The Billionaire's Househelp

The Interview** Alexis “Lexi” Thompson glanced down at her worn out heels, scuffed from too many miles walked in search of opportunities that never seemed to come. Her resume. A single sheet of paper clutched between fingers that trembled more from hunger than nerves, felt woefully inadequate for the towering mansion before her. The estate, Saint Clair Manor, was the kind of place that belonged in glossy magazines and billionaire fantasy novels. Glistening white columns framed a massive oak door, the kind that likely required an army to open. Manicured hedges lined the driveway, a sharp contrast to the chipped paint of the apartment she’d left that morning. She swallowed, adjusting her blazer. Two sizes too big, borrowed from her best friend, Tessa. "You’re desperate, not dumb," she reminded herself. The online job listing had been vague: Live-in Housekeeper Needed. High Salary. Strict Requirements. It had been posted under an anonymous employer, but everyone in town knew the name Julian Saint Clair. Billionaire. Control freak. Impossible to please. The position came with a reputation. Housekeepers barely lasted a month before quitting. Or being fired. But Lexi had nothing to lose. She squared her shoulders and knocked. The door opened almost instantly, revealing a woman in her fifties with iron-gray hair tied into a severe bun. Her sharp gaze scanned Lexi from head to toe. “Miss Thompson?” “Yes,” Lexi replied, forcing confidence into her voice. The woman stepped aside. “Follow me. Mr. Saint Clair will see you now.” Lexi’s stomach twisted. Most people would have conducted the interview through a house manager. The fact that Julian himself wanted to see her? Intimidating. She stepped inside, her heels clicking against the pristine marble floor. The air smelled of polished wood and something faintly citrusy, clean and expensive. The housekeeper led her down a long hallway before stopping in front of two imposing double doors. “Wait here.” Lexi barely had time to breathe before the doors swung open. And there he was. Julian Saint Clair. He sat behind an enormous mahogany desk, the floor to ceiling windows behind him casting his tall, lean frame in silhouette. Sunlight caught on the sharp angles of his face. High cheekbones, a strong jawline, lips pressed in an impatient line. He was unfairly attractive, but his cold, assessing gaze reminded her of a man accustomed to control, not charm. Lexi cleared her throat. “Mr. Saint Clair.” He didn’t offer a greeting, didn’t gesture for her to sit. Just stared. “You applied for the housekeeping position,” he said, voice low and clipped. “No prior experience in estate management. No formal training.” Lexi clenched her fists at her sides. She’d expected this. “No, but I learn fast, and I work harder than most,” she replied evenly. His gaze flicked to her resume, the paper looking small in his elegant fingers. He read for no more than five seconds before setting it down. “Tell me why I should hire you.” Lexi met his gaze, forcing herself not to shrink under the intensity of his stare. “Because I don’t quit. And I need this job.” Julian leaned back, studying her like she was a puzzle missing pieces. The silence stretched until she thought he might dismiss her altogether. Then he said, “The job is demanding. My expectations are non negotiable. You’ll live on site. You will follow the rules. If you fail, you leave immediately. Understood?” Lexi swallowed but nodded. “Understood.” For a moment, something flickered in his expression. Something unreadable. Then he stood. “You start tomorrow.” Lexi barely contained her shock. “Just like that?” His lips twitched. Almost amused. “Just like that.” And with that, the interview was over.