Page 1 of The Billionaire Alpha's Surprise Baby

Chapter One

Ava

The vacation rentalis a complete disaster when Jules and I arrive to clean it. The floor is caked with muddy boot prints, dishes are piled in the kitchen sink, and there’s something red and sticky dripping from the ceiling.

“What the hell?” Jules mutters, staring up at the gooey mess.

“Blender margarita explosion,” I sigh, nodding at the dirty appliance sitting on the kitchen counter.

A trail of white feathers leads into the living room, and my insides clench with dread. Someone — or, more likely — something ripped into the oversized down throw pillows that once adorned the couch.

“I guess they had a dog,” I say.

“You mean a rogue demon from hell,” Jules grumbles, shaking her head at the trail of muddy paw prints leading in from the back patio. “Ugh. I hate pet-friendly rentals.”

“Same,” I groan, cringing as I extract something pink and lacy from between the couch cushions.

Jules and I work for Crisp N Clean — a local maid service. Mainly, we spend our time cleaning vacation rentals and getting them ready for the next wave of wealthy interlopers who come to Aspen to ski. It’s seasonal — which is what I was after when I took the job — but it’s also backbreaking, infuriating work.

You’d think that people spending upwards of five hundred dollars a night to stay somewhere would leave the place in good shape, but in the four years I’ve moonlighted as a maid, I’ve learned that it’s often the wealthiest clients who leave things the filthiest.

Jules is already on her phone with the owner of the rental, who will charge the guests for damages while we get paid the same. She hangs up and shakes her head, which tells me we’re not going to get any extra time to turn over the rental.

“I’ll get the sheets and towels,” I sigh.

Jules nods and holds out her fist in the universal rock-paper-scissors gesture. I pump my fist three times, holding “rock.” Jules beats me with paper, which means that I’ll be starting in the bathrooms while she tackles the kitchen.

Steeling myself for the worst, I grab my caddy full of cleaning supplies and scurry into the back room to strip the beds and collect all the dirty towels. We typically have just under four hours to turn over a three-bedroom condo, which is just barely enough time to do all the laundry and get the place presentably clean.

Once the linens are in the washing machine, I trudge back to the bathroom, where I’m greeted by the sight of a used condom lying in the middle of the floor.

Swallowing down the sick feeling in my throat, I reach for my rubber gloves and glimpse the photo I have taped to the inside of my supply caddy. It’s a National Geographic shot of Ha Long Bay in Vietnam, where ships navigate around huge mossy rock formations that accent the still turquoise water at sunset.

It’s one of the many places on my bucket list — and one I’ll get to see on my trip through Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, and Laos. It’s the reason I’ve been working two or three jobs at a time ever since I graduated from high school.

When my mom got pregnant with me and my dad left, she got stuck in Pueblo and never left. Growing up, we never had extra money for things like vacations. I’d never even left the state of Colorado until my school trip to Costa Rica my senior year.

Watching her struggle has made me determined never to be stuck anywhere, which is why I’ve been working my ass off these last six years to earn my degree and save up enough money to travel the world before I start my career.

I’ve nearly finished scrubbing the weird ring of scum out of the bathtub when my phone pings. Gingerly, I fish it out of my back pocket with my thumb and forefinger and glance down at my notifications.

“Shit,” I mutter.

I totally forgot that I agreed to pick up another shift at the café, which is my other seasonal gig. I’m supposed to be at my other job in half an hour, and Jules and I aren’t even close to finishing this rental.

“Jules?” I call, cringing as I imagine the level of bribery it’s going to take to make up for flaking out on her this afternoon.

“What?” she yells.

“Don’t hate me . . .”

Jules groans as if she already knows what I’m about to say, which is absurd since I’ve never asked her to cover for me before.

I shuffle into the main living area with my tail between my legs. “So . . . I forgot that I picked up Leah’s shift at the café this afternoon . . .”

Jules is standing on a barstool scrubbing the rum-infused goo off the kitchen ceiling, but I’d be able to see her eye roll from space. “How much time you got?”

I grimace. “Like, fifteen minutes?”

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