Training the Help [Hedon Falls 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

Hedon Falls 3

Training the Help

Unemployed and running out of resources, Sophie LaPlante is desperate for a job when the perfect one appears before her. A wealthy couple from Hedon Falls requires a live-in housekeeper, and Sophie is just what they’re looking for.

Jack Sullivan, a powerful CEO and Dom, is married to actress Kendra Hughes. He immediately senses submissive tendencies in his new housekeeper. His wife can never be the sub he needs, so while Kendra is away on a film shoot, he begins to train Sophie. When Kendra returns, she joins the training to explore her own Dominant desires. While their sessions were not intended to involve sex, they find themselves fighting a losing battle against their mutual attraction.

The three of them are caught up in a web of lust, guilt, and infidelity, all complicated by an ex-boyfriend who can’t leave Sophie alone.

Genre:
BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

Length:
55,589 words
 

Hedon Falls 3

Michelle Graham

MENAGE AND MORE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Ménage and More

TRAINING THE HELP

E-book ISBN:
978-1-62242-864-9

First E-book Publication: April 2013

Cover design by Harris Channing

All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of
Training the Help
by Michelle Graham from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Michelle Graham’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Graham’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com

For my husband. We’ve been together for many years, and though we’ve had our share of rough patches, I feel closer to you now than I ever have. Thank you for your love, support, and patience. I love you.

Thank you to Stacey, (the best beta reader ever) for your helpful suggestions and willingness to work with me to make this story so much better than when it began!

TRAINING THE HELP

Hedon Falls 3

MICHELLE GRAHAM

Copyright © 2013

Unemployment sucked.

Sophie flipped through the pile of mail—all bills, all overdue. She had been out of work for two months now, having been laid off from a local hotel that went under. Her unemployment cheques were small and she was getting further behind on everything. She looked at the envelopes. Hydro—past due. Gas—past due. Water—past due. The list went on. She was on the verge of losing her apartment. If she didn’t find work soon, she would find herself out on the streets.

Maybe I should just become a hooker, she thought.
I could make my own hours, work from home and have a damn good time doing it.
Shaking her head she opened the paper to the classified section and started looking again. It seemed the ads didn’t change very much. Fry cooks, secretaries, technicians. She wasn’t qualified for any of those. She had been calling the local fast food restaurants and coffee shops and no one even called her back. She had even tried a two-day stint in telemarketing, but she just wasn’t pushy enough to make any sales and had been told not to return for day three. The ads for massage parlour attendants were starting to look pretty good.

As she neared the end of the column, an ad caught her eye. Housekeeper, she read.
Live-in housekeeper required for large estate home. Some cooking required. Must have driver’s license and previous experience. Salary plus room and board.
Sophie excitedly circled the ad. Five years of housekeeping at the hotel gave her plenty of experience. She could follow a recipe as well as the next girl. And having room and board, too? That solved the problem of the apartment and all the bills.

Sophie picked up the phone and pressed the talk button. Nothing happened. She pressed it again with the same results. She glanced at the bill pile again. Spotting the phone company logo she pulled out the envelope and ripped it open. It was a Notice of Disconnection. Perfect.

With a sigh, she stood and grabbed her coat, a pencil, and the paper. She checked her pockets for change and came up with a dime, two pennies, a mint, and a gum wrapper. She took her wallet out of her purse and found a nickel. After rummaging around her purse for a moment, she upended the entire thing onto the kitchen table. Her search yielded another nickel and a few more pennies. Sophie groaned in frustration. The perfect job was just a phone call away and she couldn’t find enough damn change to use the pay phone!

Twenty minutes later, the sofa cushions littered the floor, the contents of the kitchen drawers lay scattered across the counter, clothes were tossed across the bed with pockets turned out, and Sophie finally had the fifty cents needed to use the phone. She headed out the door and to the variety store on the corner, one of the few places that still had a pay phone.

Sophie double-checked the number. She didn’t have enough for more than one call and if she got a wrong number she was screwed. After carefully dialing, she listened to the ringing. Three times. Four. Five. Sophie was about to hang up, in case a machine answered, when she heard a voice say, “Mr. Sullivan’s office. May I help you?”

“I’m calling about the ad in the paper for a housekeeper,” Sophie said.

“All right,” said the voice. “If you leave me your name and number, someone will call you back.”

Sophie stared up at the roof of the phone booth. “Actually,” she began. “I’m having some issues with my phone right now and I’m calling from a pay phone. Is there any way I can talk to someone now?”

“Mr. Sullivan is not available at the moment,” the voice replied icily. “I suggest you call back. Good—”

“Wait!” Sophie cried.

A beat of silence. “Yes?” the voice snapped.

“Could you just put me on hold until he’s able to talk?” Sophie asked desperately.

“You want me to put you on hold?” the voice responded.

“Yes! I’ll wait!” Sophie said eagerly.

A second later the familiar sounds of a watered-down, instrumental version of a pop song started. Sophie sighed in relief. She could do this.

Ten minutes later, after listening to the same song on an endless loop, Sophie was ready to rip the pay phone out of the booth. She’d be singing the song for days to come! She had just about neared her breaking point when a masculine voice came on the line.

“Jack Sullivan,” he said.

“Hi!” Sophie said excitedly, then winced at the eagerness in her voice. Trying to tone it down a bit she continued, “My name is Sophie LaPlante and I’m calling about the ad for a housekeeper.”

“Right. We’re holding interviews on Monday at the Hilton Hotel,” Mr. Sullivan said brusquely. “You need to be there for four o’clock. Just ask at the desk and they’ll point you to the room. Bring a resume.”

Sophie jotted the information down in her day planner. “Monday, Hilton, four o’clock,” she repeated. “I just wanted to tell you—”

“You can tell me at the interview,” Mr. Sullivan cut in. And before Sophie could respond he had hung up.

Sighing, she followed suit and returned to her apartment. She was about to insert her key into the lock when she noticed the door wasn’t closed quite right and at a slight push it swung inward. Sophie quickly stuck her keys in between her fingers so they were jutting out and she could use them against an attacker as she’d been shown in a self-defense class. The light was on inside the apartment and although she had left in a hurry she was sure she had turned it off. She quietly slipped in the door, her eyes darting around.

She jumped at a crash from the kitchen which was followed by a loud, “Shit!”

Dropping her hands to her sides she threw down her purse and slammed the door. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” she muttered and stalked into the kitchen.

Bent over in front of the refrigerator was a tall man with scraggly, dark brown hair that was hanging loosely over his collar. He was picking up pieces of a shattered drinking glass and cursing under his breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Tony?” Sophie asked.

Tony straightened up and grinned at her. It was a boyish, “Aw shucks. You caught me,” kind of grin. There had been a time when that grin would have had her heart racing, but now she just found it kind of irritating.

“Hey, Sophie, babe!” He held open his arms to her. Sophie pointedly crossed her own arms across her chest and glared at him. He dropped his arms and his smile slipped a bit. “I just wanted to see you, babe,” he said. “You know I miss you.”

“Tony, we broke up four months ago,” Sophie reminded him. “You can’t keep coming over here. How the hell did you get in, anyway? I thought you gave me back your key after the last time.”