by V. Vaughn
Alexander’s face lights up with pleasure. “Oh good.” A pan clatters on the stovetop after he grabs it from a cabinet, and he announces, “I’m making you an omelet. What do you like in them?”
“Just cheese.”
He glances over his shoulder at me and says, “What did you think about the back-door action scene?”
I frown for a second before I realize he’s talking about a racy sex scene. My cheeks heat up, and I stammer. “Ah... um... reading it was a first for me.”
Alexander leans across the island toward me and waggles his eyebrows at me. “They’re deliciously naughty, though, aren’t they? Anal is the new blow job.”
His tone isn’t lecherous. It’s as if he wants to giggle with me. But coffee spews from my mouth as I choke. Alexander rushes to my side to thump my back. “Are you okay?”
I manage to gulp in air and say, “Fine. I have no desire to critique the sex scenes.” I glance down at my hands as I hold my mug, and I clear my throat to ask, “Where is Sebastian?”
“Working.” Alexander wipes up the coffee I spit on the counter before he turns to the pan on the stove.
I still don’t know what Sebastian does and am about to ask when Alexander mutters as he scrapes at the pan. “Damn it. Why is this sticking?”
I don’t think he cooks often. “Did you forget to put butter in first?”
He turns to me. “Of course!”
I chuckle as I get up. “Let me.”
“I’m sorry.” He flips on the water to wash out the pan. “I wanted to make you the first breakfast you have here.”
He’s so sweet. I wonder if he’s got a crush on me too, and it makes me smile. “It’s fine,” I say as I open the fridge to look for butter. The contents are neatly organized, and eggs are cool in my hand as I grab two more. “I’m used to cooking for myself, and with Bertha, I bet I’m not going to do it much now.”
“You’ll get to make breakfast. She comes in later.” I find it curious that I live here but she doesn’t and decide that maybe she has a family.
As butter sizzles in the pan, I ask, “So what am I doing today?”
“We get you ready,” says Alexander. Metal clinks on a bowl as he whisks the eggs for me. He grins at me as if he has an exciting secret.
“What does that mean?”
Alexander says, “You’ll see.”
“You aren’t going to tell me?”
“Nope.” He hops up on the counter next to the stove and sprinkles the cheese over the egg in the pan. “Want to talk more about the book with me?”
“I—” I glance at him to see he’s grinning, so I shake my head. “I think I’ll save my thoughts for Sebastian. That is, unless you want to trade secrets.”
“Nice try.” His feet thud on the floor when he gets off the counter, and he glances at his watch as he walks toward the door. “You better eat up. You need to be in the study in forty-five minutes.”
I chuckle to myself after he leaves. Once I finish my meal and get changed into the only straight skirt and blouse in my closet, I make my way to the study. The doors are open, and when I get inside, Sebastian offers me a hint of a smile. “Good morning, Margaret. I trust you slept well.” He’s standing with Alexander and an older man that’s dressed in a suit tailored to perfection.
“Yes. Thank you.”
The older man walks toward me, and Alexander winks before Sebastian says, “Not bad, Roland, for using a photograph, but I think the skirt needs to be a bit tighter in the hips.”
Roland says, “Yes. The legs are nice. What do you think about shorter?”
They continue to talk about my body as if I’m not there. I glance at Alexander, and he rolls his eyes at me as if this is normal behavior one has to tolerate. When Roland whips out a measuring tape and his pencil scratches as he jots down numbers, I tolerate it just fine, because this has to be for my new wardrobe, and I wonder if I’m being fitted for important meetings or perhaps fundraising events Sebastian needs to attend. Not knowing what the man does is feeding my curiosity.
I’d ask Sebastian, but considering the level of secrecy I’m sworn to, I’m not sure if Roland knows, so I keep my questions to myself. Once Roland leaves, Sebastian notices I’m more than a body as he asks me to come sit on a sofa. He and Alexander place themselves across from me, and Sebastian asks, “What did you think about the book, Margaret?”
I glance at Alexander to see he’s keeping a straight face, but I don’t miss the laughter in his eyes. “It was good. I was drawn in by the story and had no trouble finishing it. I was surprised at the emotions the writer made me feel.”
“Can you imagine reading more?”
I have no idea where Sebastian’s going with this, but I answer honestly, “Yes.”
“What do you suppose the author is like?”
I frown, because that isn’t something I’d considered, and it seems like an odd question. “Ah. I’m sorry, I haven’t got any idea.”
“Margaret.” His tone reminds me of a teacher that’s annoyed with a student for not trying. “Imagine him for me.”
“Okay.” I glance up as I envision the man. “Based on the name, I picture a stocky guy who’s a bit of a hick.” Alexander snorts, and I glance at him to see he’s covering his mouth, but not well enough for me to miss his smirk. I say, “Probably older, because Brock sounds like an eighties name to me. He fancies himself a ladies’ man. But...” I pause as I dig deeper. “He’s got a good handle on what makes people tick. I found the characters’ motivations believable.”
Sebastian leans forward a bit as he asks, “And the sex scenes, did they titillate you?”
I flash to Alexander’s question about anal sex and fight the surge of heat rising up my neck. I’m uncomfortable with the topic considering he’s my boss, so I say, “I’m not sure that’s an appropriate question for you to ask an employee.”
“I suppose not. But it’s an important part of your job, so I’d appreciate it if you’d humor me.”
I cross my legs at my ankles as I recall how I slid my fingers inside myself last night while I fantasized about Alexander, and how for a little while my heart brought Sebastian into it for a ménage scene like the one I read. I speak in a quiet voice as I gaze at the floor. “Yes.”
“Thank you for your honesty.” He pauses before he asks, “Margaret?”
I look up at Sebastian, and he says, “Sexual pleasure is nothing to be ashamed of.”
My ears burn, and it’s most likely my shame that makes me angry as I steel my voice and say, “I’m not ashamed of it.”
He raises his eyebrows at me but doesn’t call me on my lie. “Very well. Because we will be discussing it again.” He says to Alexander, “How’s the list coming?”
“Well.” Alexander gets up and walks over to the desk. He retrieves a laptop that shimmers, and it should, because it was just unveiled last week for a pretty penny according to the manufacturer’s site. He returns to his position on the couch as he says, “Now that I’ve had a chance to see Margaret in person, I have a much better idea of what could work.” Keys click on his laptop, and he leans back a bit to let Sebastian see his screen.
Sebastian studies the list, and his brow knits, then he tilts his head. He raises his eyebrows and finishes with a smile.
My curiosity is intense, and I ask, “What?”
Sebastian points at the screen, and Alexander says, “That was my first choice too.”
“What do you think about the pen name Kitten Kane?” asks Sebastian.
“Kitten?” I ask. “Sounds like a porn star.”
Alexander asks, “What about Kitty? That has a hip vibe to it, right?”
Hip vibe? My lips twitch with the urge to smile since that’s something my mother might have said when she was a teen, but I say, “That is much better.”
Alexander sits a little taller, and Sebastian says, “Your new name, Margaret, is Kitty Kane.”
“What?” I blink as the two men smile at me. “You’re giv
ing me a new name?” A chill races down my spine as I imagine they’re going to keep me trapped here and hide me with a new identity. The shaded-up windows, the—
Alexander says, “Well, you certainly can’t go by Brock McGillis. A wifebeater doesn’t suit you.” He lifts a finger as he squints at me. “On second thought—”
Sebastian cuts him off as he clears his throat with force. I say, “Hold up here. Did one of you write Teach Me?”
Alexander grins like a kid who can finally share his secret as he says, “We both did.”
I guess he’s the one that wrote the anal sex scene, and I’d ask, but then I recall how I caught him checking out my bottom. A tingle of desire runs through me, and since I don’t want to consider the implications of that, I ask, “And now you want me to write them with you?”
“No,” says Sebastian. “But you’re going to pretend you do.”
Pieces of the puzzle of Sebastian Hart and my new job click into place. I ask, “You hired me to pretend to be the woman who writes your books?” I think I’m going to learn more about romance and sex than I ever wanted to.
“We did,” says Alexander. “How fun is that?”
My gaze darts back and forth between the two brothers, who wear suits like most guys wear jeans. Sebastian is serious, while Alexander is playful. Nobody would ever guess these two men write erotic romance. I shake my head, because you can’t make this stuff up.
“So that’s what all the secrecy was about. You want people to think I’m the author and don’t want to take a chance of the truth coming out. Is this my job?”
“Yes,” says Sebastian.
I imagine book signings and fancy dinners with publishers and agents. I think about the fancy clothes I’m going to wear and wonder if I’ll drive a nice car or perhaps be driven to events. I picture interviews where I spout off made-up facts about my life. When I begin to fantasize about a fancy cocktail party on a yacht, I realize this is certainly one way to live large. I grin and ask, “So what happens next?”
Chapter 5
Alexander says, “See, Sebastian? I thought she’d be excited.”
Sebastian studies me for a moment before he says, “You’re going to need to become familiar with our work. We’re killing off Brock and starting fresh with Kitty.”
I nod, because reading books isn’t exactly a hardship for me.
When neither adds more, I ask, “That’s it? All I have to do right now is read?”
Sebastian glances at Alexander, who says, “We have you scheduled for a head shot tomorrow, but I don’t have anything else.”
The two men stand, and Sebastian says, “Alexander, I trust you can help Margaret get the books to her room?”
“They’re ready to go.” He walks over to a corner of the room where shelves of books reach the tall ceiling, and I notice three cardboard boxes on the floor. I follow him and bend down to take a box. Alexander scowls at me as if I shouldn’t have. It’s heavy and digs into my stomach as I brace it with my body, and I decide he might be right. But when I see him pick up the other two to carry in each arm as though they’re feather pillows, I don’t complain.
As we climb the stairs, I say, “You two are prolific. How many books are in here?”
“One hundred or so. I’m not sure.”
One hundred? “Should I take notes?”
He chuckles. “Only if you have questions.”
I roll my eyes because he can’t see me. If I have a question, I’m looking it up online before I ask either of the Hart brothers what a sexual term means. At the landing between the second and third floor, I have to stop to catch my breath. Alexander notices I’m not behind him and sets his boxes down on the next floor to return to me to take mine. His face is concerned, and he asks, “Is it your heart?”
It is, but I don’t want to worry him. “It’s fine. I just haven’t been working out the way I should.”
“You could use my treadmill.” He starts to climb with my box.
His body is a testament to a capable home gym, but I prefer the fresh air. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I could walk outside in the mornings.” I follow him up, although at a slower pace, and the polished wood railing is smooth in my hand. If I’m going to be climbing this many flights on a regular basis, I really do need to get in shape. I say, “In fact, I think I’ll start tomorrow.”
“I’ll let Sebastian know.” He’s reached the other boxes and says, “Don’t you dare touch these.”
“Thank you.”
When the boxes have all been delivered to my room, Alexander gazes at the area where my love seat is situated and says, “Let me know if you need more bookshelves.” He turns to me, and the concern on his face makes warm emotions rush to the surface of my skin. “Are you feeling okay?”
My heart is pounding, and the beat pulses in my ears. “Yes. I’m fine. I just overdid it trying to be stronger than I am.”
He steps closer to me than an acquaintance would, and I hold my breath as he stares at me with an intensity that makes me heat up. He speaks softly, and my knees are suddenly weak. “It’s hard to be strong.” His finger grazes the top part of my scar lightly, and it sends a tingle all the way down to my toes.
I feel as if I’m being sucked into his eyes, and I step closer to him too. I stare at his mouth and notice how red his lips look against his pale skin. He leans in closer, takes a deep breath though his nose, and closes his eyes as if I smell intoxicating. I think he’s going to kiss me, so I reach up to touch his hand, but before I make contact, Alexander steps away abruptly. I blow out the breath I was holding as I stare at him in confusion.
He rakes his fingers through his hair, and it stands on end. He doesn’t look at me as he says, “Enjoy your day reading. Bertha will bring you lunch at noon.”
“Alexander?” He leaves without responding, and the door slams quickly as if he can’t get away fast enough.
He wanted to kiss me, I know it. And I would have let him, so what went wrong? I sink down on the couch with a whoosh and drop my head into my hands. What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be kissing one of my employers. That is such a bad idea on so many levels, and it’s no wonder he ran.
I lean over and grab a book out of one of the boxes. The glossy paperback cover is smooth under my fingers as I study it. This one doesn’t look like it’s ménage, as a girl presses her hands against a man’s naked chest, which is defined beyond perfection. She gazes into his eyes as he looks at her with sexual hunger. The way Alexander just looked at me. I want that. But I can’t get involved with Alexander, so I sigh and open the book to read.
The Hart brothers are good writers, and just like the first book, I get caught up in the story enough I don’t even realize it’s time for lunch until Bertha knocks on my door. My legs are stiff from sitting so long, and I shuffle a few steps before I can walk normally when I get up to let her in. I wonder why I’m eating in my room instead of downstairs, but I’m not going to ask, because I prefer the daylight I have instead of the darkness of the rest of the house.
When I finish lunch, I think about my mother and decide I should give her a call since it’s technically my break. My phone is slick in my fingers as I pull up the contact and hit Call. But it doesn’t connect, and I notice I have no bars. Darn it. I go to settings to try to connect to the Wi-Fi, but I only get a locked connection, and I don’t have the password. I sigh as I determine I’ll have to get it from one of the Harts and try Mom tonight.
I return to my couch to curl up happily as I dig into another book. This is one of my favorite things to do. I’ve had plenty of practice considering the years my heart was too weak for me to run around and play like other kids, and I’m a fast reader. I’m on my third story when I notice the darkness has chased away my light. I haven’t heard from anyone since lunch and decide I should go downstairs to find out about dinner. The house is quiet as I descend the stairs, and I glance around each level. I wonder where the brothers have their rooms, and wish I could explore.
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When I get to the main floor, I see the doors to the study are closed, and my footsteps echo when I step on the wood as I walk toward the kitchen. It makes me think of a horror movie, so I try to stay on the carpets instead. It’s dark, except for a light over the stove. While it’s earlier than when we had dinner last night, I would expect someone would be preparing it.
I’m not sure if I should wait until one of the Harts finds me or if I should fend for myself the way I’m supposed to for breakfast. My stomach growls, so I open up the fridge to figure out what I can have for a snack. I notice a plate covered in plastic wrap and see it’s mashed potatoes, chicken, and green beans that look ready to be heated up. Since I don’t know who it’s for, I leave it alone and grab a yogurt instead.
I find a spoon and wander down the hall to explore as I eat my snack. Like most of the house, it’s dark, and I walk slowly, making sure to stay on the oriental carpets so I can listen for any noise. There is a series of doors on both sides of the hall, and I’m tempted to turn a brass knob to peek inside a room. I don’t, because the last thing I want is to get caught snooping. I take a bite of yogurt and swallow down the creamy goodness. When I reach the end of the hall, I’m disappointed I didn’t find an open room, and I haven’t learned more about my employers. I turn around to return to the kitchen. Suddenly, one of the doors opens, and Bertha comes out. I startle her when she sees me, and she growls out, “Where have you been?”
My first reaction is to lie because she’s angry, but I didn’t do anything wrong, so I say, “I... I just walked down the hall to explore. There isn’t much to see with all the doors shut.”
“You’ll do well to stay to the places you are invited to go.”
“Got it. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Hmph.” She glances at the container of yogurt in my hand and says, “I suppose you want me to feed you dinner.”
“Oh, am I not eating with the Harts tonight?”
“No. Come with me.”
Despite the fact that my heart told me Bertha was a lost cause, I give it a shot. “The meal you made last night was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever had steak that good.”
