Chapter 1The Billionaire's Sleep Consultant

A prominent billionaire family in New York was hiring a high-paid "Sleep Consultant" with one single condition:

You can coax the young master to sleep, but you absolutely cannot sleep with the young master.

I got the job solely because I lacked ambition and loved money.

After officially starting, the young master intentionally made things difficult for me.

First, he got me drunk. Then, with his bathrobe half-undone, he tried to force me to violate my professional ethics and took pictures as blackmail.

In a fit of rage, I used his bathrobe belt to tie his hands and feet, bullying him right back.

"If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!"

If I was going to lose my job, he wasn't going to get a wink of sleep tonight either.

* * *

Looking at the massive line of gorgeous women ahead of me, I was dumbfounded.

The "easy $10,000-a-month gig" my friend told me about had a waiting room that looked like a Miss America pageant.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, in all shapes and sizes. Aside from me, every single person was busy touching up their makeup.

The Vance family, one of New York's absolute top-tier billionaire families, was currently mass-recruiting Sleep Consultants.

They were incredibly generous, hiring seven candidates at a time, each given a one-night trial.

Even if you didn't pass the trial, you still got paid for a full week's work.

The only catch: you had to pass the initial interview.

I graduated with a degree in psychology, although I hadn't worked a single job related to psychology since leaving school.

But $10,000 could solve a lot of my problems.

My younger sister could focus on her SAT prep instead of working three part-time jobs over the summer.

My grandmother's nursing care fees would be covered, meaning we wouldn't have to rely on my aunt's charity and endure her constant sneers.

Even if I failed the trial period, I'd still walk away with a couple of thousand dollars.

But looking at this fierce, competitive "spectacle" in front of me...

"Hey girls, are you all here applying for the Sleep Consultant position too?"

I asked a few of the beautiful women chatting nearby, just to make sure I wasn't in the wrong place.

They looked me up and down, their eyes filled with disdain upon seeing my completely out-of-place, casual outfit. "Obviously."

"Heh, 'Sleep Consultant.' Who knows what that actually means," one scoffed.

"I heard from people in their circle that the young master, Arthur Vance, used to throw wild parties all the time when he studied abroad."

"Yeah, I heard Arthur Vance plays rough. He won't get sleepy until he tortures someone to the point of passing out..."

"No wonder they need one girl per night. Who could handle that?"

"If you actually think they're paying $10,000 just to have someone read bedtime stories, you're kidding yourself."

I shuddered.

So it really isn't a decent, legitimate job.

Sigh. Looks like I made this trip for nothing.

I decided I was going to eat every single gourmet pastry provided in the waiting area to make up for the Uber fare I spent getting to this Upper East Side mansion.

Just as I was full and preparing to sneak out, someone called my name loudly.

"Next, Chloe Davis."