Maid for Hire & Educating Australia (2 page)

She simmered down. It wasn't right for one person to have the power of life and death in their hands. She turned and finished her task, once more feeling a cold hand cover her butt and give a rough squeeze. She jumped and the office erupted in laughter. She held control over her temper as she walked away.

Mr. Olander waved her into his office.

"This is Mr. Drake Masters." She could barely look at him. "Can she get you anything?"

"No." His voice held hostility, not the warmth he had shown in the park.

"Well then, Nefertiti I need you pick up that pencil." His eyes lingered on her breasts.

"What pencil?" There were no pencils on the floor. He took one from the pencil holder and tossed it on the floor.

"That pencil."

She started to stoop to pick it up "Ah, ah," he shook his head no. "The way I told you."

She bent over instead. She was sure Mr. Masters had full view of her behind while Mr. Olander had a good view of her breasts. She returned the pencil to the holder.

"She's good at service," he said. "Although I think she needs a new uniform." He stood and closed the small distance between them before turning her to face Mr. Masters. "She's a B-cup wouldn't you say?" He put his hands over her breasts and she tried to pull away. "I can return you," he said once more and she settled down. He applied firm pressure to both breasts and she felt her fingers curl into a ball. "I tell you what; I'll give you one million and her for Transtec."

"I am not a whore!" She pulled away from him.

He grabbed her cheeks between his finger and his thumb and violently pulled her to him. "Would you like to go home?"

She knew exactly what he meant. She couldn't go home, but she wouldn't allow this either. She would run away. She could live on the street like the man she had seen when she took the bus on rainy days.

"Pull down your top and show him what he's getting."

She jerked away. "No!" He raised his hand to hit her and she flinched. She wasn't sure why she hadn't felt the pain of being backhanded until she opened her eyes and saw Mr. Masters holding back Mr. Olander's arm.

"No damaged goods, huh?" He chuckled.

"She's a virgin and that plus the money should be enough."

"I'm going to tell you how this is going to go down. She's coming with me. I'm not selling you the company and you're giving her whatever money you promised her, and then some."

"And what do I get."

"Your freedom," he pulled out his identification and when he flipped it open she knew, he was law enforcement. She was in trouble now.

"I'm Border Patrol and I can take you in now, or you can agree to my terms."

"She's legal. I'm sponsoring..."

"A sex slave? I don't think so. Don't forget, you just tried to sell her to me."

She wondered which man had the stronger will, which would prevail, but she didn't wonder for long. Mr. Olander stepped back. "I knew you’d be too much trouble." He punched in three numbers and hit the speaker button.

"Cable," came the voice.

"Cabe, get Nefertiti a check for a hundred thousand..."

She saw Mr. Masters shake his head.

"Five hundred thousand dollars please. She's leaving us. Call the bank and be sure the check can be cashed today."

Great, she had money and freedom, but they would send her back to Israel she was sure. What good would money do her then?

"I'll need the keys to the town home."

"I need my things I brought with me."

"Fine, I'll..."

"No. She'll get them. She'll leave the key under the mat."

"The clothes aren't yours. Be sure to leave them."

She hadn't been able to bring many clothes of her own. She had only been allowed out of the country because she had been listed as a weeklong traveler. She had taken enough clothing for that trip only. She had taken only one photo of her family and a small camera and film. She had already shot several rolls of film of her family. Lucky for her security hadn't checked her film containers or they would have known the rolls of film had already been shot. They had only checked the camera which only had a couple exposed negatives, the suitcase and her travel documents before she was allowed to board the plane.

She hadn't been shopping since she arrived. The Olander's had prepared the closet with jeans and sweaters. She saw no reason to try to find a clothing store since she seemed to fit in whenever she went out. They had picked public appropriate clothes for her to keep at home. They probably didn’t want her to draw attention to herself outside of the office because then it would draw attention to what went on inside of that office.

"Go change your clothes," Mr. Masters said and she quickly complied. It didn't take long for her to dress in her clothes she wore to work, and even less time to pick up the check before Mr. Masters was escorting her to his car.

"Please do not send me back. If I must leave America I can go to Canada, or..."

"I'm not sending you back."

"You are detaining me?'

"No."

"I do not understand. Without my work visa I have no right..."

"You're coming to work for me. I have a spare room you can stay in. I’ll provide shelter and food. You'll watch my daughter, and help her with her school work if you can. She's home schooled and my Nanny's last day was yesterday so I'd like somebody there with my little girl. Cook her meals and clean when you can. You'll be my live-in..."

"Maid?"

"Nanny, maid, cook. It will be better than this place."

She wasn't complaining. He had helped her and she would gladly work for him.

They drove to the townhouse where she changed into one of her own outfits before gathering her few things and leaving.

His house was more elaborate than he had described. It sat up on a hill with more space than any of the houses she had seen thus far. It was brick, old in style, but gorgeous. Victorian with a twist was the style he had called it. A cherry wood, spiral staircase wrapped from the foyer to the second floor. Wood floors were throughout the house. He showed her the kitchen, his office, which was off limits, the family room and dining room. He showed her the study room before taking her upstairs where his daughter's bedroom and bath were at one end of the hall, separated by an empty room and then the master bath and bed. "Tayla's with her grandmother today. She'll be home around four." He walked her to a closed door and opened it. "Upstairs," he said. She was afraid. In her country a hidden room meant torture and death. "It's okay. Your room is up there."

She cautiously took each step one by one until she reached the top. She felt relief when she saw the window with the wooden blinds covering it.

"Let me," he rushed past her and opened the blinds. "Bed," he pointed to the queen size bed in the center of the room. A big white comforter covered it. "Closet has built in dressers. I'll take you out tomorrow for new clothes."

Since she had cashed the check at Mr. Olander's banking branch she was able to open her accounts at two other local banks with cash. She held on to one hundred thousand cash. If Mr. Olander hadn't called ahead to prepare the withdrawal she would have had to wait for the money. Had she not been with a federal officer she may not have been able to open the accounts so easy. He had told her to deposit all of it, but she wouldn’t chance not being able to leave quickly if he changed his mind about not deporting her. She needed to be ready to run because she could not go back. Going back would be death for her.

"Over there is your private bath and over there is a small study area. The only kitchen is downstairs."

"It's beautiful." She smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. "Thank you. I will be the best maid, nanny, and cook ever."
 
She stopped smiling abruptly, realizing what her mother had told her had so far been true. Nobody would give help for nothing in return. Mr. Masters had thus far asked nothing for himself, not even a cooked meal.

"Mr. Masters, will you be expecting me to..."

"No!" He said so abruptly she had to resist the urge to run to the mirror to look at her reflection.

"That is I'm not helping you for sex."

"Oh," she sighed relieved. He was attractive, but she didn't want her first time to be payment for anything.

"You just...I felt sorry for you that first day. And I know what can happen to women like you, those desperate to be in this country. I wanted to help. Olander has been trying to get my company since before my grandfather died and left it to me. I knew I had leverage to get in and assess the situation."

"I can never repay your kindness."

"And you'll never have to." He handed her a key to the front door before leaving her alone to settle in.

Chapter Two

T
ayla came to a stop the minute she reached the kitchen. "Who are you?" Her face scrunched with inquisition; her nose crinkling and eyes narrowing.

"This is Nefertiti. She's going to stay in the upper room and be your nanny."

"I'm ten, not two. I don't need a nanny."

"Well you've got one anyway young lady."

"Sorry," Nefertiti shrugged.

"My dad is too protective."

"Father's usually are." She stepped from behind the counter. "My friends call me Ta-Ta or Nefi."

Drake grinned. Ta-Ta had a completely different meaning in this area of the world.

"I'm not sure I like either of those. Can I just call you Nefertiti?"

"Of course."

"Egyptian right?"

She nodded.

"Do you speak Egyptian?"

"We speak Egyptian Arabic in Egypt. And yes, I speak it."

"Cool. Do you speak anything else?"

"Of course. I speak five languages."

"French?"

"Yes."

Tayla grinned. "Great. I need help with French. Will you help me?"

"Of course."

"Cool. I'll be back down for dinner." She ran down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

"She likes you. That's good." He tossed his key on the counter. "She's a picky eater she might not like...what is that?"

"Rice with chicken. If she doesn't like it I also know how to make cheese and Mac."

"Mac and cheese." He looked at the concoction in the pot. It smelled good, but he hadn't seen chicken cooked that way before unless it was going in soup, and she was definitely not making soup.

"That's what I said, cheese and Mac."

He chuckled. He watched her move around the kitchen. She had a spectacular behind. He knew from the outfit she wore in the office that the front view was just as titillating.

He had no intention of bringing her home so soon. He wasn't sure he would at all. When he went to see Olander he had every intention of just assessing the situation, making a few phone calls and having an investigation started. When he saw how they treated Nefertiti, what Olander had planned for her, he had to act fast. Something inside him snapped and he had to protect her.

He had been attracted to her at first glance. He followed her, covertly, through the park and watched her. When he saw her crying he assumed she was having trouble with her boyfriend. He never imagined the story she told him.

"I won't tell Tayla how you came to work for me. I'll just tell her I met you at the park."

She agreed. It wasn't a lie. He had indeed met her in the park.

They ate dinner. Much to his surprise Tayla loved the boiled chicken. After tucking Tayla into bed he took the stairs up to Nefertiti's room and knocked on the wall before entering fully.

"Is everything okay? Do you need blankets or anything?"

"No. I'm okay. I haven't gone shopping for clothes in America yet. Is this enough money?"

"Jesus," he took the two bundles of cash from her hands. "That's too much." He pulled five hundred dollars out and tucked the rest in her case. "This is probably more than you need too." He started to hand the money back to her.

"Will you keep it for me to pay in the stores? I'm too nervous I'll mess up."

"Sure," he shrugged. "We'll get a fire proof safe tomorrow for the rest of that." He pointed to the case of cash. "Just don't run off talking about how much you have--"

"I won't." She smiled again. He liked seeing her smile. She had a smile that could light up a room. "Thank you again Mr. Masters."

"Drake," he insisted. "Just call me Drake. And you're welcome."

"If I mess up please give me a chance to correct? I can't go back to my country."

"I would never threaten to send you back. We’re not all bastards here in America." The poor woman had only been exposed to perverts and leeches. It was no wonder she felt fear of American men. Maybe she feared all men. He wondered what had driven her from her country, but he didn't ask. He wouldn’t ask. Her secrets were hers to hold until she was ready to talk.

"Tayla's mother died not long after our baby boy died. They've been gone from us three years now. It'll be good for Tayla to have a woman in the house on a full-time basis. Our other nanny was only here while I was at work."