“What was Mr. King like before the accident? More approachable?”
“Oh, no. He’s always been guarded. The only person he truly opened up to was the Madam’s father and of course, he fell in love with Zackary from the day he was born.”
“Do you think he tolerates all her affairs because he feels guilty?” Mrs. Blackmore asked.
For a moment the butler stopped and looked between us, then he rose to his feet, a look of dignity on his face. “Being with you women for even a few minutes has turned me into a tattler.”
“You don’t need us. You’ve always been one,” Mrs. Blackmore growled.
“I’ll take my flapjacks to go,” he said and rose to finish off his tea elsewhere.
Mrs. Blackmore finished putting Zackary’s breakfast together and I rose too. It was time for me to go get him.
Chapter 29
Charlotte
I dressed in a pair of slim fitting blue jeans and a pretty pink sweater for my night out with Melly. Then, sitting on my bed, I Facetimed April.
“Whoa! You look amazing. What happened to the sackcloth and ashes strategy?”
“The fishwife is not around,” I explained, before I told her about what I heard Mrs. King say to her son.
"Wow!” she breathed. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“To be honest, she sounds like a true psychopath. You know, divide and rule. I know you want to help, but maybe the King family is not your problem. There are all kinds of bad situations going on in the world right now.”
“I know, but I’m not stuck right in the middle of them.” I couldn’t get my mind off the King family members. Zackary’s innocent vulnerability … his father’s terrible and needless isolation, and his mother’s cruel deception. All of it saddened me and made me feel helpless.
“How are things with your ward’s father?"
"Why would you ask me that?" I shot back guiltily.
April looked at me with narrowed eyes. "Er … because you spoke about his voice. Have you had any more interactions with him?"
"Weren't you the one ready to screw my head off for even making such a statement?”
"Well after what you've told me about his wife and their marriage, that doesn’t stand anymore."
"It still does in my book," I said, “and moreover I haven’t got to see him properly yet.”
"I know the burns are probably a serious situation, but the mask makes him sound so … appealing. Does he wear it all the time?”
I felt myself blushing. “The mask covers half of his face."
“Why are you blushing?”
“I kind of saw him in the mirror.”
“What? When were you planning on telling me that? Come on … what does he look like?”
“He’s … he’s … he’s beautiful, April.”
She frowned. “Hang on. You just lost me. He’s got such bad scars he has to wear a mask ...”
“Yes, he is badly scarred, but somehow they make him special. Oh, I know I’m not making any sense. I don’t understand it myself, but they make him … do you know what I mean?”
“No, but tell me more.”
“He has great abs too.”
Her eyes popped open. “You've seen his abs?”
I nodded. “I had to take his breakfast tray to his room. He was shirtless."
"You’re Zackary’s nanny. What on earth are you doing carrying breakfast trays to his room?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
I sighed. “All right. The girl who was supposed to take it was not around and I volunteered okay?”
“You volunteered?”
“Uh … huh.”
She grinned. “So how much did you actually see?”
"Just an outline,” I said quickly. “The details were cast in shadows.”
“Damn, I should pay a visit one of these days to your castle. I'm dying to have a glimpse. You know it's men like this that know exactly what they’re doing. They're all dark and broody and then they pounce and rip your clothes to pieces ...” She wiped invisible sweat off her brow. “God damn it's been a while since my husband did that. I’ll have to rectify the situation as soon as I push this baby out.”
I laughed. One of these days I will tell her what I really feel for Brett King.
“Just to make things clear do you have any plans on getting it on with Mr. Gazillionaire?”
I gave her a dry look. “What the hell is wrong with you? Is this actually coming from your mouth?”
"He's more or less divor—” she said.
"Actually, he's not." I felt the amusement and hilarity of the last few minutes drain away. The truth was no matter how it looked from the outside the arrangement they had set up worked for them and I was the outsider.
Chapter 30
Charlotte
We got into Melly’s Mini and she drove us to The Red Peahen. It was Melly’s favorite bar. It seemed that out of all the others she had scoured, this was the one that seemed to draw the most handsome male patrons. All burly farmer types. I listened to her bright chatter, smiled encouragingly and made all the right noises, but quite honestly, the local eye-candy was the last thing on my mind.
It was Friday night so there was a small band playing in one corner and an area had been cleared in front to serve as a dance floor. Melly assured me it would be heaving later, but at the moment there wasn’t a soul on it. The band was quite good though. They were playing old rock and roll numbers mixed in with a few sixties hits.
Melly bought the first round and we settled into our seats. She tossed an almond at me. "Is this how you're going to spend your night off?"
“What do you mean?”
“Like you dropped your pizza cheese down on the ground.”
I grinned. “I’d still eat it.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered dramatically, “but so would I.”
After that we had quite a nice time and I ended up drinking far more than I normally would have. About nine-thirty a couple of guys walked in and Melly’s mouth dropped open as she pushed her glass away from her. “Did you see that?”
I turned around. A brawny guy in faded jeans and a green shirt had just walked in and made his way to the bar.
I turned back to her. “Did you see the girl he’s with?”
She made a face. “Never mind. That tall guy over there, three o’clock, has been staring at you. Do you want to go say hi or should I step in?"
I lifted my head and true enough, an attractive guy was sneaking looks our way. "Why do you have to make it happen?” I asked. “Let him come over if he's interested."
She sighed heavily. “In case you haven’t noticed, gender expectations are now non-existent. Speaking about gender expectations I haven’t had sex in months and I’d really like to get laid tonight.”
Her eyes connected with a couple of guys standing at the bar she had identified earlier as potential partners. She rose to her feet with determination. “Does the guy in the black shirt seem like he’ll do, or does Mr. Brown Boots beside him appear to have more potential?”
They were passable enough. Not really my type. My type was at the castle. “How am I supposed to know what’ll do for you?” I could feel my words starting to slur. I knew I should stop drinking.
"I need to know who to invest my energy on. They came together so if I pick the wrong one I lose out on both.”
"Black Shirt's got more guns …”
“True,” she agreed and emptied her glass in one smooth movement. Black Shirt stood to his feet then and she sucked in her breath. “Jesus, did you see the ass he’s been sitting on all this time?”
Well, okay, I had to agree. Farmer Black Shirt was worth the walk up to the bar. “Go for it,” I encouraged.
She was transfixed. “I am, but he’s something to behold, isn’t he?” She plopped back into her seat. “I think I’m intimidated.”
I couldn’t contain my amus
ement. "What happened to gender expectations and all that?” I asked. “You were never going to go up to either of them, were you? You’re too chicken.”
She scratched her head, and sent me a sheepish smile. “You may be right. I was hoping I’d be able to inspire you and you’d lead the way. I’m all talk, I guess. Can you believe I lost my virginity at twenty-seven? Yup, and to an asshole too. After waiting that long I thought I would see fireworks, but instead all I remember are the brown stains on his apartment ceiling from a water leak. I swear one of them was shaped like a giant dick."
It would have been funny if it was not so sad. Slamming my glass on the table I pulled her to her feet. I had a decent amount of drink in me so I just took a deep breath and headed over towards Black Shirt and his friend. To my great surprise and delight, his friend rose to meet me halfway, the kindest of smiles across his face.
"Hi," I said to him.
“Hey,” he replied. “You have more guts than me.”
"I'm just a bit more drunk.”
He laughed, and I could feel the nervous tension within me begin to unravel. Maybe I could never have Brett King, but there was a sea of men out there for me. All I had to do was forget him. And what better way than with such a sweet guy.
"Can you stomach one more drink?" he asked with a slow smile.
The band was playing Great Balls Of Fire. There was still no one on the dance floor yet, but what the heck. I smiled up at him. "A dance for now sounds amazing. The drink can come after.”
"As you wish ..." he said gallantly, and taking my hand twirled me to the dancefloor. I dragged Melly with me. I was going to get her Black Shirt for her, or die trying. I glanced back and sure enough Black Shirt was watching us. I began to believe it had been a good call to come out this evening.
No matter what, I was going to forget Brett King … and his fabulous abs.
Chapter 31
Brett
I had spent the last four hours restless and angry. I hadn’t felt this way for a long time. In the end I had tried to burn off the excess energy by training for nearly two hours. My muscles were screaming as I stepped into a hot shower. I toweled my hair as I walked to my trio of computer screens. I would work until I became so exhausted I could no longer keep my eyes open. Work always took me to a place where no other thoughts could come in.
I looked at the numbers on the screen. Usually, that would have been enough to pull me into another world, but tonight I could not get into it. I looked at the clock. Nearly eleven. I stood and went to the bar. I poured myself a very large scotch and downed it in one. The liquid radiated warmth all the way down to my stomach.
I sighed. I knew what was wrong with me. It burned me to look down from my window and see Charlotte leave with Melly. I knew what two girls out on the town did. And Charlotte looked beautiful in a pink, figure hugging sweater and jeans that showed of her curves. It maddened me to think of all the men who would look at her. It maddened me even more to think I had no right over her. As much as I wanted it she was not mine. If she saw my face …
Fuck.
My fist slammed into the palm of my left hand. I poured myself another glass. What if she went home with another man? Jesus Christ, I couldn’t believe I was torturing myself like this. Angrily, I paced the floor. Last orders were at 10.00. The pubs started throwing people out at 10.30. She should have been back by now.
I stopped mid-stride. What if they had met with an accident? Now, I was being paranoid.
I heard the sound of a car, and rushed to my window. I saw a taxi drive up to the gates and relief poured through my body. I wanted to stay at the window and watch her come in, but I forced myself to walk away. I sat at my computer and stared at the screen while my ears strained to hear the sounds in the courtyard. I heard the sound of two doors slamming shut. I heard a giggle. Then it was quiet.
I let go of the breath I was holding. She was back. All was well.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when the intercom buzzed. “Charlotte?” I said.
“Brett, is that you?”
“Yes. Is everything alright?”
“No. I’m thinking of quitting.”
Everything in me instantly stilled.
“Did you hear me?” she asked belligerently, her words slurring. “I’m thinking of … of … quitting.”
I exhaled with relief. Charlotte Conrad was intoxicated.
“Why do you want to quit?” I asked, prepared to be entertained.
Something fell to the ground and she cursed. “I want to quit because I cannot stand the way both of you treat Zackary. You ignore him. His mother feeds him a bunch of lies.”
“What lies?”
“Oh that. I’ll have to talk to you about them later.”
“Why?”
“Because … because it’s very important and I need to be sober, you know what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“I mean, I know that things aren’t easy but … you’re not even trying anymore.”
Again I heard the clatter of something falling and another low curse. I tried not to laugh. “Sit on your bed,” I suggested. All the noise was probably her struggling to remain upright. She was so drunk it was a wonder she was still able to communicate.
“I’m sitting now. That was a good idea, Brett. Anyway, coming back to what I was saying. What was I saying? Oh yeah, you are not trying anymore. I expect better from you, Brett King.”
“Why?”
“I don't know,” came her response. I knew without seeing her that she was frowning. And I knew she would look adorable. “But I … I just know … you caaaaaan.”
“Will you stay if I say I’ll try harder.”
“I guess so.”
A brief silence ensued. “Where have you been tonight?”
“The Red Something. Peahen … cockerel. Some sort of bird anyway.” She burst out in giggles.
“Did you have a good time?”
“I drank a lot and I danced,” she announced innocently, but the harmless information wound up all the nerves in my body. “There was a farmer there. He looked a bit like you,” she added.
My snort was bitter. She knew nothing of what I looked like, but still I wanted to find out how she had imagined me to be in her mind. “What did he look like?”
“A little bit like you, slightly smaller and not as nice obviously, but in the dark, I could have been fooled. However, his voice … I hated it. Yours rumbles … it is low and sexy, his was a ring. I thought I’d suddenly developed that ear disease. What is it called? It’s like a high-pitched ringing.”
I smiled then. “Tinnitus.”
“That’s the one.”
“Brett.”
“Yes.”
“I want to be filled again,” she blurted out suddenly.
I froze. I didn’t need an explanation to understand what she meant, especially at the way her voice became sultry and breathless on the last word.
She went on. “There’s this constant, fluttering ache down in my—”
Her breathing hitched as though she wasn’t even in control of her words.
She groaned. “It won’t freaking stop. It’s hollow and insatiable … and no matter how hard I try I just can’t stop replaying that night.”
The question was torn from my lips. “What night?”
“It was so real I still can’t be sure if it actually happened, or if it was just a dream … but my God. You came at me … your tongue speared me … it was hot and wet … and so was I. Actually, I was soaked. That’s a better term. Soaked. Your teeth bit down on my clit and I explo—”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I was out of my room in an instant.
The lights had all been turned off for the night. The corridors were illuminated only by the external lights and the rays of moonlight. It didn’t matter because I’d been wandering these corridors in the dark for years. I knew the path by heart.
Chapter 32
Brett
https://www.youtube.com/wa
tch?v=2i2khp_npdE
Sing Me To Sleep
As I hurried down the corridors, I asked myself what exactly I was going to do when I reached her. It’s just to ensure that she’s alright, came the response from inside my head. I pretended to believe it. I didn’t allow myself think of the consequences of my action. Later. I will think of them later, but for now, pure unadulterated lust was my guiding light.
Blood raced through me and drummed in my ears. I didn’t even knock, I just pushed the door open and walked through. She was settled on the floor, her legs pushed straight in front of her, and leaning against the bed.
I had not been with a woman in years so I just stood there and watched her. Not just watched, I drank her in. Every last detail.
From the gentle sway of her head nodding to a tune in her head only she could hear, to the soft tilt of her lips in a dreamy smile. My eyes noted that her sweater was the same sweet pink of her lipstick. The neckline had been pulled down by her hunched position and I could see the creamy wing-like protrusions of her collar bone.
In the yellow light her skin looked like silk and the need to taste it overwhelmed me. I wanted to lick that warm, soft skin. She started to rise then, her movements unstable. Instantly, I went to her. With both of my hands grasping her upper arms I pulled her upright and watched as her eyes focused on me.
Damn she was beautiful.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Have you come to help me get into bed?”
“Yes.” My voice was almost a growl of frustration. Pushing the covers aside, I lowered her on the bed. She still had her heels on so I took her foot in my hand and began to undo the buckles. They were fiddly. My big hands looked clumsy.
The Man In The Mirror Page 11
