Holy.

Shit.

I get out of my small, banged-up, red hatch and stare up at the three-story house in front of me. A driveway that wraps around a massive fountain. A grand entry with stairs made of stone that leads up to a beautiful front deck filled with wooden swing chairs and awesome outdoor furniture. The house is dark brick, stone maybe, and looks rustic and old school, like something from a vampire movie or some such thing.

It’s breathtaking.

And so big, so fucking big.

I run my fingers through my hair and adjust my shirt. I glance down, wondering if I’m underdressed. I thought about dressing up, looking professional, but the truth is that just isn’t me, and if I’m going to be working here, they need to know who they’re dealing with. And this is who I am. Loose black tee that dips down at the sides so you can see my sports bra underneath. Tight blue jeans and Converse sneakers. My hair, black as the night, is long, thick, slightly curled and mostly always down around my shoulders.

I don’t wear a great deal of makeup. My slate-grey eyes, olive skin, and full lips give me what Chantelle calls natural beauty. Fine by me. I’m not much of a makeup girl, to be honest. Hell, I’m starting to think it’s entirely possible I don’t actually own a dress. No lie. I’ve never been that kind of woman, much to my mother’s horror. Not like my sister. She’s the perfect female in every way.

And I’m just ... me.

And that’s completely okay.

I walk up to the front doors and notice a bunch of bikes parked off to the left. Harley Davidson’s. Very nice. The owner must be a collector or has a whole lot of friends who ride. Either way is cool with me. I love bikes. And cars. And anything that makes an angry sound while you’re operating it. I walk up the front steps, glancing around. It sure wouldn’t be awful to live here. Man, I can’t even imagine what the inside looks like.

I reach the front door and knock, then I step back and wait.

For a moment, I think no one is going to answer. Then, the door opens, and a man fills the large gap. And boy, does he fill it. For a second, I just stare at him because, well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything in my life that looks like him. Ever. Not ever. My mouth drops open, and I just stare, completely blindsided and shocked.

He.

Is.

To.

Die.

For.

I’m not even joking.

He would have to be the scariest man I’ve ever laid eyes on in my entire damned life, and yet he’s so incredibly gorgeous I can’t even swallow. I don’t even want to. I just want to stare at him for the next ten minutes with my mouth hanging open, dreaming of all the incredibly hot things a man that looks like him could do to your body.

He has olive skin, really olive, and it’s the soft kind, flawless. His eyes are bluer than the sky with a hint of silver. He has a jagged scar on his cheek which only adds to his dangerous looks. His hair, dark, thick, and by the looks of it, long. Possibly braided down his back. Holy hot. I don’t usually do hair on men, but on him ... breathtaking. His face isn’t clean shaven, and he has bits of stubble darkening his face which, honestly, makes my legs shake a little.

Oh, boy.

I need to say something.

My eyes drop to the leather jacket he’s wearing, and my mouth finally closes. I study it, and I’m impressed when it becomes clear what it is. He’s a biker. I know the group: Iron Fury. Everyone knows them. Nobody really sees them, but I’ve always wanted to meet one. I used to try and sneak to their parties when I was younger, but nobody would ever take me. It’s like the moment people hear biker, they run for the hills.

Not this girl.

I’m utterly fascinated.

“You’re a biker,” I say, my voice softer than it usually is, which I need to correct quickly. I clear my throat, take a deep breath, and look into his eyes again.

Gosh.

Vagina.

Calm down.

“Got a problem with that?”

His voice.

Lordy.

Take me now.

I raise my brows and look past him to see four other bikers standing behind him. And holy wow, they’re equally as good looking. I can’t begin to take them in one by one because I’ll probably pass out from the gorgeousness of them if I do.

“Where do they breed you lot? Hot biker fertility center?”

One of the bikers snorts like he’s surprised by my outburst.

I look back at the one standing at the door.

“No, it’s not a problem, in fact, I am super excited. When I was younger, I used to try and get into your parties, but nobody would ever take me. This is awesome!”

I step past the man at the door staring oddly at me and walk up to the four others now watching me, all of them slightly guarded. Did they think I was going to run for cover? Hell to the no. This is super cool. A biker’s maid.

Imagine that.

“How’s it going?” I say to them, stopping in front of them, getting a good look.

Yum.

“I’m Saskia.” I extend a hand to the one that has “President” plastered onto the front of his jacket. “And before you laugh, I didn’t get a choice, okay?”

He studies me, and oh boy, is he to die for. Dark hair. Green eyes. Body like stone. Tattoos. Lordy. Then he grins and extends a massive, ringed hand, curling it around mine. “We all just lost a fuck load of money, but pleased to meet you, darlin’. I’m Malakai.”

“Make a girl blush, using words like that.” I grin at him. “And how did you lose money?”

I move to the next one, the only fair haired one in the group. Dirty blond, honey-colored eyes—man, they just keep getting better and better.

“We made a bet on how long you’d stay before runnin’ out the door. Mason over there has lost three already the moment they saw him, and I’m Koda. I just got all the cash these fuckers bet, because I said you’d be cool with it.”

I shake his hand, grinning. “Three? Well, you are a scary bunch, I won’t lie, but it takes a little more to scare me.”

The next one steps forward, quieter and more reserved. I can’t really tell the color of his eyes, but they look almost ... yellowish. He has dark hair, too. Curling slightly at the ends. And he’s incredibly good looking. “Boston,” he says, shaking my hand.

“Did you lose much, Boston?”

He grins at me. “Didn’t bet much, lady. Smart.”

I smile at him. “I like you.”

I step to the last one, and my brows go up. “Well, well. I’ve seen your face before. Maverick, right? You’re the one who caused all the heat with Scarlett Belle. Nice work. That was one hell of a story.”

He grins at me, and it is obvious immediately he is related to Malakai. The two look very similar, only Maverick’s hair is shorter, and he isn’t loaded with as many tattoos. But he’s still big, and still gorgeous.

“That’s me.”

“I have to know.” I grin, crossing my arms. “Are you still with her? I adore her!”

“Sure am, and I’ll have to introduce you.”

“Really?” I cry out, clapping my hands. “Awesome.”

I turn and face who must obviously be Mason. The owner of this massive house. He’s staring at me, eyes so intense I fight the urge to look away. I don’t, though; instead, I just watch him until he finally speaks. “You got experience?”

I cross my arms. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Not what I asked.”

I narrow my eyes. “Yes. I have experience.”

“You got a criminal record?”

I snort. “No, not unless you count stealing a bra when I was twelve, but granted, it was really pretty, and I didn’t embrace the boobies at that stage in life, so I wanted to hide them.”

He blinks, someone behind me chuckles.

“You an alcoholic?”

“Only on the weekends.”

He presses his mouth together. Somebody else laughs.

“Smoke?”

“No, sir.”

“Into drugs?”

“Does coffee and chocolate count? Because honestly, those two things are pretty addictive ...”

He just keeps on staring. It’s like trying to crack a brick wall with a feather duster.

I’m intrigued.

I like a good challenge.

“Is that all, or would you like to know the color panties I’m wearing, also? They’re pink, before you ask. And no, I’m not usually a fan of pink, far too girly, however, they were the only ones I had left at such short notice.”

Another chuckle behind me.

Mason continues to stare.

Like he’s never met anyone like me before.

That’s not unusual. I get that a lot.

“I can cook, thanks to having a Maltese mother. I can clean like a champ. I’m a hard worker, and best of all, I’m not even the slightest bit scared of you. So, I think you and I both know you’re going to give me the job.”

Mason’s brows go up. “That so?”

I cross my arms. “That’s so. I don’t lie. I don’t steal. I don’t cheat. I’ll respect your house and do the job you give me. Easy as that.”

“You don’t hire her, brother,” Malakai says, stepping up beside me, “I fuckin’ will.”

“Well, your chance is nearly gone, in that case,” I point out to Mason. “Malakai here might just have a better offer ...”

Mason looks to Malakai then mutters, “Full-time. You know the pay. Live here. Stay outta my way and do what I ask and we’ll have no problems. You’re hired.”

I beam and clap my hands together, turning to Malakai. “Is he always so pleasant?”

Malakai grins and says, “Always, darlin’.”

Well.

This is going to be a hoot.