THE BILLIONAIRE’S HOUSEKEEPER

Rain turned Manhattan into a mirror. Aria Vale hurried down Fifth Avenue with one hand clutching the strap of her worn handbag and the other gripping a paper cup of coffee that had gone cold nearly an hour ago. She was late. Again. Not because she didn’t care about her job. Aria cared too much. She had spent the previous night cleaning offices until nearly two in the morning, slept for three hours, then worked the breakfast shift at the café where she waitress six days a week. Her feet hurt. Her shoulders ached. And somewhere in the back of her mind, an unpaid medical bill was screaming her name. She crossed the sidewalk without looking up. That was her first mistake. The second was walking directly into Damian Cross. The impact sent her coffee flying. Straight onto the immaculate black suit of the most intimidating man she’d ever seen. Aria froze. He froze. Brown liquid dripped slowly from the lapel of his thousand-dollar jacket. “Oh my God.” The man looked down at his suit. Then at her. Aria’s stomach dropped. He was devastating. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair perfectly styled despite the rain. A sharp jaw, unreadable gray eyes, and a presence so commanding that people seemed to instinctively move out of his way. She knew that face. Everyone in New York knew that face. Damian Cross. Billionaire. CEO. Real-estate magnate. The man whose name appeared on magazine covers almost every month. And she had just baptized him in cheap coffee. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. His eyes remained fixed on hers. “You should be.” Aria blinked. Then something inside her snapped. “I said I was sorry.” His eyebrow lifted. Most people probably didn’t speak to Damian Cross that way. Aria didn’t have the luxury of being intimidated by rich men. She had rent due. Bills due. A broken heater. And exactly twelve dollars in her checking account. “I didn’t do it deliberately.” “I assumed that.” “Good.” His gaze traveled briefly over her. Not in the way she’d expected. Not dismissively. He seemed to notice everything. The damp strands of hair sticking to her cheek. The faded coat. The cheap shoes soaked through from the rain. Then his eyes returned to hers. “You’re late for something.” Aria frowned. “How do you know?” “You keep looking at your phone.” She glanced down. 8:17. “Oh no.” She stepped around him. “Again, I’m sorry.” “Wait.” She stopped. Damian removed his jacket. Aria stared. “What are you doing?” He held it out. “You’re freezing.” “I can’t take that.” “You’re already wet.” “And you’re already covered in coffee.” His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. “Fair point.” Aria surprised herself by smiling. For one brief second, the intimidating billionaire looked less like an untouchable king and more like an ordinary man. Then a black SUV pulled up. A driver stepped out. “Mr. Cross.” Damian didn’t look away from Aria. “What’s your name?” She hesitated. “Aria.” “Aria what?” “Vale.” Something unreadable crossed his expression. “Aria Vale.” The way he said her name sent an inexplicable shiver down her spine. Then he stepped into the waiting car. Before the door closed, he looked at her once more. “Try not to walk into strangers tomorrow.” Aria rolled her eyes. “Try not to stand in people’s way.” The door shut. The SUV disappeared into traffic. Aria stood in the rain. Her heart was beating much faster than it should have been. She shook her head. “Absolutely not.” She had enough problems. She didn’t need Damian Cross to become one of them. She had no idea that by the end of the week, she’d be living under his roof. And that the man she’d just sworn to avoid would become the one person she couldn’t imagine living without.