Gwendolyn West is a young journalist from Manhattan. But when her fiancé is killed by the most infamous mob in the world, she has to do something about it. She goes undercover as a server in the household of mob leader Tom Holland. She finds herself...
I got out of my car once I got to TSH Headquarters. The house was huge and was attached to a 4 story office space that looked chic and modern. I can't believe I'm here. I thought as I tightened by ponytail and entered the reception of this huge house. "Hi, I'm Guinevere Foster I'm the new server." I said to the receptionist, using my fake name. "Take a seat and Mr Holland will be down shortly to introduce himself." She said with a smile. I nodded and sat on the not-so-comfy leather couch. I couldn't believe I was actually going to meet him. The man who killed my fiance. Bang on 9 o'clock the elevator pinged and three men walked out. The man at the front was Tom. He was surprisingly attractive. He was much taller than me, he had brown curly locks which he attempted to keep back with gel. His eyes were hazel and his body was...appreciated. I stood up to greet him but when I did, he exchanged a look with the two security men behind him. He turned back to face me and smirked. "Miss Foster?" He asked. I smiled and shook his hand. "Please, just Gwen. Thank you for giving me this opportunity, it means a lot." He looked like he was holding back a smile and I didn't know why. "No problem at all, if you follow me we can head to my office to talk more about your job there."
We finally got to his office and he politely told me to sit in the single chair on the other side of his desk. "So, Gwen. I'm looking at your resume and I think you are too good to just be working part-time. I'd like you to be my personal server. This means that if I need anything I can just call you. This also means that you would have to live in the building in case of any emergencies. Now, you know about this business and what I do, so if you want to be at this level then you will have to sign a contract sealing your loyalty to me and this business and to never speak of it outside of this building." Tom said with his hands clasped on the table. His English accent was mesmerizing to listen to. I was surprised with what I was hearing. I didn't want to live here! However, it would be good for the article. "So, I'd live here? And I'd be with you most of the time?" I asked. "Yes, basically all the time unless I say you can go back to hang out in your room." "So would I live with the rest of the maids and servers?" "No. You'd live in my wing of the house. My partner Harrison also lives here but he's doing a job Canada right now. You'll have your own security team, and me so you don't have to worry about protection. Are you in?" I thought about it for a moment. "Yes. I'm in." Tom's smile widened as he took the papers out from under his desk.
"This is my partners and family's wing. My room is down at the bottom of the hall there." He pointed to the double doors at the end of the long, wide hall. We walked to the door on the left of Tom's room. "And this, will be your room." He opened the double doors to the most beautiful room I had ever seen.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Mr Holland I can't accept this room." I protested as I stood behind the varnished wood floors. "Gwen, please. You'll be doing so much work for me that I'll have to give you this at least." He said. He placed his hand on the small of my back which sent goosebumps all over my body. He gestured for us to move into the room. "You have a desk here for privacy when you do your work," "An en-suite bathroom just there, your bed obviously which has a heat blanket underneath the base sheet, there's a remote to switch it on and off there," Tom was excited just showing me the place. "Then, you have a walk in wardrobe." Tom opened the door and a small room lit up automatically. The empty white room was furnished with shelves and shoe racks and jewelry holders. "I thought about buying clothes for you but I thought it would be inappropriate to ask you your dress and shoe size." He chuckled to himself. "This is too much." I smiled graciously on the outside but was screaming WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO? GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT! In my head. "So I'll give you this week to pack up and move in next Monday?" He asked. "Um...yes. Sounds great." I smiled. "I'll send a car to you. What's your-" "No need Mr Holland. I'll handle it no problem." I blurted as I remembered that he sent fucking hitmen to my apartment. He smirked a little. "Great. See you Monday, Gwen." He smiled and left me in the huge wardrobe alone.
