The Billionaire‘s Mask
Margarette Grey
328 k word

"I am a monster, Miss Hart. You wouldn't want nor wish to see me..."He is mysterious and brilliant, wealthy and prominent, but no single soul has seen him in person. Well, no one should see him—that's one of his many rules. No one can touch him either; that's another rule. Except for me because I have broken every rule. Now I'm extremely drawn to him. His peculiarity is out of this world, and his beauty is beyond physical. But the Master has demons of his own and is being chased by his brutal past. Suddenly, we've become the reflection of each other's nightmares. I realize that the Master and I are not so different. Is this newly found bond just another uncertain fate that could deepen our wounds, or is it finally going to be our redemption?




"You must never enter Master Brandon's bedroom or his study. He's not a very patient man. He allows no one in his room. You can do whatever you want in the house but never go inside his private space unless you are permitted to do so. Do you understand?" Ms. Lennie warns. It is clear in her pale cerulean eyes how serious she is.

The head housemaid's hair is ash—colored and seems as if it has been tied in a bun forever. She has a strong countenance and is about five—foot—five. If I had to guess, I'd say she is in her late fifties.

"I understand." I gulp and nod.

I always do research before job interviews, so I know a little about the 'Master.' He's twenty—eight, a self—made billionaire, and the sole owner and chairman of Grethe and Elga Enterprises, a telecommunications and electronic consumer company headquartered in Manhattan.

But his family background, where he graduated, and his face are all a mystery. No single soul has seen him in person. He never shows up anywhere public and never attends any important events. I can't help but wonder why.

Does he have a disease? Is he allergic to sunrise? A vampire? I want to know.

"Um, Ms. Lennie? I just want to ask..."

"Yes, Miss Hart?" she turns, acknowledging the hesitation in my voice. We stop in the middle of a long stairway.

"Does he really not come out?"

She meets my gaze. "One more thing: this is the last time you will ask me that."

Is that a yes? I swallow again.

As we continue to the curve of the staircase, I can't help but admire the mansion's grandeur. I didn't know mansions still existed in New York City, but that's not so surprising if you walk to the posh end of the Upper East Side.

The house's neoclassical architecture enchants me. Although it's undeniably old, modernity is still present. The enormous chandeliers brighten the hall, and the floors are so clean it seems as though no single speck of dirt has ever touched them. Yet I can't miss the dark gray draperies covering the tall windows, as if they're there to prevent the light from coming in. And the silence of the surroundings is deafening—making the place seem lonely and empty.

However, the walls display expensive art pieces and oil canvases. I lean close to one—a beautiful scene of a majestic pine tree covered in snow. But what captures my attention the most is the portrait of a handsome young man hanging in the center of the space. He has dark hair, chiseled jaws, piercing gray eyes, a perfectly aligned nose, a mouth made for kissing, and an utterly stoic expression.

"Ms. Lennie, who's he?" I mumble.

She spins and throws me a warning look but doesn't answer. After a long walk, we stop in front of a hand—carved wooden door on the second floor. Ms. Lennie draws out a bunch of keys from her pocket and chooses one.

"The Master wants you to use this room. You're fortunate. The rooms in this passage are for the guests," she says as she unlocks the door and hands me a key. "Here's your duplicate," she explains. Her expression is still blank.

Does she even know how to smile?

"Thanks. I'll just settle my things inside." I smile, wondering if she would smile back. Predictably, she didn't.

"Your job starts tomorrow, but I'll meet you in the living room in one hour. I'll give you a house tour."

"Of course. Thank you." I smile, then open the door.

I step into my room, dragging my luggage behind me, and my eyes widen the moment I lift my head.

"Goodness gracious! This room is for a princess!" I exclaim, then cautiously lower my voice, anxious someone might hear me. I look around, astonished at the realization that I am meant to be alone in such an enormous room. I don't need so much space, but God, it's incredible.

Unlike the gloom in the rest of the mansion, there is light here. The room has white walls and is impeccably appointed. The floors are made of Italian marble, a stone fireplace occupies the far wall, and there's a sitting area with two small, padded loungers. Also, the curtains aren't gray, but baby blue! The queen—sized bed is covered by a spread cheerfully patterned with yellow flowers, and the pillows look fluffy.

I'm in love! It's as if they knew my favorite colors. But the thing that startles me most is the MacBook glowing on the desk. I wonder if I'm allowed to use it.

Considering the extravagance of the room, I have to check what's up with the bathroom. And as expected, the bathroom is luxurious. My highest hope was a clawfoot bathtub or something I could relax in. Then my eyes spot a Jacuzzi! I want to collapse in amazement.

It is all too much to take in for an assistant cook, but who am I to complain? My new boss is probably generous to compensate for his mysterious lifestyle.

Full text
Scan QR code to download application