The Billionaire's Hired Bride

“Did you hear?” Irene whispers beside me. “Asher’s coming tonight.”

I try not to react, but I have heard the name more times than I can count since I got employed two days ago.

“Asher Lancaster,” another girl sighs dreamily, dusting flour off her apron. “That man is dangerously gorgeous. I swear, if I wasn’t in uniform, I’d dress to kill tonight.”

I say nothing, just focus on arranging pastries on a tray. Honestly, I don’t have time to crush on some spoiled billionaire's son.

 I keep my head down. I have real problems. My sister is still in a coma, and the hospital bills are growing by the second. Crushing on some rich, cocky guy with magazine cover looks is not on my to-do list.

I'm Lila Blakes. The girl who has been living her teenage life by scrubbing floors, washing public toilets and babysitting little children. And today, I'm in Lancaster's home, one of the wealthiest billionaire families in town to work up enough money as a maid for my comatose sister in the hospital.

The kitchen fills with excitement as we prepare the dishes like our lives depend on it. Tonight we aren't preparing dinner. Mr. Lancaster is throwing one of his grand parties where even an ice cube has to look expensive.

I stand at the far end of the prep table, peeling vegetables like my life depends on it, because honestly, my paycheck kind of did.

“Girl, you’re too quiet,” Irene says, nudging me with her elbow. “Is it your first Lancaster elite party?”

I nod. “First week. I’m still figuring out where the knives go.”

She chuckles. “Well, tonight’s not just about knives. It’s about catching a glimpse of him.”

I frown. “Him?”

“Asher,” she breathes, like she is whispering a forbidden spell. “Asher Lancaster. The man. The myth. The walking, sinfully fine billionaire’s son.”

I roll my eyes, but it is hard not to be curious because the girls treat him like he was some kind of demi god.

Another maid, Ylva, piped up from the stove. “You haven’t seen him yet, Lila? Tall, confident, and those eyes—whew.”

Irene adds, “And he’s a model, too. Dating Elise Monroe ”.

I blink. “ He’s dating Elise Monroe? ”

They all nod, impressed with themselves for having that info.

“So what’s he even doing with someone like her?” I ask before I can stop myself.

They all turn to look at me in surprise.

Irene smirks. “Ohhh... so Lila is curious.”

I quickly return to slicing tomatoes, trying to hide the heat crawling up my neck. “I’m just making conversation.”

But deep down, I'm curious about this man who makes women fluster in a kitchen full of flames.

The girls continue to chatter about what they will wear if they aren’t stuck in uniform tonight, each imagining about accidentally bumping into him with a tray.

The party begins just after sunset. I stand by the corner of the ballroom, balancing a tray of wine glasses, trying to stay invisible.

The mansion is already noisy with activity. I can hear the faint hum of music starting to play. Guests are arriving, dressed in designer clothes and bright smiles. Just with a sight, one can tell it is an elite party.

 Waiters walk through the crowd, and photographers linger at the entrance, ready to pounce on any shot that will make tomorrow's headline.

Then, the air shifts.

The front doors swing open wider, and a wave of camera flashes lights up the room. Heads turn. Conversations pause. And there he is.

Asher Lancaster.

Tall and effortlessly confident.One hand rests casually in his pocket, the other gently placed on the lower back of the woman beside him.

 Elise Monroe.

They walk in like royalty, every eye trail after them, cameras flash around them. The way they carry themselves makes it clear why they are celebrities.

I tell myself not to look. But I do.

He is annoyingly handsome. Dark hair, cold eyes that elevated his aura and the way he walked like he owns the world. He doesn't smile, instead he wears a smirk like he knew the world bent at his feet.

Whispers, murmurings and the clicking sound of cameras of the paparazzi continue as they glide through the crowd who make way for them.

I grip the tray a little tighter, steadying my hands as a guest takes a glass of wine with a polite nod. 

My eyes keep drifting to him.He nods at a few familiar faces, exchanges handshakes, leans slightly to whisper something into Elise’s ear that makes her laugh like she’s the only woman in the room.

The party is loud and busy as I carry a tray full of drinks, trying not to mess up. Everyone is staring at Asher and his model girlfriend, Elise. I just want to stay unseen.

Suddenly, I spot Asher's sister, Zara, who dislikes me, glaring in my direction from across the room. Her eyes narrow as she approaches, forcing me to stiffen. I shift the tray with a little force to show I'm confident, but the edge of my shoe catches on the thick carpet.

Before I know it, I stumble, arms flailing, trying to catch my balance. But it’s too late. My face dives straight into the giant three-tiered cake sitting on the dessert table.

Gasps fill the room. The music stops. Everyone turns to look at me, frozen with frosting all over my cheeks and nose.

I freeze, too embarrassed to move.

Then Zara’s cold voice cuts through the silence. “Great job, Lila.”

The sting of her words burns worse than the cake on my face.

What an embarrassing moment!

 I feel a thousand pairs of eyes on me including the celebrant himself, billionaire Richard Lancaster, and his wife beside him staring at me confused. 

Oh no! I'm in trouble.

I can barely stand it, but it’s Asher and Elise’s gazes that hit me hardest. Asher’s eyes are sharp, almost amused, while Elise stares like I'm a disgusting sight. 

My heart pounds as I hurry toward the ballroom exit , my legs barely steady. The noise of the party fades behind me as I rush to the bathroom , closing the door behind me with a shaky hand.

 I clean the frosting off my face, scrubbing until my skin tingles . I change into a fresh set of clothes I’d tuck away . It is simple and comfortable.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I barely recognize the girl staring back. Still, I need to get out of here, anywhere but not that crowded ballroom.  

Stepping quietly through the mansion’s long hallways, I decided to explore. Maybe getting lost in this huge place will help me forget the disaster back in the ballroom.

I pushed open a heavy door that wasn’t quite closed, curiosity pulling me inside before I could stop myself. The moment I step in, I freeze.

The room is huge, way bigger than any bedroom I’ve ever seen. The shiny wooden floors glow softly under pretty chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. There are fancy paintings and luxurious furniture everywhere but what catches my eye are the giant windows that show the city lights sparkling like stars.

A big, soft bed with white sheets sits in one corner. Near it, there’s a leather chair and a mahogany desk clustered with papers and a laptop. I see a glass door that leads to a closet filled with fancy shoes lined up perfectly.

I feel a heavy mix of guilt and amazement. What if someone finds me? What if I lose my job? Still, I take a step inside, my heart beating fast. I know I shouldn't be here. A maid like me isn't supposed to wander in places like this, but I can't tear my eyes away.

Suddenly, I feel a presence behind me. My heart jumps, and I spin around fast only to see Asher standing there, his eyes unreadable.

For a moment, neither of us says a word. I want to explain, but my throat feels tight. 

I watch him take a step forward to me, his piercing gaze never leaving me. My heart drums as I cringe back in fright until my back touches the wall.

“ Where else will you run to?”, he smiles mischievously, nearing me. 

I couldn't speak. I only shiver from our closeness as I stare at his ocean blue eyes which I'm drowning in. They are intimidating but not more than the pleasant fragrance I perceive from his body.

“The cake girl, right?,” he smirks while I nod gently,trying to avoid his gaze.

“ What's your name?”, he whispers in my ear, tucking my hair gently behind my ear, his hot breath tormenting me.

I shuddered at the coldness of his fingers as he caressed my cheeks.

 “ L_L_Lila “, I stammered.

He smirks, his eyes pretty but evil. I tremble as his fingers go from my cheeks to my lips as he stares at them. “ Nice name “.

His face is a few inches far from mine as he strokes my hair gently with his other hand. Now his lips moving to my neck, his breath warm on my skin, he whispers,

 “Lila, what are you doing in my room?”.