Caught in the Ruthless Billionaire Web

“Aaah!” I squeal with joy, sprinting around the apartment. “I got it! I got it! I got it!” I skid to a halt in front of Elly, my heart racing. “What? What? What did you get?” she asks, her eyes widening with curiosity. “The job at the Tryst Hotel!” I blurt out, breathless. Elly’s brows arch slightly. “The maid job? Congrats.” Her tone is measured, careful. I pout. “Do you have to say it like that?” Elly shrugs, and gives a small smile. “I just don’t see why you’re so excited to clean up after rich people.” I flop onto the couch, my excitement undimmed. “It’s a steady paycheck. You know how prestigious the Tryst Hotel is. The salary will help us out a lot. Besides, it’s not like jobs are falling into the lap of a dropout.” She nods slowly, considering. “True. But why were you so fixated on the Tryst Hotel? Better pay can’t be the only reason.” I hesitate, then shrug. “It just seemed like the best choice.” Elly leans back, eyes narrowing slightly. “You were pretty adamant. Almost like you had another reason.” “Come on, El. You’ve been watching too many dramas.” I stand up, brushing off the conversation. “I need to get ready. They want me in by eight. Fingers crossed I start immediately.” “Good luck,” she calls as I walk away. “You’ll need it.” --- “…and this is where you change for your shift, not in any of the hotel rooms,” Lisa, my supervisor, says, guiding me through the staff area. “Why would I change in a guest room?” I ask, puzzled. “You will be surprised by the weird things people get up to when they think no one is watching. So over here, is the employees’ dining area,” she continues as she leads me to a wide open space, where tables and chairs are arranged cafeteria style “We provide two meals per shift. Don’t-” “Eat in the guest dining halls?” I finish with a grin. Lisa chuckles. “Exactly. You’re sharp, Selene. I think we’ll get along well.” “I hope so. Thank you for this opportunity. I won’t let you down.” “Let’s hope so. Now go change. Your shift starts in thirty minutes. You’re assigned to the third and fourth floors.” “Got it,” I say, rushing off to change. --- Less than thirty minutes later, I’m in uniform: a short-sleeve pastel dress with a black waist apron. Heading to the third floor, Lisa calls my name, hurrying over. “Good, I caught you just in time.” “What’s wrong?” “We have a VIP guest coming in an hour. I need you to clean the Empire Suite.” “The Empire Suite?! Me?” I exclaim. “All the other maids are occupied. Don’t worry, you’ll get a hefty bonus. Come on, I’ll key you in on the elevator.” “Key me in?” I push the cleaning trolley, following her. “Some suites need special keys for access,” she explains as the elevator doors close. “Ensures guest privacy.” “Huh, neat.” “Remember, you have less than an hour. He must not see you in the room,” she says, handing me a key card. “Got it?” “Who is this VIP?” I ask, curious. “Fred Sloan.” “Oh, him.” My mind flashes to the tabloids: heir to the Sloan fortune, dubbed the Ice Prince of America. “You know him?” “Who doesn’t? He’s practically royalty in the business world.” Lisa nods. “Exactly. Just do your job and make sure he doesn’t see you. Good luck.” --- The elevator doors open, and I step out, key card in hand. It Is a stunning suite. Black marble floors, with cream colored walls and mostly glass furniture. The candle chandelier is decorated with glittering beads that twinkle with the fluorescent light, casting the whole room in a sophisticated warm light, plush, silk covered couches surround a low mahogany coffee table that sits on a plush monochrome carpet. “Man, it is good to be rich,” I mutter as I begin cleaning the suite. I’m halfway through the dining area when I realize an hour isn’t enough. Heading to the bedroom, I hear the door click open. “…And make sure all directors are aware of the meeting,” a deep voice commands. “No excuses.” “s**t,” I mutter, rushing into the bedroom. “Now what?” “If that’s all, sir, I’ll have your dinner brought up,” another voice says. “Preferred. And find out why Lisa wasn’t around to show us in.” The door closes, and footsteps approach. Shit. Lisa must not have known he’d arrived. What now?! The bedroom door starts to open. “s**t!” I dart behind the curtain, heart pounding. Genius idea, Selene, I think sarcastically. The door swings open, and footsteps enter, followed by a crashing sound. “What in the blazes?!” the voice snarls. Oh no. I left the cleaning cart out. “Who’s here?!” the voice demands. I stay silent, my heart racing. “I know someone’s here! Come out!” With a reluctant sigh, I step out from behind the curtain, hands shaking. “Good evening, sir,” I greet, trying to sound calm. Fred Sloan’s icy blue eyes lock onto mine, sending a chill down my spine. Great. Fired on the first day. What rotten luck.