The Billionaire’s Housekeeper

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Blurb:

A BWWM, billionaire, marriage of convenience romance book. Canadian housekeeper Rita Brooks is in a bit of a panic… As the paparazzi circle around the mansion where she works, her secret immigration status hangs in the balance, threatening her entire livelihood

But her employer, billionaire George Ainsworth, suddenly gives her an offer she can’t refuse… By marrying him, she can avoid having to leave America! George had always seen Rita as a friend and a great employee, and is happy to have her more in his life…

But their arranged marriage begins to blur the lines, adding a new layer of complexity to his already complicated life. Is he making a mistake in falling for his housekeeper? Or will they find a way to make their marriage of convenience into the real deal? Find out in this marriage of convenience romance story by Kiana Campbell.

Chapter 1

George Ainsworth wasn’t used to being alone. It was going to take some time for him to come to terms with that. Falling in love in college, getting married, starting his career right away and earning more in a week than most people would in several years. Now he was sitting alone on one of the many balconies of his mansion.

The house appeared to be a lot more spacious now that Julie had left and taken some of her things with her. Divorce was never easy, but being in a loveless marriage was even more difficult.

With all the money, power, and parties over the years, Julie had grown cold and distant. She manipulated the people around her in order to get anything she wanted. She was a debutante, and the daughter of a wealthy banker. She had always been spoiled, but her heart had softened when she met George in their junior year at University.

Over time, her childish tantrums and controlling nature froze her heart back up, and now George’s heart was hardened. Ice and stone was not a good mix.

No, George Ainsworth was not used to being alone. Not in such a large house. Not without all the parties. The only people to keep him company were his staff, and the paparazzi outside trying to get a story about the divorce.

“Mr. Ainsworth?”

That made George jump. He was reflecting on the last few years of his life, feeling 70 instead of 29, and he hadn’t heard the soft tapping on the door.

His housekeeper Rita came in with a silver tray on a trolley. On it were a few slices of toast, some shortbread, butter, and a small kettle for tea.

“Rita, you startled me,” George said, clearing his throat. He hadn’t asked for breakfast, but he could tell that Beatrice was worried about him. George was constantly busy and had a habit of forgetting to eat until Beatrice made something for him and Rita brought it in.

“I’m sorry,” Rita said. She picked up the tray and set it on a small table next to George. He was sitting on the balcony of his former wife’s art studio. The room was completely bare except for a few tables and some empty bookshelves. Rita couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. George looked as if he were in mourning no matter what color he wore. He had on a black shirt under his butter yellow sweater. His legs were crossed, and he stared at the gardens below.

Rita felt as if he was looking beyond the gardens. In his own sort of Jay Gatsby way, he was searching for the green light that Julie must have possessed somewhere over the estate walls. She shook the thought away, and George turned to look at her for a moment. He caught her looking at him, but when she stopped her imagination from going overboard, she turned to leave.

“Rita?” George asked.

“Yes, Mr. Ainsworth,” Rita said.

“Would you sit with me for a while?” George had never really stopped to have proper conversations with Rita. He worked constantly, but he was always nice to her whenever they did get around to speaking. Rita was usually quiet around him, and Julie kept her busy.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stay for too long, Beatrice needs me in the kitchen to help with lunch, and I have some things to do in the garden before I head to town to go shopping. Do you have a list of things for me to get?”

“Sh*t,” George said. Rita tried her best to stifle a smile. Whenever George did speak to her, there was usually a swear word coming out of his mouth. He was always frustrated with someone at work, or something he had read in the paper, but hearing him swear always made her laugh because she knew a joke was coming next. George could never stay too angry for long; not even at Julie. Rita could tell he was truly frustrated when he would sit alone, silently, legs crossed, and ruminating.

“Julie always makes up the shopping list. I have no idea what to get. What do you think I should get?” George asked in a voice filled with panic. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. His gray green eyes swirled in confusion.

Rita laughed. Her mouth widened, revealing her white teeth that countered her beautiful dark skin.

“Well, I think you should get…food,” Rita said still laughing. That made George laugh too. He relaxed his shoulders a bit. He didn’t notice he was so tense, until he felt so free just laughing.

He listened to the gentle change in tone of Rita’s accent. George knew she grew up in Montreal, but they hadn’t had enough long conversations for him to have picked up on her accent. There were some words that sounded more French than English, and that made the sound of her laughter more magical. It was like her accent traveled from her words to the way she giggled.

Rita’s laughter distracted him from the things on his mind. George’s thoughts were swimming in circles around a single word: Alone. It was still such a difficult concept for him to grasp. When he wasn’t living with his parents, he was away at college, and then right after that he was married. It was strange now for him to really have to take care of himself without someone looking out for him. Left to himself he would be at work constantly and would possibly even die of starvation without realizing it.

“How long have you been working with us, Rita?” the question sounded strange even to George. He almost corrected himself because he had said ‘us’ as if Julie was still at the mansion living with them. He thought better of it and waited for Rita to respond. He fixated his eyes on her face; from her high cheekbones, to her dark almond shaped eyes, to her heart shaped lips, to the way her dark skin glowed in various lights. His eyes moved about her features, but they didn’t linger on one spot for too long so that his gaze would make her feel self-conscious.

Rita was admittedly taken aback by the question. This was the longest they had stopped to just chat before. George cracked the occasional joke during times of frustration, or he would ask for Rita to do him a favor since he was stuck on his phone or laptop at home working. This was the first time that he talked and asked her anything about herself.

“Oh, about three years, Mr. Ainsworth,” Rita said. She clasped her hands in front of her and nervously began to twiddle her thumbs. She wasn’t sure where her shyness was coming from.

“Ahh, I see,” George said. He opened his mouth for a second. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then thought better of it.

“I don’t want to keep you, Rita.”

“I’d better get down to the kitchen,” Rita said at the same time.

They both smiled at each other, but Rita avoided making eye contact by looking down.

George turned his eyes toward the garden again, looking pensive. Rita thought that he must have been so heartbroken. He had slowly become this pensive and almost stone like person over the few years that she had known him. She wanted to offer words of encouragement, or at least try to say something that may cheer him up, but no words were coming to her either. She curtsied and turned to leave.

“Try to have a good day,” George said stiffly. If humor wasn’t involved, he was finding it hard to be a warm person.

“Yes, Mr. Ainsworth,” Rita replied softly.