Hired Wife

Chapter 3. The Interview and Proposal

Dominic

As I sit here looking over her resume, my eyes keep wanting to look over at the incredibly beautiful red headed women before me. Her beautiful red hair twisted up as lose strands of hairbrushes next to her flawless face and her beautiful blue eyes nearly sparkle. Her plump red lips yearning to be ravaged by my own.

"Mr. Bradford?" her voice breaks my erotic fantasy.

"What, Ms. Foster?"

"I asked if can I pour you a cup of coffee? She points towards the coffee pot. Without realizing it, I smile and nod my head in agreement.

"I'm taking a wild guess and guessing you like your coffee black and strong?" she looks back over her shoulder at me.

"How do you know that Ms. Foster?" I ask her.

"Well, you did say you are a very busy man, so I'm guessing this is how you get all of your energy to keep yourself going," she smiles as she grabs a coaster from the black and gold coffee table and places it on my desk beside me.

"Can you cook, Ms. Foster?" I ask curiously. 

"As a matter of fact, I was taught by the best cook," she replies. 

"Do tell, and who might that be, Ms. Foster?"

"Michael Steele," she informs me.

"And who is this Michael Steele, Ms. Foster?" 

"My grandfather, Mr. Bradford," she responds.

"Your grandfather, Ms. Foster?  And where is he now?" 

"In heaven with my Granny. He passed away a little over five years ago," she replies with sadness in her voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," I quickly apologize.

"No, it's ok, you have nothing to apologize for. So, how is your coffee?" 

"It's good. Ok, listen. I am willing to give you a trial period, but I want you to cook any meal you want for me. Your choice, if I like it, then we can go over what I expect from you. There's no need to put this off. Please follow me to the kitchen," I say as I stand up and extend my hand out towards her.

With each step she takes, I catch a slight hint of her intoxicating lavender scent from her perfume and my eyes soon focus on how her hips sway back and forth and her bare neck begging to be caressed.

"Here we are," I motion for her to enter the kitchen. Her eyes soon widen, and her mouth drops open seeing the size of the kitchen. 

"My God, it's bigger than a bowling alley.  Everything is gold and silver."

"I take it you're loving my kitchen?" I ask her. She slowly walks around looking at every detail of the oversized fridge and stove. Her eyes widen once again as she looks at the fine details on the glass cabinets embellished with thinly strips of gold.

"It's too pretty to cook in and make a mess in," she says, and I try holding back my laughter.

"Ms. Foster, if you don't cook in it, I'll starve. I'm sure you don't want your possible boss to starve to death, do you?"  I smile and notice her smile.

"No, I do not want you starving to death Mr. Bradford." 

"Excellent, so I'll just sit right here at the island and let you prepare my breakfast, Ms. Foster," I lower myself onto the barstool. 

"You're going to sit there and watch me cook, Mr. Bradford?" I find it amusing watching her squirm as I grin and nod my head. 

"That's right, Ms. Foster. Impress me and the job is yours," I reply with the same grin. 

"O-ok," she stammers.  Thirty-five minutes goes by and the kitchen smells amazing. She pulls out the round cookie sheet from the oven and places it on the hotplate on the island.

"I have to admit it looks and smells delicious, Ms. Foster. What have you made for me?"

"Mr. Bradford, I made you what my grandfather made me every Saturday morning.  His famous breakfast pizza," she smiles.

"Breakfast pizza, Ms. Foster? I can honestly say I have never had a breakfast pizza. Well, I'm giving it a try," I say before blowing on it.

"Go on, try it. I promise you're going to love it," she says with certainty in her tone.

"Ok, if you say so. If I do love your breakfast pizza Ms. Foster, this will conclude our interview and I will have some of my guys help move you into your room here," I say and see her silently praying. 

As I take a bite, my eyes look up at her concerned eyes. I think at some point she holds her breath with anticipation. My hand slides over a slice in front of her and I motion for her to eat with me.

"Wow! This turned out really good," she whispers after taking a bite.

"Yes, it did, and that is why the job is yours if you still want it, Ms. Foster."

"Really, you're hiring me, Mr. Bradford?" her eyes glisten. 

"Yes, but like with many other new jobs, I am placing you on a two-week trial, Ms. Foster. If you can survive my crazy life and requests, then you will begin receiving your full benefits." 

"I hope this doesn't come off being rude, Mr. Bradford, but what exactly does my full benefits involve?" She whispers with a nervous tone.

"Well, they involve full health insurance which includes dental, eye, of course with you being a female, it also includes your personal female care. A guaranteed raise every nine months. And just by some chance you might be wondering how much you will be making an hour; I am willing to pay you twenty-five dollars an hour," I inform her and see the smile forming on her face.

"That will keep me from losing my house and help keep up with the monthly bills," she smiles.

"You do understand I need you living here with me, right?" I ask her.

"Yes, I understand, Mr. Bradford. It's just   the house I'm speaking about is the house my grandfather left me. I cannot lose that house," she insists.

"I'm not one to pry myself into other people's business, considering how much I hate it when people try and pry themselves into my personal business, but Ms. Foster, I can't help but wonder why you're having to seek employment."

"Long story short, I made the mistake of trusting someone I should never trusted. Let's just say after my bitter divorce I was left with my grandfather's house and thirty thousand dollars. You know that kind of money won't last long, so here I am hoping you will hire me."

"That's very true, thirty thousand dollars now a days won't buy a decent house or car. Ms. Foster what if I were to suggest something else? What if I tell you there is a way to ensure you won't lose your grandfather's house and there is a way to ensure you never have to worry about money ever again?" I ask raising an eyebrow and tapping my finger on the coffee cup waiting to hear what her response will be.

"If you know how, then I'm dying to know your solution to all of my personal problems, Mr. Bradford. Although I haven't had any luck winning the lottery," she laughs as she pours the orange juice into the small crystal glass. 

"No, it doesn't involve winning any lottery, Ms. Foster," I say as she sips her orange juice.

"Then I'm afraid it's impossible for you to help me with my financial problems, Mr. Bradford. All I can really do is work for you. I have no other choice."

"Actually, that isn't exactly true," I reply piquing her curiosity. 

"What do you mean that isn't true, Mr. Bradford? I am not about to ask you for money. I will work for it."

"And I'm not willing to just hand you money, but I do have a solution to both of our problems. Something that will insure we both get what we want," I say, and she once again looks at me with curiosity in her eyes.

"What solution could you possibly have, Mr. Bradford?" 

"You can agree to marry me Ms. Foster," I suggest. 

"I'm sorry, I think I just misunderstood your words. Did you just say I can agree to marry you, Mr. Bradford?"