The Billionaire's Housekeeper (Betsy Jones Book 1) - Unedited

The Billionaire's Housekeeper - Chapter One

Nicholas Davenport hated surprises.

He was a man who practised control in both his work and his private life, planning everything down to the last detail. It was how he had ensured his own success, building his company up from a small start-up to a multi-billion pound corporation. He lived and breathed control.

It was why the woman standing in the drawing room of his home was definitely a surprise – an unwelcome surprise.

Bright blue suitcases were sprawled around her feet while her hands toyed with the hem of her long sleeve t-shirt. Nick pressed his lips into a tight line and felt a frown forming between his brows as he took in the dirty blonde hair loosely knotted on top of her head and the worn bootleg jeans. Her eyes were riveted on the bookshelves which adorned each of the walls, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her attention was captured so wholly the woman hadn't even noticed his entrance.

He could certainly understand the fascination, Nick thought as his eyes casually moved over the length of her petite form. There were over three thousand first editions lining the walls but he didn't think the woman's attention was truly on the literature.

And as he stared at the delicate figure before him, he didn't care much about the literature either.

In an instant, the head of the Davenport Empire felt off balance. Nick was no stranger to attraction. He had had many dalliances in his teens, had been well known for it. It had been all too easy. With his dark hair, powerful physique and wealth to match, women flocked to him. For years, there was rarely a magazine published without his picture on the front cover, some carefully selected woman clinging to his arm.

Nick shuddered. The women had served their purpose. He had used them and they had used him. The game had gotten old after a few years. There were only so many two dimensional relationships a man could suffer through before even they became cumbersome.

Yet even now Nick thought there was something truly beautiful about a woman when she thought no one was watching. It was the only time a woman was unguarded – no posturing or preening to get his attention. It was something which stirred the most primal part of his being.

Gritting his pearly whites together, Nick stepped fully into the room

"You are not Claire." He stated, taking a small amount of pleasure when the woman gasped and spun to face him.

Disaster struck only a moment later. In her haste to turn, the blonde's foot caught on the corner of one of the smaller suitcases. In the blink of an eye the petite woman was on the floor, peering up at him through her eye lashes. Her legs were hanging haphazardly over the top of her upturned suitcase whilst her hands were clutching desperately at the rug covered floor. Under his gaze, her alabaster white skin quickly turned an alarming shade of red.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my home?" Nick demanded, using his height to tower over her quaking form. "I do not take kindly to journalists invading my home all in the name of a headline. You have ten seconds to explain yourself before I call security."

"I-I." She spluttered, her hands scrabbling for purchase as she tried to pull herself upright.  "My sister."

Nick folded his arms across his chest making no attempt to help the woman out of her predicament.  When their gazes met, he raised his brows but kept silent.

"Claire is my sister." The blonde explained before dragging herself from the floor. "I'm Betsy. Sorry, I mean my name is Elizabeth Jones but everyone calls me Betsy."

The woman stepped close, too close for Nick's comfort, bringing with her the tantalising scent of vanilla. And then she was thrusting her hand at him, staring up at him expectantly with blue eyes so light they almost looked silver.