Married By Magic
Book 2 in the Magical Love Series
A movie star and his former maid get magically married to each other in a parallel universe.
Armand Beauregard is a grumpy asshole of a movie star. I was his maid until he fired me.
A year and a half later, I am doing great, getting engaged to my lovely boyfriend and falling asleep in his arms.
But the next morning, I wake up in the bed of Armand Beauregard and find out we are married to each other.
Everyone around us acts as if we are happy together. Guess what? Armand Beauregard is the last man on Earth I would ever wed. He may be one of the sexiest men alive, but he’s also a jerk.
Until we figure out how to escape this curse, we are stuck together.
I just don’t understand why I start getting butterflies in my belly whenever he’s around.
A year and a half ago, I fired Jordana Rosales, my maid at the time. She shouldn’t have disrespected me.
I thought my former employee would remain in my past until this morning, when out of the blue, she pops up in my bed and, I’m ashamed to admit it, but I got chills. It turns out we are magically hitched.
There’s certainly a way to get rid of Jordana, right? Not only is being married to her bad for my image, but she also infuriates me.
If only I could have fun with other women while I search for a way to set me free of the curse and Jordana. But the women I approach are not keen to get involved now that I am tied up.
I only date actresses; I don’t fall in love with maids. Then why does my heart palpitate every time Jordana enters a room?
Married By Magic
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“A little piece of advice, Jordana. If he’s in a bad mood, just stay quiet and do your job.” And I intended to do that. Until he showed up.
“Yeah, it wouldn’t be the best first impression if I annoy him. Do you think he’s in a bad mood today?” I removed the warm loaf from the bread machine and cut slices on the marble island.
“You may be in luck. His girlfriend is coming for breakfast.” Maria wiped her hands on the white apron tied around her black dress.
“Good, because if he’s crabby, I’ll make him regret his bad temper.”
She let out a laugh, dusting the counter while I arranged the bread in a basket. She’d worked for our boss for years. I’d only started three months ago without running into him.
Armand Beauregard was one of the hottest movie stars in Hollywood. I hadn’t watched any of his films or TV shows yet, but I had put a few on my Netflix list and seen him in passing during some interviews on TV. He was sexy as hell, and I hoped I wouldn’t drool when he came. Was he more beautiful in person than on screen? We were complete opposites. He had more money he could ever spend while I barely made ends meet, depriving myself of the things I wanted. Among the staff, he, indeed, had the reputation of having mood swings. I usually was in charge of the bedrooms, but today, Maria needed my help with the breakfast service. A part of me wasn’t in a hurry to interact with my boss, but still, curiosity fluttered inside me.
I grabbed some oranges from the fridge and made some juice. The kitchen was twice the size of my apartment. Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes, when my thoughts wandered, I’d let myself dream this house belonged to me. Being a maid was never a dream. I’d stumbled into the opportunity and seized that chance. When I’d been a teenager, I’d aspired to manage my own spa. But reality had shown me I would never make it happen.
I went into the dining room and prepared the table for breakfast, making sure everything was in order. In the last couple of months, I’d saved enough money to take evening classes and offer my boyfriend basketball game tickets. He had never been to a game, and I wanted to surprise him. I was happy in love with Edouardo; still, a part of me I couldn’t control yearned for something bigger.
When I returned to the kitchen, Maria took out the eggs and bacon from the fridge. “Don’t forget to serve them water first, next coffee, then the orange juice.”
“Got it.” I poured the juice into a jug. My boss would come downstairs soon. My fingers tingled. I eyed the entrance from time to time, feeling an apprehension about meeting him, which surprised me. “Has he ever yelled at you?”
“No, worse.” Riveted, I looked up.
“There was this one time,” she said while I hung on her every word. “My shift started at 5 a.m., but I arrived a few minutes earlier, and as I entered the kitchen, I saw Mr. Beauregard having sex with his girlfriend on the island counter and—”
A laugh raced out my lips. “Oh, my gosh! What did you do? What did they do?”
“I was so uncomfortable, even more than them. I blabbered. I couldn’t form any coherent words. I didn’t know where to go. And they were completely naked!”
“Did you see his—”
“Yes! And I couldn’t move. My feet were glued to the ground.”
I couldn’t stop laughing, just imagining her face at the sight of our boss’s junk. “Did he say something?”
“He said…” Her voice turned gruff, trying to imitate our boss. “Maria, good morning. Do you mind waiting outside?”
We laughed louder this time. I couldn’t imagine how embarrassed I’d be if I had seen his rod by accident.
“Get to work instead of gossiping around.” Mr. Beauregard’s voice thundered behind me, and my heart burst in my chest. Oh, shit! Did he hear the whole thing?
I whipped around, my hands curling around my middle. “We weren’t gossiping, sir.”
My tongue glided over my lips at the stunning sight before me. He was definitely more beautiful in person. To be more precise, he was hot as sin. My heartbeat stopped at first, then accelerated. He had an electrifying presence about him. His blue gaze pierced me, sending heat scurrying over my skin. Something about him intrigued me. Underneath the hardness, a vulnerability and sadness pierced through. It might have been my imagination, but when I looked deeper, his eyes revealed he was trapped somehow and begged to be freed. Shiny black hair framed his beautiful face and a casual black t-shirt with a pair of blue jeans wrapped around his muscled body.
No wonder he was a movie star; he was magnificent. Except for the scowl that perched on his forehead. What was his problem? Was he still upset because he heard us laugh?
“I’ll be eating here today.”
“Oh, but I already set the table in the dining room.”
He threw me a dark stare—“Today, I’m eating here.”—and hovered over me. I had to tilt my head to keep my eyes on his while my pulse quickened. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Heat zipped to my cheeks in mortification. “No, sir.”
Splendid. He had to be in a bad mood the first time I met him. Giving me one more icy stare, he moved away and plopped down at the booth. Chills rippled along my spine. That didn’t look good. I placed silverware on the table, struggling not to glare at him. No way I would let his grumpy attitude bother me.
While the coffee machine roared to life and slices of bacon sizzled in the pan, I served him his glass of water. “Here you are, Mr. Beauregard.”
A pout hung on his lips. “Who are you?” “I’m Jordana Rosales.”
“Jordana.” Curiosity tinged his voice as his tongue wrapped around my name like he licked the word.
An involuntary shiver ran through me in response. Argh.
As he drank the water, the muscles in his arms and his pectorals rippled. His puzzling magnetism sprung a desire in me to snuggle close. I washed away that thought. He was my boss. If I didn’t want to get fired, I needed to stop staring.
The nutty aroma of coffee danced around me as I prepared his coffee the way Maria said he liked it—with almond milk and a small spoon of brown sugar. I might try this mixture someday for myself.
“Here you go.”
He took a sip of his coffee without a glance. I had no idea why he was grumpy today, but the guy could at least appreciate what his staff did for him.
I then brought over the basket of bread. “Would you like some fresh-squeezed orange?” “You don’t need to ask.”
Couldn’t he just say: Yes, please. Thank you very much? While I served him juice, the salty perfume of the scrambled eggs, mingled with bacon, tickled my nostrils, and I licked my lips.
My gaze shifted to his. The skin between his eyes creased as he glared. What now?
Once Maria filled a plate with the scrambled eggs and bacon, I placed the dish in front of my boss. As tension soared between us like a wall of bricks, I tried to ignore it and focused on my tasks.
He grimaced, pushing the plate toward me. “The eggs are too cooked.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” I shrugged and set the salt and pepper on the table.
He kept staring as if waiting for something. What the hell does he want now?
Finally, he shook his head, pursing his lips. “Maria, make me other eggs, please. Softer this time.”
“Right away, sir.” Maria got right to it, breaking new eggs into the pan.
What? Like she would redo them until his grumpy ass would be satisfied, which I bet didn’t happen often?
“Are you serious?” I glowered at him. “What the hell do you want me to do with these eggs?”
He squinted his eyes, likely thinking I had some nerves defying him. “Throw them away.”
My stomach turned at his careless attitude. Being wealthy didn’t entitle him to waste whatever money he possessed.
“No,” I said. “I can’t do that.”
He trapped me with his glare, freezing me to the tiled floor.
“Just do as I say.” His tone promised he would unleash his wrath on me if I didn’t obey.
I hadn’t eaten a lot this morning, so instead of getting rid of the eggs, I set the plate on the island, and as he looked down at his phone, I discreetly swallowed a forkful of the dish while Maria finished cooking another batch of eggs. Mmm, the eggs melted in my mouth. Too cooked, asshole? Since he was in a mood, he wanted everyone around to be just as upset.
He could shove his grumpiness up his ass; he would not ruin my good humor. Armand’s glower zeroed in on me. “What are you doing?”
I froze while finishing my mouthful. “Um, someone else has to eat them since you refuse to.”
His dark gaze made goosebumps skitter up my spine. What would he do to me?
“Didn’t I tell you to throw them away?” “I didn’t think it was the right choice.”
“I’m in a very bad mood today. Don’t add to it.”
I’ve noticed, bastard. But I wouldn’t let him intimidate me with his bad temper. I put another forkful of eggs in my mouth.
The frown on his face grew, making my insides twist. “Who are you to disobey my orders?” “Someone who has more compassion than you.”
“That’s enough!” He shot to his feet, banging his fist on the table. “I said, ‘Throw. Them. Away.’”
Ignoring the icy chill crawling through me, I crossed my arms in defiance. “No.”
As he stalked toward me, panic clawed at my chest. I scurried around the island to keep my distance.
“If I catch you, ah, you don’t want to know what I’m capable of—” “Okay, enough,” Maria cut in. “Mister Beauregard, your eggs are done.”
“Good,” he said to Maria, then looked daggers at me. “Bring them to me.”
After he returned to the booth, I put the new plate down in front of him. He’d better eat them this time.
He tasted his eggs and then shook his head. “Is it too much to ask for a decent breakfast today, Maria? They’re not cooked enough this time. You need to try again.”
What an asshole! His behavior revolted me. Being famous didn’t give him the right to be difficult.
“Are you kidding me? Whatever Maria cooks, you’ll never be satisfied, anyway. You’re being a jerk.”
His brows shot to the top of his head. “Excuse me?” “You heard me.”
A muscle twitched across his jaw. Uh-oh, I think I really pissed him off this time. “You’re fired.”
A heavy, rocklike sensation dropped in my stomach. “What?”
With his elbows bent on the table, he linked his fingers, and a smug expression carved on his face. “I’m certain you heard me.”
Fired? My stomach lodged in my throat. I struggled hard enough to make ends meet. Who knew how long it would take to find a new job? I couldn’t afford to lose this one.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t fire me. That’s not fair.”
He slowly stood up, his arms folded against his torso. “I do whatever I want, and right now, I want you to leave my property.”
My body shook with panic and dislike for the insensitive fucker. There was no way to make him change his mind.
“You’re a jerk.”
With a fluid gait, he advanced toward me, showing off the power he had over me. “Yeah, I heard you the first time.”
“I hope you will pay for this someday.”
He twitched like my words scared the shit out of him. “What does that mean?”
I lifted my shoulder. “Whatever you think it means. When you’re mean to people, it will bite you in the ass one day. It’s guaranteed.”
Once home, I’d remove all of his movies and TV shows from my Netflix list and find comfort in my boyfriend’s arms.
Armand Beauregard had no soul, but at least I would never have to see his grumpy asshole face ever again.