A Very Bad Billionaire (BWWM Contemporary Romance Novel) (5 page)

She didn’t reply to me. Instead, she stared at the ground as she nervously her foot up and down while she chewed her nails. I continued grilling her.

“I just want you to know that it is my policy to not hire anyone that has a felony on their record. If the background check had been run as it should have been, you would have never been offered the position.”

“So what are you saying? Am I fired?”

“What I’m saying is that, if this information is right, you never should have been hired in the first place. I’m assuming that you’re going to dispute the report since you checked the box that says you’ve never been convicted of a felony?”

“No, I’m not going to dispute it.”

“So it’s true then? You were arrested for passing a bad check for an amount greater than $1,000?”

“No!” She lunged forward in her chair before sighing and falling back into the thickly padded leather chair. “I mean, yes, I was, but it wasn’t exactly like that. I wasn’t trying to steal or nothing like that.”

“What do you mean you weren’t attempting to steal? You don’t accidentally write a check for a large amount when you know you don’t have the money in the bank to pay for it. What concerns me the most is the fact that you have access to so much sensitive information while working in my house—specifically my office. If you’ve been arrested for charges that are tantamount to fraud, I have to assume that you’d have no problem stealing from me.”

“You’re wrong, I ain’t no thief,” she spoke through clenched teeth. “I did it for my dad and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I really don’t need this shit from you. Just tell me if you’re firing me or not so I can get the hell out of here.” It was obvious she was wearing thin.
Good, I almost have her to her breaking point.
That’s when you find out the most about people; when they’re worn down, beaten. I pressed on.

“What I’m trying to do, Natalia, is figure out if there’s some reason I shouldn’t fire you for this. I mean,” I laughed for a second, “I want you to keep your job. You said you did it for your dad? I want you to help me understand the situation. Tell me why I shouldn’t fire your ass and throw you out on the street right now because I’m tired of playing your games. You thought you were hot shit talking to me in the kitchen like that, didn’t you?” I narrowed my eyes, focusing on her face, “Well, you’re not,” I hissed.

“Fine, I’ll tell you,” her watery eyes flickered as she tried to blink away the tears. “It’s really hard for me to talk about, but I need this job so I’ll tell you why that’s on my background check. My dad was sick. He had developed lung cancer, but he refused to let us kids see how bad he was doing. We did everything we could to try to help him. We got him into this really nice nursing home, but he refused to go. He was a very independent man and didn’t want to give that up. We begged and pleaded with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said he didn’t need nobody to take care of him. When we realized he wasn’t going to go into the nursing home, we accepted the fact that we’d have to keep an eye on him. My sister even moved onto the same block as him so she was nearby. She basically became his caregiver.”

She stopped for a moment and looked up at me. I could tell the conversation was hard on her, but I needed to hear the story behind the charge. She continued telling me about her dad.

“Despite all the different treatments he tried, he kept getting sicker and sicker. One night, he was having so much trouble breathing that my sister took him to the hospital. The doctor did a chest x-ray and saw that his lung cancer had significantly progressed. My sister was told that my dad had about a month to live—at the most and that he’d likely die well before the month was up. The doctor tried to admit him into the hospital so they could keep him comfortable, but that man was stubborn as all get out. He said if he was gonna die, he didn’t want to do it in some hospital bed. They didn’t have any choice so they sent him home. It was about two weeks after that when my sister called me crying. My dad’s landlord had been banging on the door that morning. As his caregiver, my sister was supposed to have been handling his finances and paying his bills. Instead, she’d been using the money for her own personal benefit and blew through every monthly social security check he got. I called the landlord and told him that my dad was dying and there must have been some mix-up, but he didn’t care. He said the only choices we had was to catch up the rent payments or have dad out within 24 hours. I didn’t have the money to pay it and I know my sister didn’t have any money, but what I did have was a checkbook. I wrote the check for almost $1,200 knowing that it wasn’t going to clear. I also knew that it would take a couple weeks before the landlord found out about it. I knew my dad wasn’t going to live much longer so I wrote the check. I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but it bought my dad enough time to die with dignity and peace. He died a week later in his home instead of homeless on the street and he didn’t have to know what my sister had done. I couldn’t live with myself if my dad knew how she’d done him while on his death bed.”

Natalia had tears rolling down her cheeks. It was a sad story that even managed to tug at my heartstrings. After hearing her reasoning for the charge, I questioned whether or not I should let her go. On one hand, that’s our policy. I’ve passed on several high-quality applicants in the past because they had a record. On the contrary, this was the only thing on her record and, had it not been for her dying father, her record would have been as clean as they come. Plus there was still the fact that she’d seen my dirty laundry. Firing her might send her running to the open arms of the press for extra cash. The last thing I need is a disgruntled employee blabbing her mouth, ruining my reputation, but her blatantly lying makes me wonder. It’s not like she wasn’t aware what was on her record.

“I’m very sorry to hear about your dad Natalia. I’m going to have to think on this for a little bit before I make my final decision. You can go ahead and get back to work for now and I’ll come find you when I’ve made up my mind.”

§

There was no way I could fire her. I’m a dick, but I still have somewhat of a heart, and if she hadn’t told by now, there was the likelihood that she wouldn’t. Besides, I had a lot of other things on my mind. I was staring at the initials I had placed on my calendar. A large TP written in black marker. The TP stood for The Phoenix, which I’m supposed to be at next Friday night. They do a couple of big functions every month and next week was one of the biggest of the year. Last year’s had been wild and I’ve been looking forward to this year’s for weeks. The problem is that I’m worried about going now since I know someone’s trying to blackmail me and thanks to my snooping housekeeper, I now have to worry about multiple people.

Not only was next Friday such a big event, but one woman in particular that I’d had my eye on was supposed to be there as well. With everything unfolding around me, there was no way I could risk hooking up with a new woman—not yet anyway. As much as I couldn’t wait to be in the club, I was worried that I was going to get busted. Even if Natalia didn’t say anything about the pictures to anyone, that didn’t mean that whoever was trying to ruin me wouldn’t be around. The photos I got in the mail had been taken from inside the club. That meant that whoever it was had to be a member of our little secret society. How did I know they wouldn’t be there again to discreetly snap some more shots of me?

If you think about it, it was really brilliant on their part—whoever they were. They could have taken pictures of me at any time while I was in the club, but they waited until I was slamming my cock into some chick in the underground sex lounge. When I’m getting my dick wet, I don’t notice anything else going on around me. Who the hell does? They had to wait until the most opportune time, which meant they might have been following me around all night—or for multiple nights I’d been in the club. Could it have been a girl that I’d been with before? I couldn’t think of any that I had sent away on bad terms. The whole thing was driving me crazy. I really wanted to go to the club to see if I could do a little investigating. As much as I wanted to go for the sexual escapades, it was more important that I find out who had taken the pictures and, more importantly, why. One major problem I have is my self-control. It’d be so damn hard to keep my cock from bursting through the zipper of my jeans. With all those beautiful ladies on display, I knew I’d have a hard time keeping my hands to myself. I needed someone to keep me in check. I needed someone there with me to make sure I stayed on the straight and narrow. Suddenly, it dawned on me. I’d find out exactly how willing my new housekeeper was to keep her new job and my dirty little secrets.

I called down to Bailey and asked her to send Natalia to my office. While I waited for her, I tried to formulate what I was going to say to her. As she entered the room, I stood up from behind my desk and asked her to close the door behind her.

“I appreciate how open, honest and candid you were with me. It really says a lot about you. I wanted to do the same thing and be open, honest and frank with you because I’ve got a proposition for you.” Her head cocked to the side as she tried to figure out what I was talking about. “I feel like we’ve started out very wrong. This has been your first week working for me and I wanted to talk to you about the pictures you found on my desk.”

“This again? I told you I ain’t for sale. I don’t care about those pictures and I ain’t gonna tell nobody about them. Why are you still bringing them up?”

“Let me say this right now, and hear me out. I believe you when you say you won’t tell anyone about them. I really do, and to answer your question about why we’re still discussing them, it’s because I can see the way you’ve looked at me since you found the pictures. It’s a look of disgust and angst. I get that. When you first met me, after I came back from my business meeting this morning, you seemed bright and chipper. Now, you seem bogged down, burdened. You probably think I’m a pervert who has his own cameraman taking pics while in the middle of doing the deed. I want you to know that’s not the case, and to prove it I’ll need your help.”

“How are you gonna tell me that’s not the case? I have seen the pictures with my own eyes. There’s no way that the woman knew those pictures were being taken unless she’d agreed to it for however much you offered to pay her. I’ve seen stories on TV about sickos like you who pay women absurd amounts of money to have sex with them while being ‘secretly’ filmed or whatever. And what do you mean you need
my
help? I’m not that kind of girl.”

“You’re right about that—that she probably has no clue those photos exist. Up until this morning, I didn’t know they existed either. You’ve got me all wrong, Natalia. I’d never pay someone to take pictures of me or record me with various women. Do you know how much that would ruin my reputation?”

“What does that mean? How could you not know they existed?”

“Here’s the truth of the situation. The place in the photos is a private sex club. It’s a place that I go to a couple times a month to let loose and have a little fun. It’s a very select club and only particular people know of its existence. Those pictures were taken a couple of weeks ago when I was there. A courier delivered them to me near the crack of dawn the day that you found them. I didn’t put them away in my safe or destroy them because I was planning on taking them to the club owners. There was an unsettling short note inside that envelope, along with the photos. To make a long story short, these pictures are an attempt to blackmail me. I just don’t know what the end game is yet.”

“So you’re telling me that your chosen form of entertainment is to go to an underground sex club, but you’re not a pervert? Sounds like one to me.”

Damn, she’s a fucking tough cookie. It takes a lot for her to crumble.
And this is precisely why I need her on my side. “I’m not a pervert in the sense that I would take secret pictures of an unsuspecting woman. I’ve done some questionable things in my time, but that’s one thing I would never do.”

“Okay, so why are you telling me all this? I don’t get it.”

“You’ve got what it takes. I can—“

“What do you mean I’ve got what it takes? Takes for what?” she cut me off.

“You opened up to me about your father and I felt like I owed it to you to tell you the truth about what you saw. I certainly passed judgment about you after seeing your record, but you’ve shown me that I need to follow my own advice, so here’s where I need your help.”

“Kaiden, I find you to be a very cocky, brash man. I’ve felt that way from the minute you walked in the door and handed me your jacket instead of shaking my hand. Regardless of what I think about you, if I’m allowed to keep this job, I will handle myself in a professional manner. This entire conversation was unnecessary.”

“You’re right. I can come off as cocky and brash. That’s just who I am. Believe it or not, a lot of women find that to be an attractive trait. The conversation is very necessary. Do you or do you not want to keep your job?”

“Yes, I need the job very badly.”

“Good. The club in the pictures is having one of its biggest parties of the year next week. Whoever was taking those photos of me has to be someone inside the club. I want to go and see if I can spot anyone suspicious.”