~Becklan's POV~
Mr. President grabbed my cock.
That was the lie that ruined Leon Verdanis' morning, and honestly, it was the least he deserved.
If the fashion industry knew the truth, they would probably faint, choke, or trend it on social media within seconds. But I didn't care. After what that man did to me, the lie felt righteous. Holy. Therapeutic.
Leon Verdanis, "Mr. President," the twenty-seven-year-old founder and president of Leon Haute Couture, the fashion demon himself, once refused to give me a modeling job because I was two minutes late. Two. Minutes. And as if that wasn't enough, he ruined my second chance at another fashion empire by warning his friend not to hire me.
So when the elevator shook and I stumbled into him, I did what any unemployed, dramatic person driven by revenge would do.
I screamed.
And I said the magic words:
"Mr. President grabbed my cock!"
Everything went haywire in an instant, a whirlwind of panic, shock, and absurdity.
Leon turned red. His assistant panicked. The elevator camera almost wept.
But unfortunately… lies don't pay rent.
When Leon decided to make amends for my outrageous accusation, offering me a job in his mansion, not as a model, but as a maid, I accepted. Not out of shame. For revenge? Definitely. And for the money? Absolutely.
And that's how I, Becklan Kross, future fashion icon and current disaster, ended up here:
Standing before the grand, glossy wooden door of Mr. President's room.
The place looked so expensive it could probably buy my whole neighborhood. I tugged at the hem of my new uniform, white and neatly pressed with silver details that made me look more like I was in a drama than a real job.
I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and gave myself a small smirk in the mirror across the hall.
"Alright, Mr. President," I whispered. "Let's see how long you can survive with me around."
I knocked twice, sharp and firm. "Good morning, Mr. President!" I called, my voice bright like a breakfast commercial. Silence. I waited ten seconds, glancing at my wrist as if checking a clock.
I knocked again, louder this time. "Mr. President! No one's answering!"
I knew the rules, never enter without permission. But I wanted to prove I wouldn't be pushed around. If Mr. President was going to make me serve, then I was going to act like I owned the place, using every corner to show I was in control.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was empty. Mr. President wasn't there.
Until he suddenly emerged from the bathroom, his bronze skin still glistening with dampness, a thick white towel precariously fastened around his hips. He wrestled with it, trying to secure it properly, when his steel-grey eyes caught sight of me, framed in the doorway, hands on my hips.
The sudden shock of my intrusion, the utter violation of his private space, made him freeze. The slight, involuntary jerk of his body was enough. The towel, his only defense, slid silently down his taut stomach and pooled with an ignoble plop at his expensive, bare feet.
Oh. My. God. My plan was working.
"AHHHHHHH!" I screamed, throwing my hands up to shield my eyes. A mix of genuine shock and mock horror. "Mr. President! What is that?"
He grabbed the towel quickly, his face turning bright red with anger. He looked less like a powerful fashion mogul and more like a child caught doing something wrong.
"What is what?" he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
I dropped my hands, letting my eyes sweep over the scene, lingering just long enough to make him squirm. "Your towel fell, sir! My goodness! That just… fell right off!"
I paused, giving a slight, exaggerated shudder, which was mostly sincere.
"But seriously, Mr. President," I whispered, my voice dropping an octave into pure, tempting mischief. "Why is that so big?"
He was momentarily speechless. He looked around the room, as if searching for a hidden camera or a third party to confirm the absurdity of the moment. Naked, being judged on the scale of his manhood by the blackmailing maid he'd just hired.
"Are you asking me why I am naked in my own room?" he asked, disbelief vibrating in his chest.
"Oh! It's your room," I said innocently, giving a little O-shape with my mouth.
He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, cold control had returned, stronger than before. "Will you get the hell out of my room, you idiot!"
"Oh, yes, yes, I should get out," I said, taking a step back, but paused, turning my head over my shoulder like a mischievous schoolboy. I lowered my voice conspiratorially, leaning slightly back into the doorway. "But before I go, could I ask you a question?"
"What is it now?!" he shouted, frustration finally boiling over.
I leaned in conspiratorially, my voice low and husky. "Does this big cock belong to you alone, or is it a shared corporate asset?"
Silence descended, thick, volatile, breathless. Leon glared at me, his body tense, and I could feel the weight of his anger pressing down. Whatever he was thinking, it was clear he wasn't done with me.
"God, you must be the silliest person I have ever encountered," he hissed, his voice dropping to silk, lethal, as he took a slow, deliberate step toward me. "But let me make one thing clear: if I take one more step, Beck, you won't be able to walk out yourself."
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, but I grinned widely, the rush of adrenaline eclipsing any fear.
"Oh my god, I want that so bad!" I teased, throwing a flirty wink.
That's when he noticed my uniform—short, tight, and damn provocative. His sharp inhale betrayed him.
"I hired you to work as a maid, not to come into my house looking like a… stripper," he growled, struggling to maintain control.
I tilted my head innocently, letting my voice drip with mischief. "Mr. President, what do you mean?"
"This isn't the uniform you're supposed to wear," he snapped, his steel-grey eyes narrowing. "So tell me, why are you dressed like that?"
I smirked, leaning a little closer, enjoying the flustered tension radiating off him. "The answer is simple, Mr. President. I wear this because I'm hot, I'm sexy, and I belong in modeling, not stuck in a maid's uniform."
Leon's gaze darkened, lips twitching in a mix of irritation and something else. "Fine," he muttered. "Come… model for me on my bed."
Before he could complete his threatening advance, I slammed the door shut and bolted down the hallway. I didn't stop until I reached the relative safety of the massive, echoing living room. I leaned against a marble pillar and dissolved into quiet, breathless laughter.
"This is just the beginning," I said to the empty room, wiping a genuine tear of amusement from my eye. I was still shaking, but it wasn't from fear. "God, why am I enjoying this job more than being a model?"
I quickly straightened my uniform. It was time for the morning routine: breakfast theater.
A short while later, Mr. President came downstairs, looking impossibly sharp in a dark suit. He took his seat at the massive dining table. The scene was quiet and formal. I, along with two older housemaids, stood stiffly against the wall, watching him eat in silence. This was my audience, and his performance of power.
He finished his toast and put down his knife. He didn't look up right away, making the wait heavy and dramatic.
"Beck," he finally called, cutting my name short.
"Yes, Mr. President," I straightened instantly.
He looked up, his eyes cold steel. "From today, you have been assigned to take care of my pet, Rose."
Rose… nice name, I thought, smiling to myself. If she's cute, she's like me. If she's ugly, well… she clearly takes after her owner, I decided, beaming.
"Rose," I said out loud, cheerfully. "I hope she's a playful little thing, Mr. President. I'm quite good with small, delicate creatures."
His smirk widened, and the two old housemaids standing beside me immediately covered their mouths, muffling sharp little giggles. I looked at them confused, I hadn't said anything that funny.
"Did you hear me right?" he asked, challenging.
I nodded yes, keeping my smile fixed. "Perfectly, Mr. President. Rose is my new responsibility."
He stood up from the table, radiating cold satisfaction. "Good. Let me take you to her room."