Page 17 of The Billionaire and the Maid

“You don’t need to do that,” she says as she gets out of the car. I quickly follow her.

“Yes, I do.”

When we reach her door, she turns. “Are you always this…overbearing?”

I laugh. “Walking you to your door isoverbearing?”

She nods and holds up her hand with her finger and thumb an inch apart. “A little.”

“Miss Foster, you are nothing like what I thought you’d be like,” I admit.

She furrows her brows. “What did you think I’d be like?”

I pause. I’m not about to tell her my real thoughts. Because I never share those with anyone. And honestly, I don’t know what I thought she’d be like and I’m definitely not telling her I jacked off to images of her ass swaying while cleaning.

“Just different,” I answer.

She quirks her head to the side. “Same, Mr. Marino. Same.”

CHAPTERSEVEN

Ella

I’ve seen Mr. and Mrs. Marino from a distance, but up close, they are way more intimidating. We are eating in a room off the formal dining room. A less formal, formal dining room. I want to roll my eyes when Chase tells me this right before opening one of the double doors that lead inside.

His father is seated at the head of the table like a king. His mother is seated to his left along the long side of the table. Neither one looks happy to be there. His mother is dressed impeccably as if she’s ready to attend Fashion Week in Paris. I think she’s in her late fifties but she looks twenty years younger than that. His father is in a suit and tie. Both are busy reading things on their phones rather than conversing.

Chase clears his throat as we stand at the side of the table. His mother looks up first. I can feel her eyes assessing the pink dress that Chase had sent over to me. I feel like I’m playing Country Club Barbie with my white cardigan and kitten-heel shoes that perfectly match my dress.

I swallow nervously as I wait for her to finish visually evaluating me. It’s like some strange test and I can’t be certain if I’m going to pass or fail.

“You look familiar,” she says. And for the first time since I broke the vase and agreed to be Chase’s fake girlfriend, I realize that in three days, I have to be back here cleaning her home. Shit. Should I have worn a disguise? What would I even wear? A wig? Maybe I should have pretended to be a brunette or a redhead. Dread washes over me like a tsunami. She’s still staring at me, and I quickly clear my throat.

“Oh, uh, well, maybe you’ve seen me around Storyview Falls? I live here,” I manage.

She shrugs. “Perhaps.”

His father finally looks up from his phone. He peers at me over glasses. “Are you going to introduce us to your friend?” he asks as he looks me up and down.

“This is Ella Foster,” he introduces.

I wait for some sort of handshake to occur. But instead, something flashes in Mr. Marino’s eyes, and I swear Mrs. Marino gives me a double take.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I state with a nod and smile, trying to find some kind of deeply hidden self-confidence.

Mr. Marino clears his throat. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Foster. Are you from Storyview Falls?”

“Yes. Born and raised,” I answer as Chase pulls a chair back for me and motions for me to sit.

I oblige. His hands graze my upper arms as he steps back.

“I thought we were having guests?” Chase asks.

“Last-minute change of plans. It’ll just be us,” Mrs. Marino answers, her eyes still glancing in my direction.

Mr. Marino opens his mouth to ask another question as Chase takes a seat next to me, but the doors from the kitchen fly open and Wendy, one of the house staff, comes out carrying a tray of coffee. Her eyes meet mine and she trips, the tray goes sailing along with the coffee. Mugs shatter and coffee spills all over the marble floor.

Fuck. I managed to tell a few staff my white lie version of what was happening, but I didn’t get a chance to tell everyone yet. And Wendy was on the list of people who didn’t know.

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