CHAPTER ONE

JASMIN

“It’s just a job, Jasmin. You’ll survive,” Sara giggled, clearly amused by the horror-stricken expression on my face. “It can’t be that bad… can it?”

“Maybe you’re right,” I groaned, burying my head into my pillow.

“You were so excited when you first got this job, even knowing who your boss was. So, what changed?”

“That was before I found out I was working for Jason Knight all this time!” I moaned, my voice muffled by the pillow. “As a maid! At his freaking mansion! How terrifying is that?”

Sara gave me a mischievous smirk. “Penthouse,” she corrected with a chuckle.

“Mansion, penthouse—whatever the hell they call it. It was great when I was just cleaning an empty house with no one around to bother me. Now he wants to meet me in person, to discuss—God knows what!” I cried out dramatically, flailing my arms for effect.

“Well, if you’re that scared and nervous, we could always switch places. I wouldn’t mind being maid to a hot billionaire.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. We both know you can’t cook or clean for shit.”

She burst out laughing. “Touché.”

“Can you guys please just help me make up my mind already?”

Sara softened, her teasing replaced with gentle sincerity. “You need the job, Jasmin. The scholarship only covers your tuition, not rent or food. And let’s not forget—you’ve always been determined to make it on your own.”

I sighed and nodded. “I know. You’re right.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, come on. Get ready for your big day as a billionaire’s maid.”

I groaned again, dragging myself off the bed. Walking over to the vanity mirror, I took a moment to examine my face. Despite the exhaustion, my brown eyes still held a cheerful gleam. My long, wavy brown hair cascaded down to my waist like silk. I never had the heart to cut it—it was the one thing I loved about myself.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sara said, her tone playful. “If I were a man, I’d date you in a heartbeat.”

I made a face at her, and she laughed.

Sara and Lisa were more than a friend—they were family. We all met in high school and had been inseparable ever since. Now, I shared this tiny apartment and a mountain of shared dreams with Lisa. I love her like a sister, even if Lisa could be a bit unhinged sometimes.

Sara comes from a middle class family and has had a fairly comfortable life than Lisa and I.

Growing up in an orphanage had taught me not to expect too much from life. My parents died in a car accident when I was just seven. My aunt, Anna Laura, had refused to take me in, leaving me at the orphanage with nothing but the occasional letter over the years. No visits. No phone calls. Just words.

I had spent years yearning for a real family, a place to belong. The only family love I’d ever experienced came from Lisa’s home. Her parents had always welcomed me during the holidays, even when they struggled financially. Their house was small but filled with laughter and warmth. I cherished every moment I spent there.

Sometimes, I still prayed that Aunt Anna would show up one day, realize we were family, and bring me home. But that day never came.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. At nineteen, I didn’t have the luxury of being picky. When the opportunity came to work as a maid for Jason Knight—CEO of the global K-Inc Empire—I took it without hesitation. The pay was more than generous, and I could finally support myself through college.

⸻

Despite the summer warmth, an uneasy chill settled over my skin as I wiped down the glass balcony doors connected to the living room. Even the heat couldn’t chase away the goosebumps crawling up my arms.

I glanced at my watch and winced. Mr. Knight would be home in a few hours, and I was still in my shorts and t-shirt—my comfortable cleaning clothes. I’d gotten used to the routine of cleaning while the house was empty, enjoying the silence and the freedom. But this was different. He was coming home early. He had asked to meet me in person.

Which meant I had to put on the dreaded uniform.

Sighing, I looked around the penthouse. It was the most extravagant place I had ever stepped foot in. The open floor plan, the marble floors, the towering windows—it all screamed wealth. But my favorite spot was the balcony. On clear nights, you could see the entire city from up there, or sit beside the fireplace and gaze at the stars. It was magical.

I headed toward the master bedroom to make sure everything was perfect. A shiver ran down my spine the moment I stepped inside. The king-sized bed was centered against the wall, adorned with a silk mattress and ivory sheets. Above it, a massive ceiling mirror loomed.

I couldn’t stop the inappropriate thoughts that slithered into my head.

What would it be like to make love while watching yourself in the mirror above?

I shook my head violently. No! Bad Jasmin. Stop thinking that!

Just then, I heard the elevator ding. Panic surged through me—but it was only Anne, Mr. Knight’s secretary.

She walked into the living room and surveyed the space like a hawk. “Mr. Knight will be back in about an hour. Please make sure everything’s spotless.”

Anne looked just as nervous as I felt. Her blonde hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and her striking blue eyes scanned every corner of the room.

“I will, ma’am. I’m nearly done,” I said politely.

She sighed and walked to the kitchen counter. “Sorry for freaking out. It’s just—he’s a bit of an OCD when it comes to his home.”

“No worries. The place is already really clean, so I should be finished before he arrives.”

“Good,” she said. Then she turned to me with a softer smile. “And drop the ‘ma’am’ thing, please. Just call me Anne.”

I smiled and nodded. “Got it.”

She seemed like a nice person, despite the nerves. Probably just trying to keep her job, like the rest of us.

“How old are you, Jasmin?” she asked suddenly, then blushed. “Sorry—that was rude. I’m just so curious sometimes.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” I laughed. “If you’re asking to check if I’m legal, then yes—I turned nineteen last month.”

Anne let out a breath. “Thank God. Honestly, in the rush to find a replacement, I forgot to check your résumé. Very unprofessional of me.”

“It happens.”

“Are you in school?”

I nodded. “Yes. I’m on a scholarship. But I still need money for rent, books, and food.”

“That’s impressive,” she said, genuinely. “I like that.”

Just then, her phone rang. She excused herself to take the call in the guest room.

I let out a breath and reached up to adjust my hair. My pin slipped out, and my hair tumbled over my shoulders in waves. I muttered a curse when the pin rolled under the couch.

Dropping to my knees, I crawled under the table to find it. I was too focused on reaching for the damn thing to notice the ping of the elevator—or the footsteps approaching behind me.

Then I heard a low whistle and someone clearing their throat.

I froze.

Dear God, please don’t let that be who I think it is.

I jumped up so fast I smacked my head against the table.

“Shit!” I muttered, clutching my skull. I turned around slowly…

And my heart skipped a beat.

Or two.

Maybe three.

Standing before me was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life.

He was tall and powerful, dressed in a custom-tailored black three-piece suit. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a sliver of chest that made my throat go dry. His jet-black hair was artfully tousled, and his olive-toned skin practically glowed. But it was his eyes—hazel, piercing, and filled with amusement—that truly stole my breath away.

He was smirking. A slow, confident smirk that said he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

He smelled expensive—like leather, cedarwood, and something dangerously addictive.

And he’d caught me on my hands and knees, my ass up in the air, wearing shorts that barely covered anything.

I was so, so screwed.

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Would you like to continue with the next scene—perhaps their first real interaction—or revise this chapter for a different tone or pacing?