“He's got a reputation for treating tenants poorly.”
Alina had no idea whether that was true or not. All she knew was that she was terribly excited about the future. It had started with an ad she'd seen in the national press. She'd never heard of Ryan Jacobson or his company, but she wanted a job, and she'd always wanted to work in the warmth of California. When someone told her Ryan was a billionaire businessman, the likes of which America had never seen, she'd consigned her hope of success to the trash can. A week later Steffi had called and told her Ryan would be in New York and wanted to talk to her. He'd interviewed her at the St. Regis, where he was staying in a fifteen-thousand-dollar-a-night suite.
She'd worn her best dress and a pair of really chic but extremely uncomfortable heels. She was sure she'd made a fool of herself when she'd shaken his hand, because she’d just stood open mouthed with her hand in his, unable to say anything. It was the moment Alina found out what a powerful aphrodisiac the combination of good looks and wealth could be.
Her interview went by in a flash, and she knew she hadn't listened to him as well as she should have. His blond hair, bronzed skin, angular jaw, and dazzling blue eyes had prevented her from doing so.
“Why would he treat tenants poorly?” she asked.
“He buys buildings and increases rents. Then he kicks people out if they can't pay.”
Ryan didn't seem like that kind of guy, she thought. He'd been pleasant to her, more like a friend than a potential boss.
“Well, here's my stop,” he said. “Good luck.”
Alina began to think about Ryan. Was she perhaps on her way to work for an ogre? Maybe he was rich because he was ruthless. Maybe he even broke the law.
The taxi stopped outside the gates to Ryan's mansion at ten past eight. The security guard had drifted off to sleep and didn't see the beautiful young lady peering through the railings. There was no bell or intercom, so she waited. After a short time, she picked up a small stone and threw it at the cabin. It hit the window, and to her horror cracked it. The guard woke up with a start and ran out, brandishing a baseball bat.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted. “Look, you've broken the window.”
“Sorry. I...didn't mean to. I thought maybe...you were...”
“I'm calling Mr. Jacobson.” He assumed Alina was late to the party. Ryan and his friends often invited beautiful women like her to their parties. “Mr. Frazer, there's a young woman at the gate. She threw a stone at my cabin and broke the window.”
It wasn't a stone. It was a tiny pebble, she thought. How the hell did the window break? It must have been wafer thin. She hadn’t meant to. Then she imagined Ryan coming down the driveway and telling her off. She'd only been at the house for a couple of minutes, and already she'd caused trouble. Not a good start, young lady, she told herself.
When she saw Ryan, he was walking down the driveway dressed in a pair of white chinos and a navy blue shirt. From his point of view, she looked like a prisoner behind bars. She was holding the bars of the gate, looking at the huge security guard on the other side. He was standing with one hand on his hip, the other swirling the baseball bat in eager anticipation.
“Open the gate and let her in,” Ryan shouted. “And put the baseball bat down. What do you think you're going to do with it? Hit a defenseless young woman?”
The guard reluctantly opened the gate and let Alina in. Ryan shook her hand. “I'm sorry about this,” he said. “Just bear with me a moment.” He turned to the guard. “Why do you think the window is cracked?”
“Because the lady here threw a stone.”
“Correct. But why?”
“Er...” The guard began to think of an excuse.
“Because you were asleep, asleep on duty. This is not the first time, is it? I pay you good money to look after the place, and all you can do is sleep.”
“Sir, I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”
“Darn right it won't. You're fired. Take your things and leave.”
Alina gasped. It was all her doing; she certainly hadn't meant to get the poor man fired. “Mr. Jacobson, it was my fault.”
“No. You did what anybody would have done: try to wake the guy up. No, I've had enough. He's history.”
Alina wasn't going to argue anymore, but she felt desperately sorry for the security guard. Where she came from it was extremely difficult to get a job. Little did she know that in LA, the man would have another job the next day.
“Here, let me take you bag,” Ryan said.