The Billionaire's Student: A BBW, Alpha Billionaire Romance (3 page)

I just needed to get my college paid for; I didn’t sign up to have my hair massacred.

Monroe patted my shoulder.

“Relax, honey. You’re in good hands. I promise you’ll love it.”

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and attempted to enjoy having my hair washed. It was always my favorite part of getting my hair cut. Having strong fingers massaging my scalp as they worked the shampoo through my hair relaxed me in a way not much else could. There was just something about lying there while someone else took charge of you.

Deciding it was a good idea if I didn’t watch Monroe as he snipped my hair with scissors, I kept my eyes closed while he worked on it. The only problem with that was that I kept imagining what horrible things he might be doing to my hair.

Still, I remained in the dark, not watching, as Monroe had his way with my hair. Even when the blow dryer started up, I didn’t open them. I didn’t want to see anything until it was done. Why make it worse?

After several minutes of drying, plus a few extra using some other accessory that I guessed was a curling iron, he announced he was finished.

“You can open your eyes now, honey. I’m all done.”

What I saw in the mirror made my mouth fall open in shock. Holy crap!

“It’s beautiful!” I gushed.

I couldn’t tell where he’d actually used the curling iron as I had naturally curly hair, but whatever he had done, it looked gorgeous. Soft curls surrounded my face and fell to my shoulders. It was a little bit shorter than I was used to, but I still loved it.

Normally, I had to struggle in order to wrestle it into some decent semblance of normalcy, but Monroe had managed to make it behave with what seemed to be minimal effort.

“Now, I’m going to send some of this product home with you. All you have to do is squirt some in your hand and then run it through your hair. If you don’t feel comfortable using an iron on the front, just style it with your fingers while you blow dry it on low. That means low heat too. It takes a little longer, but it keeps your hair from being one big frizz ball.”

He handed me the can of mousse. I’d seen the stuff in the store and wondered if it would be worth laying down the big bucks it cost. Now I knew it would. Apparently, when it came to hair products, you really did get what you paid for.

He walked over to the make-up kit and pulled out a bottle.

“Let’s see what we can do with your make-up. You don’t have any on, do you?”

I shook my head. I knew it was probably a bad idea to go to some kind of interview with no make-up on, but I was a low maintenance kind of girl, so I only wore make-up on special occasions.

“You’re going to have to get used to wearing it and putting it on properly,” Monroe admonished. “If one of Ms. Henderson’s clients accepts you, you must wear it whenever you are with him or her. Do you understand?”

I nodded meekly.

“Good. Now, let me show you how to make yourself look even more fabulous than you already do.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Monroe walked me through the process of how to diminish dark circles under my eyes, how to make them seem less puffy, the proper way to apply everything, and the best colors to use. I had to admit, when he was finished, I did look pretty good. So much so, that between the make-up and new hairdo, I barely recognized the girl who stared back at me from the mirror.

“I guess you can work miracles, Monroe.”

I hadn’t even noticed that Delilah had come back into the room. She held a green dress in her hand.

“Here.”

She shoved the dress toward me.

“Put this on. I had to guess at your size, so hopefully it will fit.”

There was a screen in the corner of the room, so I ducked behind it and changed clothes. The dress did fit…barely. It clung to my skin so tightly, it showed curves I didn’t even know I had. When I came out from behind the screen, Monroe whistled.

“Whew, sexy mama!”

I couldn’t stop the blush from spreading across my face. Sexy was not a word I’d ever use to describe myself.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Stand over there in front of the blank space on the wall.”

Delilah motioned to an area near the screen. I moved into place, and she strode over to stand in front of me. I didn’t notice the camera she held until she raised it in front of her face.

“Do try your best to look alluring,” she said.

What I really wanted to do was smack that smug look right off her face. Instead, I did my best to smile and hide the murderous thoughts swirling around my brain. Who did she think she was anyway? Just because she was stick-model thin didn’t make her any better than me.

“That’ll do,” she said after taking a few pictures. “We’re done now. You are to take the dress home with you in case you get called for an interview with one of our clients. Ms. Henderson will expect you to wear it.”

She smiled maliciously.

“I wouldn’t expect a call though, if I were you. Our clients are rather…picky.”

She stalked out of the room, and I resisted the urge to pick up a nearby vase and throw it at the back of her retreating head.

“Don’t mind her,” Monroe said. “She suffers from stick disease.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Stick disease?”

“Yeah, you know…she perpetually has a stick up her ass.”

I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it. It was probably the first time I’d laughed since losing my parents.

“Thanks for that.”

“My pleasure.”

I strode back behind the screen and changed back into my clothes. Grabbing the hangar and plastic garment bag Delilah had left behind, I covered the green dress and got ready to leave.

“Don’t forget what I showed you,” Monroe gently chided.

“I won’t. Thanks again.”

If nothing else came of this, at least I knew how to make myself more presentable for job interviews. If this fell through, I had a feeling I’d be going to a lot of those.

3
.

I sat on my bed in my dorm room, the day’s newspaper that I’d swiped from the Commons in my hands. It had been a week since I visited Carrington Acquisitions, and I’d not heard from them. Sighing, I circled another ad that started at minimum wage.

Unfortunately, with just one year of college under my belt, I wasn’t qualified for any job that paid more. After I finished looking at the want ads, I was going to check to see if there were any ads for people needing roommates to share rent and utilities with. The end of the semester was coming up fast, and if I didn’t find a job soon, I’d be homeless.

The buzzing of my cell phone interrupted my search for a place to work. “Hello?”

“Ms. Darling, this is Delilah.”

Well of course it was. I’d recognize that snooty tone anywhere.

“Yes?”

“You have an interview tomorrow at 5pm with Mr. Jace Weatherton. Ms. Henderson wanted me to remind you to wear the green dress. And don’t be late. Mr. Weatherton is quite a stickler for punctuality.”

She gave me the address and disconnected.

My heart fluttered in my chest, and I laid the paper on the desk that separated my bed from that of my roommate. Maybe I wouldn’t need the classifieds after all.

***

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

I turned the key again, but all I heard was a pathetic whining sound. The engine refused to catch. I checked my watch. I was going to be late. This was not good. I jumped out of my car and ran back into the dorm. Luckily, my roommate, Mandy, planned to stay in and study for the night.

“I thought you’d left for your interview,” she said as she looked up from her World History book.

“I did, but my car won’t start. Can I borrow yours?”

She screwed up her face and chewed on her bottom lip.

“I don’t know, Katie. My dad told me to never let anyone else drive my car.”

I tried not to let my impatience and frustration show. I knew she let her friends drive her car all the time.

“Please, Mandy, this is important. This interview could decide whether or not I get to stay in school.”

She sighed. “Okay, I guess I can let you borrow it just this once.”

I shuffled from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to hurry her up as she dragged herself off the bed and loped over to her desk to rummage through her purse.

“Now where are they?”

After what seemed like forever she pulled them from the bottom of her purse and tossed then to me.

“Here you go. Now be careful!”

“I will!” I shouted as I ran down the dorm corridor. I knew without looking at my watch that I was late. I hoped that I hadn’t botched the interview before I even arrived.

***

When I pulled up to the gate bearing the address I’d been given, I marveled at the fact that I couldn’t even see the house from where my car sat. Huge trees lined the drive that curved up a hill and disappeared around a curve. I could see a large green expanse of closely trimmed lawn and quite a few beds of colorful flowers.

Rolling down the window, I hit the buzzer attached to an intercom beside the gate.

“Yes?”

“My name is Katie Darling. Ms. Henderson sent me for an interview.”

After a moment of anxious silence, the voice in the box squawked, “You may leave your car in front of the house.”

The gate trundled open, each heavy side rolling open with surprising quietness. I drove my car through them and surveyed the beautiful grounds as I approached the house. When it finally came into view, my mouth gaped open.
Holy crap!
I could probably have fit at least fifty, if not more, of my parents’ old house into the mansion that sprawled before me. Talk about some serious money.

I did as instructed and parked the car on the drive in front of the lavish door which marked the front entrance to the house. Windows surrounded both sides and the top, but they were frosted to maintain privacy. Instead of the expected doorbell, there was a heavy brass door knocker attached to the bright, red door. I lifted it and slammed it against the door three times, hearing the echo booming inside the house as I did so.

The door opened quickly to reveal a butler attired in formal uniform, complete with tails. His lips pursed in distaste at the sight of Mandy’s car. I cringed. If her car made him look that way, I’d hate to see how he’d react to my several years older clunker.

“Come in please.”

I followed him into a large entry way with a marbled tile floor and rich, wooden walls which were adorned with ornate mirrors and framed art that probably cost more than I would make in my lifetime.

“Wait here while I see if Mr. Weatherton is ready for you.”

I nodded and stood still while he disappeared down the hall. As each second ticked by, I felt more and more anxious. I didn’t belong in this fancy hall of this hulking mansion, and I could see my future at college fading away.

The butler walked so quietly that I didn’t realize he’d returned until he spoke, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“He will see you now. Follow me.”

He led me down the hall and around a bend until we reached a set of large wooden double doors. Motioning me forward, the butler opened one of the massive doors, and I stepped inside.

The room was smaller than I expected, but no less lavish because of it. No ornate mirrors adorned the walls here. Instead, the room held floor to ceiling mirrored display cases full of various trophies and pictures on one side wall and a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with books on the other. 

A long, leather couch sat against the wall beside the door, and a glass and gold coffee table sat in front of it. On the far side of the room, in front of a desk, sat two brown leather chairs that matched the sofa.

The desk was massive and made of a rich, dark wood. However, no matter how impressive the room was, nothing in it held a candle to the man sitting behind the desk. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on and quite a bit younger than I was expecting. Thick waves of blonde hair just brushed the tops of his broad shoulders. I instantly wanted to run my fingers through it.

A chiseled jaw and classic cheekbones complimented his handsome face and gave him a bit of a rugged look. He appeared to be immersed in a pile of papers lying in front of him on his desk. I hesitantly approached.

Without looking up he ordered, “Sit. I will be with you in a minute.”

The tone of his voice sent a startling shiver through me. This was a man who was used to people following his orders. The authoritative tone brooked no disobedience.

I perched on the edge of the chair on the right and tugged at the hem of my dress. The shortness of it bothered me. It didn’t seem appropriate for an interview, but Ms. Henderson had insisted.

I twisted the strap of my purse in my hands as I waited. When he finally looked up, and my eyes met the piercing blue of his, my breath caught in my throat. The intensity in them intimidated me.

“You’re late, Ms. Darling.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” My voice cracked. “My car wouldn’t start, and I had to borrow my roommate’s.”

He gestured with his hand as if brushing my reasoning away.

“I’m a busy man, Ms. Darling. I expect promptness.”

“Yes, sir. I understand that. I can promise it won’t happen again.”

He remained quiet for a moment, and his eyes wandered down my body. I had a sudden irrational feeling that he was undressing me with his eyes. Surely I was imagining things?

“Ms. Henderson tells me you’ve recently lost your parents.”

“Yes, they were killed in a car accident just after the first of the year.”

“Thus you have no way to pay for the rest of your education.”

“That’s true.”

He tapped the pen he’d been holding against the smooth surface of the desk.

“Stand up.”

His command took me by surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

Sighing heavily, he ran a hand through his thick hair.

“Ms. Darling, I don’t have the patience for you to question my every request. If you can’t follow a simple instruction, you are wasting my time.”

With my heart hammering in my chest, I stood. Once again, his eyes wandered over my body. I felt a strange tingling between my legs. Why did the way he looked at me affect me so?

“Turn around and walk to the door and then walk back to where you stand.”

I hesitated for a split second, confusion filling me. What did walking have to do with being an assistant? Placing my purse down in the chair, I did as instructed. Even though I couldn’t see him, I could feel his eyes heavy on me as I walked toward the door.

When I turned to walk back toward him, I shivered when I realized he was watching the way my breasts bounced when I moved. When his eyes met mine again, I could’ve sworn I saw a moment of hunger before they returned to ice. It couldn’t have been true. There was no way a man like Mr. Weatherton would see anything interesting in a curvy girl like me.

“You may sit.”

Picking up my purse, I once again perched on the edge of the chair. I couldn’t hold the weight of his heavy gaze, and I let my eyes fall to my lap.

“Working for me will not be easy. I’m a hard taskmaster, and I will expect you to do exactly what I say. Your main duties will include keeping up with my schedule, screening my calls while I’m working at home, typing whatever I need, and taking care of other needs as they arise. Basically, you will be at my beck and call.

“On school days, I will expect you to be here at 5pm sharp unless you have a night class. If need be, we will work around those nights. During the summer, you will work all day. In return for working for me, your college tuition will be paid. Room and board, outside of your lunches, will not be needed as you will reside here in the house. You will receive a small weekly stipend for personal needs.

“I will have a contract sent to your school. If you sign and return it, I will expect you to report to work at 8am the morning after your last final exam. Harold will work out the details of moving in with you.”

I couldn’t believe what I heard. Had he just offered me the job?

“Thank you,” I stammered.

I started to rise but he held up a hand.

“One other thing. You were late.”

I stared at him, confused. Hadn’t we already covered this?

“I have found that if I let my employees get away with even the tiniest infraction, they will continue to test my limits. Therefore, I cannot abide your lateness without there being a consequence.”

I gulped. There was something about the way he looked at me that set me on edge.

“Consequence? Like docking my first pay check?”

He smiled, and I shivered at the cruel curve of his lips.

“Not quite. I had something more
immediate
in mind.”

He rose and walked around the huge desk.

“Get up, Ms. Darling.”

Hesitantly, I stood. What immediate consequence could he possibly be thinking of?

“Turn to face the desk, lift your dress, and take down your panties.”

“I’m sorry?”

My voice cracked and the words came out in a stutter.

His eyes glinted in the light as he stared at me.

“Just how badly do you wish to continue college? Ms. Henderson will not send you on another interview. Now, turn!”

The commanding tone of his voice instinctively made me want to do what he said. I swallowed nervously and turned to face the desk. Just what had I gotten myself into? I hiked the green dress up over my curvy hips and hooked my fingers in the waistband of my pantyhose and panties.

For the briefest moment, I wondered why I wasn’t walking out the door, but I knew the answer. I needed him to pay for my college. And if I was being honest with myself, something about the situation had caused my heart to race, and it wasn’t fear.

I slid the undergarments down past my ass, and I heard him suck in a breath. “That’s good enough. Now bend over the desk with your arms in front of you, palms facing down.”

I risked a look behind me. The heated hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Mr. Weatherton?”

“Bend over, Ms. Darling.”

Filled with trepidation and something else I dared to say was anticipation, I did as instructed. The wood of the desk felt cool beneath my arms as I bent over, exposing my bare ass even more in this position. I could feel his presence behind me, weighing me down.

“Lay your cheek on the desk.”

I rested my head on the desk’s surface, my heart thundering in my chest. As I looked to the side, I realized I could see us in the mirrors of the display cases lining the walls. Mr. Weatherton stood still behind me, staring down at my exposed ass.

I thought if I could just catch his eyes in the mirror, maybe I could stop whatever madness had possessed him. “Mr. Weatherton—please…” I started to beg him, to plead with him not to continue, but I couldn’t get the words out. His eyes never moved from my bare ass.