Finch: A Forbidden Desires Spin-Off Story

by Piper Scott

  “Oh, of course.” Hugh nodded. “You’re dismissed. Thank you for your hard work and encouragement. I really couldn’t have asked for a better secretary.”

  It looked like Finch’s lips twitched as if to speak, but he turned on his heel and swiftly exited the room instead. Strange how he didn’t take the stairs to the next floor where the bedrooms were located. Hugh was about to call after him to tell him he was going the wrong way when he heard the click as George unlocked the front door—Astrid was about to arrive. Filled to the brim with hope that this would be the first step toward starting a family, Hugh stood a little straighter and did his best to smile, but fell a little short. How could he be happy when there was something wrong with Finch? He resolved to shelve the issue for now and figure it out later. Astrid was waiting, after all, and the future waited for no dragon any more than it did a man.

  4

  Hugh

  After a terrible moment of heart-clenching anticipation, the door opened, and there stood the woman Hugh hoped would one day carry his clutch. Astrid was as pretty as her picture. Noontime sunlight sparkled in her hair and brightened the blues of her eyes. Her lips were painted a pale pink that sweetened her smile and made it all the more inviting. She wore a royal blue midi wrap dress that was tied beneath her bust. Its cut amplified the swell of her breasts and the shape of her curves, and while they were quite lovely, there was nothing about them that set Hugh alight. He’d imagined that there would be a spark, a pop, a… something when he finally laid eyes on his mate-to-be, but all he felt was empty.

  Something had to be wrong.

  While he made a fool of himself gawking at the woman he’d invited into his home, Astrid bowed her head and curtsied prettily. When she lifted her chin, she caught his eye. Wasn’t his heart supposed to flutter? What was it Finch had said about no creature in the world rivaling her beauty? For the life of him, Hugh couldn’t remember, but he did know that he was not deeply and irrevocably in love.

  “Hello, Mr. Drake,” Astrid said as she held his gaze. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me.”

  No, no, no. All of this was wrong. Panicked, Hugh took a hasty step back. There had to be a way to fix this. The spark had to be there. It was just… hidden. Obfuscated by his anxiety. If Disgraces really were dragons, that spark had to be in him somewhere. All he needed to do to coax it out was stage his introduction to Astrid somewhere he felt more at ease. Once he did, all the pieces would fall into place.

  Determined to make this work, Hugh took a bold step forward and addressed the woman on his doorstep. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but could you step back a touch? Yes. There you go. Perfect. Now, stay.”

  That said, Hugh closed the door in her face.

  “Francis!” Hugh cried in total desperation, fleeing from the door as if the plague were waiting on the other side. “Francis, where are you? Ah! There you are.” Hugh discovered the butler snoring in the sitting room’s most comfortable armchair. “Francis, you’re needed at the front door!”

  The butler snored at him.

  “This is no time for a nap,” Hugh argued. “There is a young lady waiting to be let in. You are to show her to my study, where I’ll be waiting to receive her. It’s only proper.”

  The butler snored again.

  “Francis!”

  “What?” Francis startled awake, then squinted up at Hugh. “Who?”

  “A young lady—Ms. Astrid Forsberg.”

  Francis groped his way across the end table next to the chair until he located a pair of round, frameless glasses, which he promptly slotted onto his face. When they were in place, he narrowed his eyes and scowled in confusion at Hugh. The man was always a little grumpy after being awoken prematurely from a nap. Most times Hugh found his grouchiness charming, but today he was too high-strung to appreciate much of anything.

  “A young lady?” Francis grumbled. “Where?”

  “At the front door, Francis. Please, do keep up. She’s waiting.”

  “Why?”

  “I…” Hugh pressed his hand to his forehead. “Francis, there’s no time for questions. The young lady is waiting. I need to hurry to my study so I can receive her. Please greet her and bring her upstairs. She’s come a very long way to see me, and I’m afraid I’ve already gone and mucked it up.”

  Francis grumbled something under his breath and worked himself stiffly out of the armchair, his joints popping and creaking as he did. When he was on his feet, he shambled in the direction of the front hall, muttering to himself as he did.

  “Thank you, Francis,” Hugh called after him. “Please make sure to bring Ms. Forsberg upstairs to my study. I’ll be waiting.”

  That said, Hugh fled the room and flew up the stairs to his study, where he sat at his desk and did his best to soothe his nerves. Up here, he was in his element. Surrounded by familiar sights and smells, he was at peace. Old leather-bound books, yellowed paper, dried herbal tea leaves, and vetiver—Finch must have been through recently.

  Hugh slumped into his chair and thought about the manservant and how strange it’d been to see him retreat into a room on the ground floor when he’d claimed he was going to tidy the guest room. Perhaps he’d needed to make a pit stop to collect the appropriate supplies. Dust rags, cleaner, perhaps some gloves, although Hugh was half-convinced Finch had a pair in his pockets at all times. The man was equipped for any situation, just as ready to drop to his knees and scrub as he was to throw himself into desk work.

  How remarkable he was.

  Hugh breathed in deep, filling his lungs with the lingering trace of his scent. As long as Finch was around, Hugh had nothing to worry about. The house would be looked after, the Attendants on staff would be supervised, and Hugh’s own life would run with effortless ease. He should see to it that the man took a vacation. Hugh was terrible with dates, but he had a feeling Finch’s birthday was on the way. A little spoiling would be in order. Perhaps he could gift him a watch. Something expensive, but not gaudy. Finch, he thought, would look incredible bathed in diamonds, but he was much too practical to want something so flashy.

  A pity.

  A knock interrupted Hugh’s train of thought. He sat up swiftly and made sure he looked proper, then turned in his chair to indirectly face the door. “Come in.”

  “Ms. Astrid Forsberg, sir,” Francis grumped upon admission. He stepped aside and there stood Astrid, just as pretty inside as she’d been out in the sun. She smiled at him, and while Hugh smiled back, deep inside he already knew that hers wasn’t the smile he wanted to see for the rest of his life. Something vital was missing. He’d talk it over with Finch later and get it figured out. There was no mess good, reliable Finch couldn’t tidy up, and Hugh was of the opinion that his mess of a life would prove no different.

  5

  Finch

  Finch threw himself into work that day to avoid both Hugh and the visiting Disgrace. It was a temporary solution at best, but entirely necessary. Until he could untangle the knot of dread in his stomach, he needed to stay away lest he make her feel unwelcome. After all, one day Astrid might be Mrs. Drake, and Finch would be hers to command. That was a thought that shot through him like an icy arrow and chilled his blood.

  In time he would adjust to it.

  In time, but not now.

  Attempting to put it all out of his mind, Finch joined the very flustered maids on their daily cleaning of the residence. He knew, distantly, that he was getting in their way, but he didn’t let it bother him. Finch needed, more than anything in the world, to be busy. Then he wouldn’t have time to meet lovely Opal Disgraces or think about what the future might hold.

  Finch finally allowed himself to retire to his rooms when it was near midnight. Wearily, he undressed, put on a t-shirt and pajama pants, then made a cup of tea. While it brewed, he took a piece of shortbread and placed it on a saucer. He also grabbed two chocolate chips from a tightly sealed container he kept on his small counter and put them next to his biscuit.


  In the living room, he put his tea and snack down on an end table and went to greet his girls. “Hello, ladies. How are you this evening? Were you good while Daddy was working? You were? Are you sure?”

  Eleanor and Elizabeth hopped about, both clamoring for Finch’s attention.

  “Come on, then. You can both come out.”

  With the usual pleasantries out of the way, Finch opened the door to their cage. Elizabeth launched herself up his arm with Eleanor right behind her. Elizabeth settled on his left shoulder and Eleanor on his right. He smiled at them both, then asked, “Would you like a chocolate chip?”

  That was, of course, a rhetorical question.

  Finch settled down in his favorite chair, then gave each of the rats her treat. While they munched contentedly, he picked up his tea and took the first sip. It was perfect. Soothed by it, he loosened his shoulders and sighed contentedly. It’d been a hell of a day, but it was over, and after a good night’s sleep he’d be much improved.

  Finch had relaxed for perhaps ten minutes when he was startled by frantic pounding on his door. It spooked the girls, who ran to the back of his neck and tried to hide in his shirt. He fished them out, put each in a separate pocket of his sleep pants, and answered the door.

  Hugh was on the other side. He was wearing his favorite banyan, which was embroidered with thousands of tiny purple dragons, over silk pajamas. The sight of him on Finch’s doorstep took him by surprise, but only for the briefest moment. Of course it was Hugh. Who else could it possibly be? No one else would be witless enough to bang on his door at such a late hour. But what kind of emergency would drive him out of his room in the middle of the night? Especially with a lady guest visiting. Finch was baffled.

  “Hello, sir,” he hazarded. “Can I help you?”

  “No, no. It’s… uh… fine. Yes. Fine. I’m fine. No help needed. Er… may I come in?”

  Hugh rarely, if ever, came to Finch’s room. Finch couldn’t remember the last time Hugh had been inside the suite.

  “Yes, sir. This is, after all, your house.”

  His employer stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. For some odd reason, that made Finch’s heart beat faster and harder. Hugh seemed oblivious, however. He wandered about the space, making a great show of looking at things but not touching them. “Ah, yes, but these are your rooms and they should be inviolable, but dammit, I didn’t know what to do!”

  “Sir. Please sit down.” Finch ushered Hugh into his favorite chair, put the girls back into their cage, and closed it. “I’ll just be a moment. Would you like some tea?”

  “No… I… wait. Yes. I would like some. Thank you. It might steady my nerves.”

  Finch went to his small kitchen, washed his hands, then turned on the kettle. He prepared the tea exactly like Hugh preferred it—sugar, no milk—in a cup made from porcelain so fine it was nearly translucent. Finch put the cup on a matching saucer, added a spoon and a shortbread biscuit, then took the tea out to his employer.

  “Thank you, Finch. You’re an angel. I’ve no idea what I’d do without you.”

  He tried to keep those words from filling him with pleasure. Hugh didn’t mean them. Not really. They were just nice and polite things to say. “I’m sure you’d find a way to carry on, sir. Is there something I can help you with tonight?”

  “I… yes. I need somewhere to sleep.” Hugh looked up at Finch with imploring eyes.

  Finch sat down abruptly on his tufted footstool. “Excuse me?”

  Hugh cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “There is a young lady occupying my bed.”

  “Astrid?” Finch asked. His stomach lurched sickeningly. “Astrid is in your bed?” He’d known deep down that it was the purpose for her visit, but somehow hearing it from Hugh made the knot of dread in his stomach knit itself a thousand times tighter. “Was it…” Finch was at a loss for words. A wounded part of him desperately wanted to know if Hugh had consummated their hours-old relationship, but couldn’t bring himself to ask it. He finally settled on, “Was it what you’d hoped for?” Although that didn’t explain why Hugh was here and not there.

  Hugh shook his head. “It was blasted awkward, to be honest. I was in bed, reading, and Ms. Forsberg entered my room. She was very pretty, in this shimmery white robe which I much admired. Then she let it slip off her shoulders and she was naked underneath. Well. Nearly naked. And she’s very beautiful, and a dragonet, so it should’ve been fine, but it wasn’t.”

  “It wasn’t?” Finch echoed. He stood briefly, grabbed his now cool tea, and knocked back a great swig of it despite its tepid temperature. Before Hugh could reply, he sat back down.

  “No! I couldn’t, well, you know. Maybe I was too startled. And she said she could help me with that, and she touched me and…”

  Finch swallowed enough tea to drown himself.

  He both did and did not want to know.

  “And, sir?” he asked, unable to resist.

  “And I bolted!” Hugh exclaimed. “Decamped from my own bedroom. Told her I’d forgotten something and I’d be right back, which was clearly a lie, because here I am. Please help me. I don’t know who else to turn to. You’re my oldest friend.” Hugh paused. “My oldest human friend,” he amended.

  Hugh had run from a beautiful Pedigree omega trying her level best to seduce him. Finch felt a stab of pity for the poor woman. That was an excessively harsh rejection. Not that Hugh had meant to be unkind. He was just a bit thoughtless sometimes.

  “You’ll need to apologize,” Finch said. “What you did was quite rude.”

  “I didn’t expect her to jump me in my bedroom on the first evening,” retorted Hugh, bristling.

  As much as Finch empathized with Astrid and understood her actions, Hugh had a point. But if he hadn’t brought the girl here to bed her, why had he asked Finch to summon her at all? Finch massaged the bridge of his nose. “Should I take that to mean you don’t wish to try to mate with Ms. Forsberg?”

  Hugh recoiled, which was a very strange reaction. “God, no,” he replied, in the same tone he’d have used if Finch suggested Hugh get randy with the topiary. “She was all wrong. Very pretty, yes, but all wrong. Completely wrong.”

  Finch sighed, but on the inside was deeply relieved. “Yes, sir. I’ll try to do better with my next selection. Although Astrid did fit all of your wishes for a potential mate.”

  “Hm. Yes.” Hugh chewed on his plump lower lip thoughtfully. “Well, Astrid isn’t the one, obviously. Perhaps we’ll get luckier with the next one.”

  “To keep this situation from happening again, you may wish to lock your bedroom door in future, sir. At least when we have guests.”

  Hugh’s eyes grew quite wide. “But then how could you bring me my breakfast? I can’t go without breakfast.”

  “Of course not, sir,” Finch assured him. “But not to worry. I have a key.”

  “Oh! Well, then, yes. Locking my door seems like an excellent solution. Thank you, Finch. I sincerely have no idea how I’d get on without you.” Hugh’s happy expression fell. “But now I’ve nowhere to sleep.”

  There were no extra rooms made up for sleeping, save Astrid’s room, and sending Hugh there seemed like a terrible idea, especially as she might have departed Hugh’s room and gone back there. “I could see if she’s left your room, if you wish.”

  Hugh seemed to think it over, then shook his head. “No. Too risky. What would you say if you found her there? I don’t want to hurt her feelings any more than I already have. I could sleep on the sofa in my study, I suppose. Are there extra blankets? Do you think it would be comfortable enough? My feet might dangle off the end if I don’t sleep with my knees bent. I can’t imagine that would be good for my back, not that I have back problems, but I might if I sleep like that.”

  Finch sighed. “You’re more than welcome to sleep in my bed.”

  “Oh. Well, if you don’t mind…” Hugh seemed to cheer up.

  Finch did mind, but sleeping one night o
n a sofa wouldn’t kill him. “Not at all, sir. I’ll just grab my pillow and you can have the bed to yourself. I’ll bring your breakfast in the morning, as usual.”

  Hugh’s face fell. “Oh.”

  “Sir?” Finch asked.

  “I had no thought of throwing you out of your own bed, Finch. What an absurd idea. No. We can share your bed. With us being such good friends, there’s no need for you to go sleep elsewhere.”

  “I…” Finch was at a loss for words. He felt a fluttery sort of excitement mixed with horror and fear settle inside his body like a trapped butterfly. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.

  Hugh stood up. “It’s quite late. I think we should retire. I don’t snore, and I’m sure you’re far too well-mannered to keep me awake. This will be fine. You’ll see. I used to sleep with my manservant all the time, you know.”

  “You, uh, did?” All eloquence had fled from Finch’s mouth.

  “Oh, yes. Before hotels were common, I often shared an inn room with my valet. And while you’re not my valet, since such things aren’t necessary anymore, you do serve me in many of the same ways. So this is quite correct. We are two men, sharing a bed. And yes, I’m your employer, but I’m also your friend.” Hugh smiled at Finch brilliantly.

  “Yes, sir. I… well… I suppose we should go to bed.”

  This had terrible, awful idea written all over it. Finch really should have insisted upon the sofa. It looked tolerably comfortable and was markedly void of attractive, clueless reptiles. But somehow he’d let Hugh talk him into it, and now he was in the position of sharing a bed with his employer.

  It might be the best and worst night of his entire life.

  He’d be sure to get absolutely no sleep at all.