M ARTHA WAS GIVING ME THE stink-eye.
It was hard not to notice it. Every time I turned towards her, she was glaring at me out of the corner of her eye, her mouth set in a thin line and her expression annoyed with everything I was doing. It was something I was used to, but that day it was especially vicious.
“I’m done with the dining room,” I told her, once I’d finished up. “I was thinking I could do the master bedroom next.”
“Done?” she asked, picking up a fork from the silverware drawer and inspecting it so closely I had to stifle back a laugh. “You call this done?”
“Yes,” I replied calmly. “I’ve scrubbed everything, and there’s nothing wrong with that fork. It’s perfectly clean.”
“If you’re happy with it,” Martha said in a cool tone. “I guess it will have to do, even though I would have done a better job, obviously.”
I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. She set the fork down and glared at me.
“You’re not doing the master bedroom, though,” she said, and I stared back at her. “Mr. Goldwyn doesn’t like anyone in there but me.”
She puffed her chest out when she said it, as if it was some special honor getting to clean a rich businessman’s mess in the bedroom.
Well, maybe when the businessman looked like Rafael Goldwyn, it really was an honor…
Sexy, tall, dark and handsome. A man who played the main role in so many teenage dreams, especially mine.
I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but when he’d cornered me earlier he’d guessed correctly. Of course, I’d seen him before—Martha never shut up about him. And since I was curious, I might have Googled him once or twice too many, staring at that ridiculously sculpted face covered in dark stubble. Okay, so maybe I was a little addicted to him. There was nothing wrong with having a little crush, was there?
It wasn’t like I spent hours and hours cutting out magazine clippings like my stepmother. She was obsessed with Mr. Goldwyn, and it wasn’t even that hard to notice. The fact that he seemed oblivious to her glaring attraction to him took me by surprise, but I figured he wasn’t even remotely interested in someone like a housekeeper who polished his silverware.
But he had seemed awfully interested in me.
Goosebumps erupted all over my skin when I remembered his tall, broad-shouldered body caging me under him. He’d sent a shiver down my spine and a tingle between my legs. He really was something, a dozen times better-looking in person. Those photos didn’t do him justice… And my fingers bringing myself to an orgasm hadn’t, either. That night, I would though. I’d tease my clit into a release so intense I’d soak the bed for him… Dream of Mr. Goldwyn between my legs instead, cleaning me with his tongue.
“Are you even listening, Ella?” my stepmother barked at me, and I snapped out of it, my cheeks the color of beetroot as I looked into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled distractedly. “I’ll just finish up the hall with you if that’s alright.”
She turned around, huffing and puffing, and I carried my bucket of water into the beautifully done entrance hall. Two large staircases descended from the upper floor, the whole room done in beige Italian marble that seemed so expensive I was almost too scared to touch it. Under the dirty rag I scrubbed it with, the marble gleamed and sparkled, making me stare at the beautiful stone.
I’d never been in a house like this. It was incredible, truly incredible. From our small house in the grounds, I could see the mansion from a distance, but I never dared step foot inside. It was forbidden, my stepmother had told me that plenty of times before. So, I stayed away, keeping to myself and my books. I’d just finished school, and I had gotten accepted to NYU in the fall—my dream university.
But before I could step inside the halls that had taught so many people I admired, tragedy had ruined my life forever.
My father, the man I was closer to than anyone else, passed away the summer before I was about to start school. He’d just gotten married a few months prior, and he left me alone with a stepmother I barely knew. We’d never been close, but after she found out he left us the house together, she decided to sell it.
I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I came home one day to find a big SOLD sign on the front lawn, and Martha told me the house was gone, and I’d be able to get half of the money when I turned twenty-one. Until then, she was going to keep it in a trust fund for me.
Two weeks later, she told me about her job. She also told me that because my money was tied up, I’d have to wait before I went to university. Just like that, she shattered the only dream I’d ever had. She moved me into the small house on Mr. Goldwyn’s estate and I lived there in absolute misery, with nothing to do but help her with whatever she wanted.
It quickly became obvious Martha liked Mr. Goldwyn. It wasn’t just the incessant talking about him. She managed to include him in every conversation we had, talked about him with anyone and everyone she knew. That was how I came to know more about him, and the more I found out, the more intrigued I became.
He was loaded, a billionaire according to Martha—and Time magazine.
He was also a complete playboy, seen with a new toy every time he made a public appearance. He was notorious for changing his escorts, and even more infamous when it came to models. He loved those, and he’d kickstarted many a career just by being seen with a new model.
He ran a family company, and he was also distantly related to some royalty, which made him even sexier in the public’s eyes. His family members were famous jewelers, and he had more money than he could ever spend.
I lived on his estate for minutes before I ran into the man himself. Now, it was already December, with the holidays coming up soon. And I’d never felt sadder.
It would be the first Christmas without my father. I’d gotten used to my annual holidays with him. My mom passed away during childbirth, and I’d never known her. But Dad made sure I felt taken care of and special around Christmas. It didn’t seem like Martha had any plans for us, especially not of the special sort.
I’d been miserable for months, ever since I’d lost my father.
That day, finally meeting the elusive Mr. Goldwyn, I found my long-lost spark. It was still inside me, faintly glowing in the back of my eyes, waiting for someone to ignite it and light my fire.
And maybe, just maybe, Rafael would be the one.
I remembered the way my body felt under his—vulnerable, exposed, desperate for the lightest of touches. His fingers brushing my skin, entering me, ridding me of the one piece that was left of my virginity.
Eighteen, and a virgin… I kept to myself in high school. Nobody knew, and it was better that way. I never got any attention from boys, anyway, not until this spring when my boobs grew to a full C-cup and my hair reached my butt. Then, I was the center of attention for the last few months of school.
But I kept away from all of it, kept to myself.
I didn’t want a boy to have my virginity.
I wanted it to be a man.
A real man, just like Mr. Goldwyn…
“Ella!” Martha was staring at me, and I blushed deeply, soaking my rag in the bucket again. “Snap out of it. I swear to God, you’re the worst helper I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered under my breath. “So sorry. I’ll keep working.”
“You better,” she grunted.
I fought the urge to sigh and kept working under her watchful eye. She made me do everything twice, but even I had to admit that by the time we were done, the mansion sparkled and shone with a beauty I’d only seen before in interior decorating magazines. I felt jealous of the man who owned it all, the beautiful house, all those jewels. He could have anything he wanted. I bet he looked at every other girl the way he’d looked at me. There was no way he’d want me permanently. He’d just use me and toss me aside like he did with all those models.
“Martha.”
I gasped lightly, and my stepmother gave me a dirty little look as we turned to face the man that had spoken.
Rafael Goldwyn stood at the top of the stairs, staring right at me with that impenetrable gaze of his. He came downstairs, taking the stairs fast and efficiently and coming to a stop only a few feet away from me.
“You are done for the day,” he said to me, and my stepmother let out an annoyed moan.
“We’re nowhere near done, Mr. Goldwyn,” she said. “We haven’t even started on the first floor!”
“I don’t care.” He turned towards her briefly, giving her the once-over.
She smoothed down her uniform. I hadn’t gotten one yet, I just wore an outfit I’d had at home, but I felt raggedy and ugly next to him. He was dressed in the latest fashion, with expensive fabrics and brands I could only dream of owning. And me… I was just wearing leggings and a top I’d owned for years. I blushed deeply, turning my face away so he wouldn’t notice.
“You may leave, Martha,” Mr. Goldwyn told my stepmom, and I leaned down quickly to pick up my bucket. “Not you, though.”
My eyes shot up, right into his, and his dark gaze cut straight to my center, making me melt.
“Mr. Goldwyn, I really think–” Martha started, but he held up a hand in her direction, his focus remaining on me.
“The girl stays, Martha,” he said with a rough edge to his voice. “I have some things to discuss with her, and I’d appreciate if you’d let us do that in peace. We don’t need you here.”
We.
As if I could ever be a ‘we’ with a man like that.
“Alright,” my stepmother said with an exaggerated sigh. “But after that, straight to the house, Ella. You have dinner to cook, and I will not be kept waiting.”
“Yes,” I mumbled, keeping my eyes downcast.
I was too terrified to look up at him, feeling his hot gaze on me, searing my skin every time he moved them to a new spot on my body. I heard my stepmother’s retreating steps, and I realized we were all alone in the huge entrance hall of Rafe’s mansion.
“Look up,” he ordered me.
I bit my bottom lip and shook my head no, and he laughed at me.
“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you,” he said, his voice holding a dark promise.