Secret Amnesia Baby

Please note that due to the nature of digital products, we do not accept returns or offer refunds on ebook purchases or other digital products.

After purchse, you will receive a PDF with a link to download your ebook from Bookfunnel. This PDF will be instantly available on our website after checkout, and we will also send it to the email address you provided during checkout (please check your spam folder if you don't see it). Bookfunnel will handle all customer support inquiries. Please redeem your ebook within two weeks of purchase to ensure access.

Even by company standards, her skirt was entirely too short.

She argued with herself it was because of the tropical heat. She didn’t want to dress like a schoolmarm in this weather.

Yes. They were concerned with her staying cool. That was exactly what they were after. They weren’t marching her around like a piece of meat to be ogled by a bunch of old white guys.

It definitely wasn’t the reason that the place only hired women as servers, and was in a country where they could get away with such a thing. Horny women billionaires apparently weren’t something this place cared about catering to.

She let out a sigh. It was all right, she figured. The pay she was getting for this was quite nice for the work it entailed, it had a lot of extra benefits, she got to work in the sun, and to top it off? Any tip she got she could legally just keep without having to deal with any tax nonsense. The strange, evasive tax laws of foreign lands helped a girl like her for a change.

Despite all her perks?

She was still an anxious mess.

Everything in order, she slipped on her sandals and went out into the sun.

Part of the benefits package was daycare included. Ruby would be taken care of while she worked, which should have put her at ease.

It really didn’t.

They were on some exotic island. She worried that the lax hiring practices they allowed with servers may have well extended to their childcare staff as well.

Her boss said she’d be with the kids of billionaires, treated no differently, but as a black woman, that was a lie she had heard too many times before.

It’d all be okay, she told herself. It was something she told herself constantly, hoping that she would be able to believe it.

“Maia! Good, you’re here!” An older man shouted at her. “We have orders backlogged, I need you to get to it!”

She nodded. It wasn’t her first day, but she half-expected that it wouldn’t matter.

Immediately, she sprung into action. She carried out the orders. Mostly, it was booze. Beer, wine, scotch, appletinis, whatever. She trudged across the sand, smiled, and put the tray on their nearby table. Every time, she’d look at the man whose finest years were way behind them, put on a playful flirty tone, and speak to them. “Don’t you hesitate in calling me over if you need something now, I’m here for anything you need.”

A smile was on her face as she said it, her soul dying ever so slightly as she stood back up, turned away, and grimaced in disgust. More than anything, she wanted them to hesitate in calling her over if they needed something.

They probably wouldn’t. She was used to being called over to do something that would require her to bend over in front of them. She was thrilled when she was just dropping something off quietly because the rich asshole was on his phone and didn’t want to be disturbed, basically turning this sunshine-filled place into a hot and sweaty office for them.

Over and over, the cycle repeated. She trudged through the sand. She delivered drinks. Sometimes food, like one particular individual who wanted curly fries. In this weather.

The kitchen staff were servants just like her. Whatever these rich assholes wanted, they would get, no matter how weird or obscure their demands.

She reached the end of the starting rush for her shift. An ice-cold alcoholic beverage. Mixed fruits, and probably mixed liquors too.

Her target was at the end of the beach. She made her way over, showing some hustle, knowing tips would be more likely if she brought them a cold drink instead of a lukewarm one.

He was lounging back, his head in the shade, getting a bit of a tan.

Unlike all the other men she had been working for today?

He was actually kinda hot.

Tanned, but he wasn’t a white guy in the first place, but a tanned olive was still much sexier than a pale olive. There were visible abs, a light layer of hair, and his arms? They were thick and powerful looking, but not in the disgusting veiny sort of way. He was in swim trunks, which was a damn shame. He was definitely the sort of man she would want to see in a speedo.

She then mentally slapped herself. He was still a rich asshole like the rest of them. Maybe he was some famous international actor or something like some sort of rock star idol. She didn’t recognize him by his body, as much as she wished she did.

Or... or did she?

She winced. The weirdest feeling of Deja Vu hit her.

“Your drink, sir,” she said, setting down the tray. She thought of maybe getting closer to get a good look at his face, see if maybe he was some sort of male butterface or something, and let that fact calm down her strange lust for the man.

That did nothing of the sort.

She was damn glad she had already put the tray down because if it was still in her hands, she would have surely dropped it.