Just Surviving (BWWM)

Chapter 5: Fatigue

(Photo of Jazmyn)

Chapter 5: Fatigue

Kostas Sarantos is a 28 year-old entrepreneur who, at an astonishingly young age, owns numerous investments and corporations across the globe. Of course, being that Kostas wasn't closed-minded, he bought much real estate in countries such as North and South America, Italy, France, Britain, and of course his motherland Greece.

In these countries he sets up his restaurants, luxury apartments and hotels, clubs, and other major chains. Evidently, the aim was to rule the world, and he fought hard to achieve The Sarantos Corporation's world domination. The man himself has become a celebrity icon from all of his success, however in the past I had usually got the inhibition telling me 60% of it is on account of his rugged yet pretty boy looks. Being that he has been on the cover of many fashion and style magazines than you can ever imagine-more than business ones-you can't really blame me for believing.

Basically, Kostas has become the new and improved Donald Trump of today's modern society, minus the bad hairdo. The girls love him and the guys both admire and envy him. Kostas, as he so blatantly explained to me weeks before, can practically buy and do whatever he wants. His reputation, money and power all but demands it. The name Kostas Sarantos carries so much influence, demand and power in itself.

Now that that's all covered, there was only one question left: why couldn't the damn man hire more than one freakin' maid?

When Kostas said that I'd be working this mansion from top to bottom he literally meant it. He forgot to mention that I would be doing it alone. Well, technically he did but for a second I thought he was joking. No one would actually hire one maid for a two story mansion. I had expected some some staff to stay just in case he didn't trust in my cleaning or cooking abilities. How wrong was I. Literally. I'm the only one in uniform up in this joint. Completely and utterly inhumane.

I cleaned nonstop; making up his bed, dusting each surface, vacuuming the floors, mopping them, wiping off the windows, draining the pool, etc, ETC! This guy even made me wear this ridiculous French maids outfit. Like seriously, what in the hell?! The uniform was a size too small and squeezed the life out of my boobs. And every time I had to clean an area of elevation or a low low one that I had to strain my neck to reach, the moment I moved the skirt rose up nearly past mid-thigh. It was so embarrassing!

I could hear Jazz calling me a slut now...

That, and the fact that I'm working for a monster, was all I could think during the entirety of my cleaning.

I sigh as I continued to wax the dining room floor. Yes, you heard it right. On the list of chores I had to get done, the last of my many duties read that I also had to wax the floors. Fucking. Wax. The floors, how ridiculous! But I had to admit, the house did look enchanting after I followed the cleaning instructions to a T. I was finally at the end of the list, and once all the waxing and shining and washing and polishing was done I plopped myself on the couch ready for at least an hour of relaxation.

The only good part about this job was that Kostas wasn't guaranteed to be in his New York home much of the time. This isn't his only house. Plus, being the diligent businessman that he is, he'd have meetings, dinners, lunch-ins or whatever lined up back-to-back for his clients and employees. From what I remember, Kostas could travel from Milan to Paris to Vegas all in one day without even breaking a sweat.

He was such a workaholic. It's probably even worse now...maybe he fits in a couple of dates into his schedule too. Lord knows all he has to do is break out that billion dollar dimpled smile and he'd have women sprung. He's such a player...and an asshole and a manwhore and a jer-no, no Mía, calm down. It doesn't matter anymore. He is all those things, but that is none of your concern anymore.