I want You Deeper

Title: Concealing For The Billionaire.

This house has a moat.”

“Vanessa Gilbert said the words aloud as she navigated thelong driveway to Heath Hardcastle’s home. More like a castle. Heath Hardcastle’s castle? She laughed to herself, wishing her best friend could be here to see this.

Vanessa groaned as she pulled into a parking space-yes, the driveway opened up into what could only be described as a parking lot-and cut her engine. Her tiny little electric car was surrounded by ginormous SUVs, none of which were luxury models. She assumed those belonged to the camera crew, here to film the billionaire-in-residence.

Billionaires. They were everywhere these days. Her roommate, Brooke, was dating her own billionaire boss. Brooke had invited a friend she worked with to room with them, too. Surprise of all surprises, she also was dating a billionaire. It was almost laughable. What were the odds?

One thing was for certain. She, Vanessa Gilbert, would not be joining the billionaire club. Nope. In fact, these days she seemed to only attract broke guys, which was fine by her. They were also plentiful around Silicon Valley, thanks to all the big tech companies that had been downsizing and going out of business lately.

Which brought her to why she was here. To meet and impress a billionaire. She stepped out of her car, smoothed down her skirt, and stared up at the mansion-slash-castle that even had two tower-looking things on each side. She was pretty sure those were called turrets.

Vanessa began the long walk toward the front door of the place, filled with the strange sensation that she was being watched. The film crew could even be pointing a camera at her from one of those turrets, for all she knew. It would make for good footage, anyway. Actress-wannabe arrives to audition to play the billionaire’s fake assistant on the reality show he was doing. She’d auditioned for enough shows-both scripted and reality-by now to know how all this stuff worked.

Channeling the same confidence she always faked on her Los Angeles auditions, Vanessa stepped onto the stone ledge, rang the doorbell, and winced as it let out a chime that was too loud even through the thick wooden front door. She could only imagine how it sounded to someone standing inside.

Nothing. Everything was eerily still and silent. Maybe this was part of the audition. See how she’d react to no one coming to the door? The type of person they liked for reality shows would go right into the place anyway, manners forgotten. She always had to remind herself to throw out all those childhood etiquette lessons and take charge.

Suddenly, the door flew open. And there, standing in front of her, was Heath Hardcastle.

Vanessa blinked, mostly to avoid staring. He was unbelievably gorgeous in person. Piercing green eyes and thick brown hair. Of all things, he wore a bathrobe over pajama pants. It was like something out of a classic movie.

“You the actress?” he asked.

She blinked again, this time out of nervousness. Actress? Granted, she’d worked since middle school play auditions to be seen as just that. But for some reason, when a billionaire in a bathrobe said it, it came out sounding less than.

“I’m Vanessa.” She thrust out her hand, clenching her jaw as she waited for him to return the offer of a handshake. That was how every audition seemed to kick off. Someone said hi, shook her hand, then told her where to stand and when to speak.

Not this time. This time, a man in a bathrobe was staring at her hand as though he didn’t know what to do with it.

Feeling more awkward than ever, she let her hand drop to her side and straightened, oddly more confident than ever. If this guy wasn’t going to tell her where to stand, she’d just take charge.

“Where do you want to do this?” she asked.

She wasn’t sure what to expect in response to that. He’d called her “the actress,” so he obviously knew why she was here. Why not get down to business?Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“The crew is in the kitchen.” He turned and strode confidently into the house. Vanessa frowned. She assumed she was expected to follow?

Shaking her head and mumbling to herself, she turned and closed the front door. She paused a moment, taking in the two staircases-one on each side of the entryway. Each had decorative wrought-iron railings going all the way up, with a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling as a centerpiece to all of it.

Wow. Just wow.

Vanessa grew up in one of the nicest suburbs of Chicago in a house that overlooked the lake. She’d had her own pool, a giant bedroom with a walkin closet…all the things you’d think of as “the dream.” And she’d spent most of her time alone.

So, yeah. This sort of thing didn’t really impress her. For her, it represented sadness and isolation and grown-ups who worked twenty-four hours a day, sacrificing everything to live like this. What impressed her was a family in a normal house with parents who actually spent time with their kids.

“He can’t possibly be serious.”

The sound of a man’s voice, floating out from the kitchen, reminded her she was dawdling. The bathrobed billionaire was waiting for her in there. Although making a grand entrance was a good thing, she didn’t want to be labeled one of those on-air talents who kept everyone waiting around.

Vanessa tiptoed toward the kitchen to prevent her shoes from making excessive noise on the marble floors. If the cameras were rolling, clipclopping to announce her arrival wouldn’t translate well on TV.

Sure enough, there were two cameras, a boom mic, and a man behind each of them. Heath was pacing the center of the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear. “Justin Travers is dead to me. I’d rather work with an untamed tiger.

Do you hear me?”

Without waiting for a response, Heath pulled the phone from his ear, tapped on the screen, and tossed it on the counter. Then he turned to look at Vanessa.

Vanessa knew she looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but it had nothing to do with this man in a robe. It had to do with the fact that the man he’d been yelling about-Justin Travers-was her roommate’s boyfriend and boss.

“Did you say Justin Travers?” Vanessa asked, just in case she’d misheard.

Heath crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Why?”

Why? Good question. Vanessa looked over at the closest camera, which had suddenly come just a little closer to her.

No, she couldn’t mention it. Not here. Not now. She turned back to Heath and shook her head. “Nothing. So…do you need me to read some lines or something?”

“Read some lines?” He looked genuinely confused. That was right. He was a billionaire. She assumed he made his bazillions in tech since everyone else in this town had. Silicon Valley and Hollywood were worlds apart.

“I’ve auditioned for a few reality shows, but mostly scripted. Usually, for reality shows, there’s a producer who asks some questions to get a feel for my personality.”

His mouth twitched a little. Was that the beginnings of an actual smile? No, couldn’t be. This man had shown no signs of a sense of humor before, so why start now?

“Why don’t we have a seat?” He pointed to some tall stools.

Vanessa looked down. Her skirt came to her knees but crossing her legs wouldn’t be easy on a seat like that. What choice did she have, though?

First challenge…accepted!

The production crew rearranged themselves until there was a camera person behind each chair. A lens immediately stared Vanessa in the face. As with scripted TV, reality shows required pretending the camera wasn’t there. But with reality, you were supposed to be natural, yet animated. No one wanted phony, but nobody wanted boring, either.

“So…tell me why you want to help with this project.”

Heath’s question came just as Vanessa realized how close they were sitting. He was directly in front of her, his knees inches from hers. He didn’t seem the least bit flustered by it, though. In fact, he looked like he had settled in for a long chat.

“I love reality TV,” Vanessa said. “My agent said you’re going undercover to find the problems with your company, and you need someone to pose as your assistant.”

Plus, it was an on-camera gig near home. She wouldn’t have to make the five-hour drive to L. A. and just hope the job provided accommodations if she got it. It was rare to get an audition here, and she certainly wasn’t going to turn it down. Even if she wasn’t one hundred percent clear what it involved.

“Do you have any experience with trade shows and conventions?” Heath asked.

The question caught her off guard. Trade shows and conventions weren’t what she’d been expecting. Her agent had said he was going undercover with his business. She’d pictured it being like those shows where the boss put on a wig and some makeup and pretended to work at a store or restaurant or call center or… Trade show.

Heath sat forward, seeming to examine her expression. “I’m looking for a promotional model.”

Oh, no. She knew plenty about promotional modeling. She’d even considered it for extra money. That would be A-Okay with her, assuming that had been what her agent had sent her to do. But she had her hopes set on a reality show gig, only to hear this was something she could have landed on her own?

“I think there must be a misunderstanding.” She scooted off the ridiculously high stool, hitting the ground in her too-high heels with an awkward thud. She couldn’t believe she’d endured uncomfortable shoes for this.

“Wait. Where are you going?” His entire expression changed. The smug, in-control look was now filled with a hint of panic. Was that possible? His expression had softened, and for the first time, she saw him as an actual human being she might actually… Like.

“I was sent for a reality TV show audition, not a promotional modeling gig.” She started toward the door. Not surprisingly, the cameras and boom mic followed.

“That’s exactly what this is,” he called after her.

She paused, nearly causing a traffic accident with all the dudes carrying equipment. In the small gap between them, she saw Heath, robe and all, walking toward her.

Somehow, he managed to squeeze through the crew to stand in front of her. “You’re going undercover, too. It’s all part of the show.”

“Undercover…as a promotional model?”

“Yes. It’s brilliant. At the big trade shows, promotional models are expected to be fully trained on what they do. That means you’ll have to spend a lot of time meeting customers, getting to know how we run things. See what I mean?”

She did. He was going undercover because there were problems with his company. He needed someone to play “assistant.” Her agent had said exactly that, so this wasn’t some sort of bait and switch.

“I see.”

She saw. But she had no idea what to say now. She knew she probably should be scrambling to make sure she got this job, but something about that ridiculous bathrobe-at two o’clock in the afternoon, no less-made her annoyed more than regretful. She didn’t care if she was destroying every chance to get this job. This man was not getting the better of her.

“Fine.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her head in the most confident posture she could muster. “So, how do we do this? Do I need to talk about something technical to show I can? Because I spent an entire summer learning to code when I was in high school. Oh, yeah. Drama kids can do more than act.”

This was the real Vanessa in all her glory. She’d been told reality shows picked the people with the biggest, boldest personalities, which was why it puzzled her to get nothing from the many auditions she’d been on.

“Nope. I think we’ve seen all we need to see. Right, guys?”

The camera dudes didn’t budge. The guy holding the microphone looked at Heath, but Vanessa noticed the right side of his mouth twitch upward a little as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of this robed billionaire.

She could relate.

Before he could start barking orders, she jumped in to say, “Just give my agent a call. She’ll hammer out all the details. I look forward to working with you.”

Vanessa didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, she spun on one heel and walked out the door, hoping her shaky legs wouldn’t give out beneath her.