2. My boss.

I caught my think dark and long hair in a perfectly neat ponytail. My light brown eyes glimmered with a subtle warmth, reflecting a blend of curiosity and determination.

Delicate freckles adorned my nose, adding a touch of whimsy to my fair complexion. A faint, infectious smile played on my lips, revealing a sense of both mischief and kindness.

In the wake of those yesterday since my first time with that mysterious stranger, the memory still lingers fresh, even the ache between my thighs was a constant reminder.

Waking up alone the next morning, the initial thrill of the encounter was overshadowed by a hint of disappointment. Sharing such an intimate moment with a stranger left me yearning for more while feeling ashamed that I had given my virginity to someone who I would never see again.

Lyra tried to lift my spirits, suggesting that true love might arrive later in life, maybe at forty. But waiting that long to truly live felt like an eternity.

That silver-eyed stranger, though, remains unforgettable—a simple yet intense connection that has left a mark on my soul.

After waking up alone in a bed and reaching back home I was immediately called upon for a job offer. The funny thing is, I don't remember applying for this job.

An online interview with a lady, and bam, I got the job on the spot.

To top it off, she dropped the bomb—seventy bucks an hour. Skeptical at first, but she assured me the person I'd be looking after was loaded. Logic flew out the window, because all the possible red flags of this job became a distant memory.

In a job market packed with a thousand hopefuls for a single gig, life's been a rollercoaster. I bounced out of foster care at eighteen, teaming up with Lyra, my partner in crime since our foster days.

We've hustled through all sorts—stealing, begging, and scraping by on welfare. Lyra took off a year before me from foster care and scooped me up when I hit eighteen. It's been a wild ride, but we're still standing, ready to take on whatever comes our way.

"I wonder if he's old, grumpy, ill-tempered? You know how old money people are, they can get a bit extremely obnoxious." I wondered out loud to my best friend Lyra.

"I can't shake the thought—what if he's one of those old, grumpy types? You know, the kind with an ill-tempered demeanor? Old money folks can be extremely obnoxious," I mused aloud, sharing my concerns with my best friend Lyra.

"I don't know, I got carried away I guess, as soon as I heard seventy bucks an hour then all that went to my head was, I'll be there bright an early Monday morning!" I recalled.

I was about to head off to my first day of work today, nerves fluttering like a restless butterfly. Hoping to make a stellar impression, I took a deep breath, ready to step into the unknown of a new chapter.

"Well, won't you wish me good luck?" I questioned, observing her pop her bubblegum as strands of blonde hair caught up in a messy bun.

"Good luck!" she sang, a sweet and casual wish that lingered in the air.

I had managed to get a uber online, and as we navigated through the city, the landscape gradually transformed into a scene of opulence compared to my shabby neighborhood.

The car turned into a neighborhood where each house seemed to outdo the last in grandeur.

Eventually, we arrived at our destination-a breathtaking estate nestled among perfectly manicured gardens. The imposing gates swung open, revealing a driveway that seemed to stretch for an eternity.

Exiting the car, I marveled at the sheer elegance of my surroundings. The air carried a faint scent of wealth, and the distant hum of city life was replaced by a serene quietude.

Gathering my belongings, I stepped out into the crisp morning air, with my luggage in tow, I approached the entrance, marveling at the elegant façade that stood before me.

Upon giving the guards my identification, I was ushered inside the estate as they helped me with my luggage.

The front doors swung open, revealing a foyer that exuded timeless sophistication. Marble floors gleamed beneath the soft glow of a crystal chandelier, and the air carried the faint fragrance of luxury.

The sound of my footsteps reverberated throughout the vast hall as I moved through it. I soon arrived at a door, where I hoped someone who was welcoming would be waiting.

"Good afternoon," the old-aged looking woman said, her tone warm and welcoming. "I'm the head maid here, Gretchen. You must be Stella Winslow; we've been waiting for you."

I responded with a friendly smile, "Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to meet you, Gretchen."

Gretchen's eyes sparkled with a kind familiarity. "Likewise, Stella. Mr. Lockwood has been anticipating your arrival. If you'll follow me, I'll give you a tour of the house and acquaint you with its nooks and crannies."

Gretchen guided me through the elegantly adorned rooms, she spoke animatedly about the family's history and the quirks of the estate. "This room, dear Stella, has witnessed generations of laughter and whispered secrets," she remarked with a nostalgic smile.

Gretchen continued the tour; we entered the heart of the house-the bustling kitchen. The aroma of freshly baked bread and the gentle hum of activity filled the air. "This is where the magic happens," Gretchen exclaimed, gesturing towards the well-worn countertops and the inviting warmth of the hearth.

"Breakfast is served between 7:30am and 9:30am, lunch is provided from 12:00pm to 1:00pm, and dinner is available from 5:00pm to 7:00pm. We usually attend to Mr. Lockwood's meals promptly, so you won't have to worry about that," Gretchen explained. I nodded, absorbing her words with keen interest.

Gretchen's story painted a vivid picture of the family's life within these walls as we went from room to room. Finally, she smiled up at me. "Stella, do you recall your role as the caretaker for Mr. Lockwood?"

"As Mr. Lockwood's caretaker, I handle a range of responsibilities - from maintaining his living space, assisting with personal care and dressing, to organizing schedules, running errands, and ensuring a smooth flow of daily tasks. It's a comprehensive role that involves a bit of everything to support his daily life and routines." I rehearsed for her.

"Great."

Gretchen smiled appreciatively at my response. "You've got it all covered, Stella. Now, let me show you to your room."

We walked down the hallway, she shared, "Your room is right next to Mr. Lockwood's, making it convenient for you to attend to his needs promptly. It's a cozy space, and I hope you'll find it comfortable during your time here."

Opening the door, she revealed a room adorned with warm hues and a touch of homeliness. "Feel free to make it your own, Stella. If you need anything or have questions, don't hesitate to ask. Welcome to your new home."

Impressed by the spaciousness and coziness of my new room, I couldn't help but express my gratitude to Gretchen. "This is wonderful, Gretchen. Thank you. Now, I'd love to meet Mr. Lockwood. Could we?"

Gretchen nodded, leading me to the adjacent door. With a gentle knock, a deep voice from within invited us in. "Come in."

The door open, revealing a gorgeously styled dark themed room. My eyes casted towards the bed and where Mr. Lockwood sat.

Mr. Lockwood, despite my initial expectations, was a strikingly handsome man in his late twenties. His dark, tousled hair framed a strong, well-defined face. A pair of deep, thoughtful silver eyes, glistened beneath a furrowed brow as he focused on the computer screen.

His chiseled jawline spoke of determination, and a subtle five o'clock shadow added a touch of rugged charm. A pair of wire-framed glasses perched on his nose, accentuating an air of intellectually. His skin well-toned.

He had an easy confidence about him, sporting a crisp shirt that suggested a careful sense of style. He was an enigmatic, incredibly attractive billionaire with a certain charm.

"Mr. Lockwood, this is Stella Winslow, your caregiver which will be taking very good care of your needs and wants from now on." Gretchen spoke as his eyes glanced up at me.

Mr. Lockwood's thunderous voice echoed through our sudden introduction, almost making me lose my sanity. He continued, "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Winslow," and as he held out his hand, I nearly passed out. "N-nice to meet you, Mr. Lockwood," I didn't even care that I had stuttered, staring into the handsome stranger's silver eyes.

That voice......

Oh my god and, those eyes.....

In that moment, the realization struck—my boss was the man I had slept with!