Deal with the Billionaire Alpha

Steering my car toward the huge brown gates, I blast the horn to announce my presence and wait. In the few seconds it takes for the gate to unravel I appraise myself in the rearview mirror and adjust the brown strands that fallen over my face from the wind as I drove.

As expected it doesn't take up to a minute for me to be granted entry and so I let go of the brakes and drive into the vast compound which housed a beautiful house.

It's a state of the art storey building structured in an L shape with the floor above comprising of only glass. On my first day here I thought it was a show house only to discover later on that it is indeed his residence.

Nicholas Damien Lazarus, 32, handsome, tall, attractive, intelligent and stinking rich is an architect who has made a name for himself outside his aristocratic family. The Lazarus’s were known to be from old money and owned most of the properties here in Los Angeles.

I know you must be wondering why I was in the house of such a renowned man, well Nicholas and I have simple agreement. He needs someone to cook special dishes for him and I need his money.

Parking the car in the garage beside a black range rover, I turn off the ignition and unhook my seatbelt. Stretching over to the passenger side, I retrieve my handbag and basket that contains all the things I need to prepare today's dish.

I give myself a final look in the mirror, my green eyes shining as I check for any hanging leaf from the burger I rushed to gulp down before driving over. Like every other Saturday I alighted from the vehicle, bags in hand.

A ready smile appears on my rosy lips as I catch sight of a familiar face as my black trainers met the concrete. Hair swishing with the light morning breeze I stroll in a red tank top and thigh high jean shorts toward the building.

I nod and wave at the bodyguards who nod in return as I walked past, all dressed in black suit and slacks with a white shirt underneath and blank expressions. There's an eerie aura once you step foot in the compound, one I noticed on my first day.

It wasn't too much to make your skin crawl but enough to make you curious and alert.

“Hey Klein,” I greeted the man whom I could manage to call my friend as I reached the entrance doors. He was one of the bodyguards but appeared to be of a higher rank than the rest hence was the only one whom I had seen about a dozen times since my job unlike the others who seemed to be changed every week.

“Welcome Lu- sorry Chef Lisa,” he bows slightly and smiles at me. He always seems to stutter each time we meet which I find odd hence he isn't a