Victoria The Billionaires Maid

I planned to fuck her until she screamed my name, and I wouldn’t care if the entire hotel heard her. Damn, I almost felt like busting another one, but I knew I had to get downstairs soon. I’d invited these people here to audition for a prize. Whoever won the contract would end up with their restaurant in a Courtland Hospitality Group hotel, and that alone was worth six figures. I could carry on with extracurricular stuff after the business was handled. I didn’t get where I was in life by having a one-track mind. I could fuck the memories of Kenzie right out of me, while also finding the best fit for the CHG Seaport. Whether it would be her, remained to be seen, and it would be separate from anything else we did together.

I kept that in mind as I got out of the shower and dried off. I stayed in just my towel as I brushed my teeth and combed my hair back. Afterward, I discarded the towel and got dressed. The pounding in my skull had disappeared with the earlier racing of my heart, and I smirked. There wasn’t anything in life that an orgasm wouldn’t cure. I’d add masturbation to the growing list of hangover remedies.

Once I was fully dressed, I scrolled down my contact list and placed a call. As soon as it connected, I spoke, “Is everyone downstairs already, Oliver?”

“All except for two, and I’ve told them to pack their bags,” he answered.

Oliver already knew I needed to weed down this list of twenty candidates, so now there would be just eighteen more to go. “I’m on my way down. Have some coffee ready for me.” I then remembered the hangover I woke up with and a cure my friends swore by. “And a banana.”

I grabbed my briefcase and left the room to work on other CHG work while the cooking competitions carried on. Outside of planning to sample everything served, I had neither the desire nor time to stand over them and micromanage everything the chefs did. After hearing that two had left the competition, something made me think about Kenzie and how she mentioned quitting the night before. It would be a shame if she did leave, but it didn’t mean I still couldn’t put the moves on her if she had. I could also let her go, and chalk it up as a “been there, done that” life lesson.

I arrived downstairs and the ballroom had been converted into multiple workstations. There were to be twenty small kitchens, and as my eyes skimmed the room, I realized the two that had left were chefs I’d briefly interacted with the night before as I was leaving the rooftop. Kenzie was still there, and as my eyes narrowed on her, I smirked. She looked a lot different than she had the night before. While she’d tested the limits of my restraint with her sexy outfits, today she looked a lot more like she did when we were in high school.

I ignored the bun she’d pulled her hair into, and focused on the T-shirt which clung to her full breasts. My gaze traveled lower and she was wearing a pair of loose yoga pants. She was moving back and forth between the stove and the counter where she appeared to be prepping something. Her friend was right beside her, and the two worked together like a well-oiled machine. I finally turned away from them and moved to the empty table in the front.NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

A few minutes later, I had my laptop powered on and the plans for the Seattle location were already pulled up. There’d been some issues with a potential permit, so I focused on it, only turning away when my coffee and banana were set down in front of me. I was all business, but if things went well tonight, it’d be playtime, and I knew which toy I wanted. As a Titan, I always got what I wanted. With that thought in mind, I grinned and began humming as I scanned over the permit issue and fired off a few email responses.

Kenzie’s [POV]

I’d had a fitful night of sleep, all thanks to Jonas Courtland. I didn’t know why I was even allowing myself to think about him at all, but I tossed and turned until early morning as thoughts of him consumed me. They ranged from wanting to fall back into the same trap I once had and relive prom night with him, to mainly committing homicide.

I finally managed to make it through the night, and when I left the room and showed up downstairs early, I was glad to not see any sign of him. Knowing Jonas, he was likely shacked up in his room with some female whose name he would forget when the sun rose in the sky. I didn’t care. It wasn’t jealousy I was feeling. I hated him, and others could have him. I only needed this contract long term, and in the immediate short term, this cup of coffee. I’d inhaled three of them before Reece joined me.

“All ready for these challenges?” she’d asked me.

I nodded. If she only knew the full story. I kept my plans for Jonas Courtland to myself, then we waited as others eventually joined us. All but two chefs arrived, and I knew this competition was getting serious if they were already gone before they could crack an egg or boil a pot of water. I wouldn’t worry about others. I used to have an unhealthy fascination with reality television, and I knew people formed alliances on those shows. They ended up focusing on outside drama than whatever they’d been brought there to do. I wouldn’t fall into the same trap, so I ignored everyone else and took notes along with Reece when Oliver started talking.

I noticed Jonas had still not come downstairs yet, and hopeful it might mean he wouldn’t be the judge, after all, I had allowed myself to calm down. As soon as I was settled, he emerged, looking just as hot in the daylight as he had under the moonlit skies.

“Just my fucking luck,” I muttered under my breath, earning a snicker from Reece.

She was thrilled to see him, and I knew why. Reece had talked me into giving this man a payback and knowing that most of my friend’s plans ended in disaster, I should’ve politely pointed that out and moved on. I was an obvious glutton for punishment because, after a second and third thought, I wanted to make him pay for what he’d done to me. In the end, I’d likely lose my contract for a restaurant, but if I could make him suffer for the first time in his entitled life, I would risk it. Knowing that set me on edge. Why was I still giving him the power to destroy me, especially knowing I’d only be destroying myself in the process?

I did force those thoughts from my head and settled into a routine. Today, we had two different challenges, one timed and the other untimed. During each of them, I occasionally glanced over at Jonas who appeared deep in concentration on whatever was so intriguing on his laptop.

It could be business, but knowing him as I did, I wouldn’t even be surprised if it was porn. After all, he was quite nifty with a damn video camera.

As those memories resurfaced, I almost wished I knew what plate he would be trying so I could poison him, or at least send him to the bathroom for a while. His suffering didn’t have to be permanent. It just needed to happen so I could what?

As that question lingered in my head, I realized there was no true satisfaction in that. He’d send me home, and nothing would change.

He would continue to grace the city’s society pages and I would be back to prepping meals for soap opera actresses and models, and he’d be sleeping his way into the Guinness Book of World Records.

I eventually stopped thinking about him and focused on the food. After four years at the University of Nebraska, I had gone to Europe for a whole year of cooking lessons. I learned the tricks of the trades from those French pastry chefs, perfecting macarons that were light, yet chewy and a popular item for catered events.

I had then trained in Italy, learning how to marry certain flavor combinations together to create something comforting, but with a modern twist. There were also lessons in Spain, Germany, and even Switzerland.

If I did manage to land this contract, I wanted to make sure to incorporate everything I learned, while also highlighting the plentiful ingredients found locally. For that reason, I intended to serve several seafood dishes and farm-quality classics.