His Under Contract

His Under Contract

Holly

As a kid with a Marine for a father, and a doormat stay-at-home mother, I didn’t have huge aspirations for my future. Maybe a teacher—working with kids, and then enjoying a summer break. However, I didn’t think I would end up a housekeeper scrubbing floors. It doesn’t matter if the floors are in a million-plus dollar condo, in one of Chicago’s most exclusive addresses. I’m still on my hands and knees for one of the most obnoxious assholes I’ve ever met. The jerk believes his own press as one of the biggest rainmakers in Chicago. A lawyer specializing in business and sports contracts, Ethan Bishop is sought after in the boardroom and the bedroom. While even his sister thinks he’s best taken in small doses, she offers me a job I can’t refuse, not if I don’t want to go back to my parents with my tail between my legs. I need this job, and it’s not like it’s forever, just until I’m not on the edge of poverty. Let him be the unrepentant manwhore who didn’t do repeats. It’s better for him not to be at home, so close that my stupid body goes nuts when I even think of him. It’s better this way, because he could never want me. I’m a plus size not a size two model he’s used to having. I’m safe, it doesn’t matter how badly I want him, he doesn’t want me. Does he?

Ethan

In my world, the stakes are high, million dollar high, so no, I’m not nice. I don’t say please or thank you and I never apologize. If you have a problem with that, it’s your problem not mine. I didn’t make partner at one of the biggest law firms in Chicago at only thirty-two with my winning personality. I’m on top because I make money for my clients, whether it’s a high stakes takeover, or a player getting paid every dime he’s worth. My clients come out on top. I have worked hard for the life I have, the million-dollar condo, the Ferrari in the garage, and the hottest woman on my arm and in my bed. So, if my bitch of a new housekeeper wants to look down on me, like I give a fuck. My one weakness, my little sister parked me with a housekeeper who is far from perfect. Okay, she has the cooking and the cleaning down. But damn, does she have an attitude and a mouth on her that smiles even when she’s insulting me. It’s a good thing she isn’t my type, or I would make her pay the best way possible. At least, I’m trying to tell my cock she’s not my type, only the asshole has had his own idea since he saw her. It won’t last long though, it never wants any woman for long. When she offers herself to me, it’s with a contract where I hold all the control, all I have to do is sign.

*****

Chapter One

I move slowly as I put the chairs back and separate the tables in the low key coffee house. Unlike other coffee places, they not only didn’t mind us meeting here, they were always welcoming. Even though I hadn’t wanted to come today, I’m glad I did. Today’s meeting, on a breezy, bright, Saturday afternoon filled with laughter and friendly familiar faces was what I really needed.

“Holly? Are you okay?” The words come softly from Amelia as she pushes a chair into place.

I bite my tongue to keep the words inside. Amelia is a sweet girl who isn’t anything like the pampered princess I assumed she was the first time I met her at the second meeting, almost a year ago. Stumbling in on five-inch Manolo Blahnik heels, in a demure, black, Chanel skirt-suit; instantly, in reverse snobbery, I didn’t want to like her. Only it was hard not to, with her enthusiasm clear at joining her first book club. She loved the book club, which focused on thrillers and mysteries rather than highbrow literature, as more than a dozen other clubs that already existed in the city. She’s also the sweetest, nicest person I’ve ever met.

As the host of the club, I make it a point never to leave until everyone else has left. This has led to several one-on-one conversations, when it was clear Amelia lingered to talk. Sometimes, we continued talking about the book or even other members of the club. More often, we talked about the pressure she felt to be as good as her older brother, who is a partner at the law firm where she’s a second-year associate. Odd, we’re the same age, twenty-eight, yet very different. Our differences have me embarrassed to talk about it.

I shake my head, faking a smile I mean to brush off her concern, but my mouth doesn’t comply. When I open my mouth, I burst into tears. Horrified by my tears, I bury my face in my hands.

A hand is on my shoulder, rubbing lightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

She sounds distraught. Once again, I wonder if she’s for real, yet her sincerity is clear. Amelia is so sweet cotton candy wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and I feel like an ass for thinking otherwise. “No, don’t apologize. I’m the one who can’t hold it together. I was fired yesterday from a job I hate but badly needed.”

“Oh, my goodness, how awful. The horrible place you said was only one step up from a boiler room?”

“Yes, they are about to be shut down. I think they’re afraid when the SEC comes in, that I would talk. Their excuse was I didn’t finish a report I was told to do, but there was no report. Then I made things worse by dumping my boss’s coffee in his lap while calling him a sexist pig. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to use him as a reference. I’ve already been living paycheck to paycheck, there is only a few hundred left in my bank account. I don’t think I’ll last long without a job here in Chicago.”

Amelia lets out a squeal I’ve never heard from her before. “This is fate! Oh, my god!”

“What?”

“Ethan needs you! His housekeeper, life-keeper really, Cora, is quitting in three days! Man, is he mad abou

t it, but he won’t let Cora know, he adores her. He understands though, Cora is in her late sixties. She can’t keep cleaning up after him, maintaining his schedule, picking up dry cleaning and shopping. I’ve been hunting for the perfect person for him, but supposedly, I haven’t found one. Out of the five people I sent to him, he wasn’t happy with a single one. He can be a little picky. You remember me talking about him, right?”

How the hell could I forget? The guy sounds like an asshole. I know more about him from his name and face in the paper. The papers loved him and filled in the blanks she hadn’t talked about. “Yeah, you called him an obnoxious, asshole manwhore who is best taken in small doses, if at all.”

Amelia throws back her head with a tinkling laugh. “That’s Ethan. Don’t look so worried. You will only be dealing with him in small doses, and as far as the manwhore thing goes, you’re safe.”

“Because of my weight?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

A blush appears before she answers, “Yes, he’s dated every nationality out there, but he prefers a certain, um, silhouette, I guess you can say. All of them are ridiculously tall, thin, and with cover girl looks. He’ll view you as scenery and the help. Which is really what you want, his attention can be overwhelming.

I know you, you can do this. You’re a smart person, you organize this book club every month, you did the work of three secretaries for two years, and you put up with all kinds of people in book club. Ethan will be demanding, but if you do your job, and do it right, then working for him will be the best job you’ve ever had. I promise. You’re the one, and even though you never told me what you were making at your old job, I’m positive this is better.”

When she tells me the salary, I’m speechless. It’s almost double what I was making. The idea of being a glorified cleaning-woman for some rich asshole holds little appeal, and I was about to say no. Now, I’m not only considering it, I’m worried I won’t get it. “How can you be sure he’ll hire me, when he said no to five others?”

“I’m going to make him. I’m going to play the baby sister card he always uses against me. He’s going to agree to at least a six-week trial. Then, when he sees how awesome you are, you get to keep the job.” Amelia finishes with a flourish and smug smile.

My nerves start buzzing at the idea of forcing myself on Ethan Bishop. Amelia has shared her frustration of his strong, demanding ways she felt unable to challenge in the slightest. She said he treated her like a know-nothing law student, even though she had graduated from Harvard Law at the top of her class. Ethan made her frustrated to the point of considering going to another firm. He kept her tightly leashed in her position as an associate. The fact he made partner at only thirty-two, six years ago, attested to the fact the man wasn’t human. Amelia had been in awe of the hours he spent at the office, all he did was work. He freely admitted to her the women who came and went, as if his bedroom had a revolving door, were simply there as stress relievers.

Ethan Bishop’s reputation as a rainmaker in Chicago corporate and sports law, along with the fact he was gorgeous, gave him a cachet that held the attention of the public. His movements and clients were constantly reported on and gossiped about on social media. It actually helped his bad boy reputation that he was once a juvenile delinquent and had spent almost a year in detention for his long list of crimes, which included stealing a car for a joy ride and selling marijuana to his schoolmates.

Since it all happened when he was sixteen, and his brigadier general father and wealthy mother’s expensive lawyer were able to plea deal down his charges to misdemeanors, his many misdeeds didn’t hinder his ambitions to go into law. When he got out at seventeen, he did a complete turnaround. He went from failing out of private school to honor roll, graduating at nineteen. However, he made up for time by going through Penn State in only three years. He moved on to Harvard for law school, graduating magna cum lade.

Amelia adored him, following in his footsteps right into Penn State, while avoiding the bout of juvenile delinquency. I’m trying to convince myself someone as sweet as Amelia wouldn’t love a complete asshole, even if he was her big brother. “What do I do?”

“Here’s my email address, send me your resume then get a good night’s sleep, and wait for my call on Monday.” Her excitement is contagious. As I walk home, I try not to get too excited. Yet, I can’t deny I want the job, badly. I’ve already been harassed and treated like crap over the last two years by the men I’ve been working for. The same treatment coming from just one man doesn’t sound nearly as bad.

He’ll run out of fat jokes quickly, besides, they no longer bother me. After so many years of being a plus size I’ve become reconciled to my weight. I’m a size sixteen now. I’ve gone as high as a size twenty and been as low as a size ten, but that was through the use of scary drugs I refuse to use anymore. The money alone makes me want to skip home. I could afford my own place in the city. No more weirdo, flaky roommates, even if it was just a studio, it would be my own little space.