making her both small and curious about what lay ahead.

They waited by the fountain. Janet stared ahead behind her sunglasses, while Samantha couldn’t take her eyes off her. She traced her gaze up and down, trying to memorize every detail, every gesture. It was like staring at a deep crimson color, impossible to ignore, almost painfully alluring.

Of course, Janet noticed. She turned slightly, lowered her glasses, gave Samantha a measured smile, then looked forward again. Trapped, Samantha looked away, blushing, her heart pounding too fast.

“Do you know who I am, Samantha?” Janet asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Y-you’re… a model,” she stammered.

“A model,” Janet chuckled to herself. “And what else do you know?”

Samantha thought about inventing something, but lying felt risky. It could ruin everything too soon.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “I’m from a small town… but I heard you were Miss Universe twice.”

Janet raised a brow, amused.

“Mhm. Don’t you use social media?”

“Uhm… I have f*******:, but I don’t use it much.”

“I see,” Janet said, breathing in the fresh air around them. “At your age, I was a Victoria’s Secret model. I won my first beauty pageant very young, another at thirty-two, and then I retired because, well… the competition hated me too much, and I had no patience for the press.”

“Yeah… I never liked show business,” Samantha commented.

“Famous people in general?” Janet asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Ah… no, I mean… you know, gossip and all that.”

“I see,” Janet nodded, with that smile that seemed to hide a thousand secrets.

The driver pulled up, opening the door for Janet. Samantha nearly had to jog to keep up, sliding in beside her. Once inside, Janet studied her with curiosity and gave another elegant smile.

“What’s your size?” she asked, as if it were the most natural question.

Samantha hesitated, still surprised by the directness. “I… I’m not sure… maybe medium, I think.”

Janet nodded quickly, assessing her with the expert eye of someone used to perfection and detail.

“Perfect,” she said. “We’ll make sure everything fits you flawlessly.”

Samantha swallowed, every gesture, every word from Janet making her world shrink and expand at the same time. She was facing someone who combined authority, beauty, and an aura that left her breathless.

At the store, the receptionist greeted Janet as if she were royalty. Behind her, Samantha followed, eyes down, cheeks flushed, feeling almost invisible.

“No fashion this time?” the receptionist, Sheryl, joked lightly.

Janet didn’t smile, but answered calmly and elegantly.

“Nothing you can’t fix.”

Samantha felt even more like a doll being moved around but stayed silent. Everything felt like a performance, and she was merely an accessory. She trailed behind Janet nervously until they reached the fitting rooms.

Instead of measuring Samantha herself, the stylist handed the measuring tape to Janet.

With a smoothness bordering on provocative, Janet stepped close. Every movement was deliberate. Her perfume, her nearness, the way she lingered with the tape, taking her time.

She brushed Samantha’s waist as she adjusted the tape, pausing to meet her gaze through the mirror. Samantha froze, a shiver running down her spine.

Then Janet slid the tape upward, measuring across her chest with the same deliberate slowness, almost teasing.

“Raise your arms,” she said in that captivating voice near Samantha’s ear.

Samantha obeyed instantly, her body reacting involuntarily. She blushed, acutely aware of the faint arousal the touches provoked, though they remained professional. She tried to hide it, holding her breath.

Janet, sensing the reaction, only smiled faintly and carried on, every touch a subtle test of control, leaving Samantha caught between fascination, confusion, and shame.

When she finished, Janet gave the numbers to Sheryl with calm precision.

“Waist… 64. Hips… 90. Bust… 82,” she recited, while Sheryl carefully wrote them down.

“I want a loose black skirt with a waistband and buckle,” Janet continued, without breaking her gaze from Samantha. “A lace corset, fitted, with plain straps on the shoulders. A choker with a heart-shaped buckle. Sheer knee-high stockings, black lace trim, and dress shoes.”

Sheryl raised a brow, jotting it all down.

“Would you like us to add a hat?” she asked curiously.

Janet turned slowly, locking eyes with Samantha for a moment, her green gaze sharp, evaluating every reaction. Then she looked back at Sheryl and replied calmly but firmly.

“No. Make it a black headband.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Sheryl nodded. “It will all be ready in an hour.”

“Good,” Janet said, casting Samantha one last calculated look before heading toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

Samantha, caught between admiration and nerves, could barely move her eyes. Every order, every pause, every glance reminded her she was completely under Janet’s influence, pulled between respect, fear, and an attraction she couldn’t deny.

“Where are we going now?” Samantha asked, still trying to process everything that had happened since she arrived at the mansion.

“We’re going to the salon,” Janet replied smoothly.

“What?” Samantha frowned, surprised.

Janet laughed, a charming laugh that made Samantha blush.

“Relax, they’ll just wash your hair and do your makeup,” Janet said, her voice a perfect blend of authority and sweetness.

Samantha wasn’t really shocked. She’d noticed all the other employees looked perfect. She assumed she’d have to as well, but she hadn’t expected it so soon.

“While we go, we can talk about payment,” Janet added, turning slightly toward her. “How much do you ask for?”

“W—what… how much?” Samantha stammered.

“Yes. You’ll work eight hours every day. Think of an hourly rate, and we’ll add it up; that’ll be your pay.”

“Well… uhm…” Samantha hesitated, unsure.

Janet laughed softly but firmly.

“Let’s do this,” she said, leaning closer, locking eyes with her. “I’ll tell you the amount, and if you feel exploited… you’ll tell me, and I’ll raise your pay.”

“O-okay,” Samantha said, swallowing hard.

“Let’s make it… $60 an hour,” Janet went on. “That’s $480 a day. I can pay you weekly—that’s $480 × 5 = $2,400 a week—or monthly, which would be about $9,600 a month. Which do you prefer?”

Samantha blinked several times, swallowing. At her last job, she’d barely earned $400 a week. This was almost triple. Clara had been right. This woman was generous in ways she couldn’t comprehend.

“Weekly… that’s fine,” she finally answered.

“Perfect,” Janet said, smiling faintly. “Then it’s settled.”

Samantha shivered with both excitement and nerves. She was beginning to understand that working for Janet meant far more than an incredible salary—it meant stepping into a world where everything was controlled.