by Cynthia Dane
Jasmine had a million questions. She wanted to know how such an arrangement worked out. Did they live there in return for their services, or did they also get a wage and insurance plan through Ethan? Did they work every single day? From how Belinda prattled on about changing her dinner plans that night, Jasmine garnered that was a yes.
“You like stroganoff?” The stout woman patted Jasmine on the arm. “I’ll make it tonight. It’s one of Mr. Cole’s favorites, and we haven’t had it in a while.”
Harold, on the other hand, was a quiet man who was more focused on taking Ethan’s bags and making sure he was comfortable. He spared Jasmine one more glance, judging her.
She stood in the entryway of the house, frozen solid under the weight of this man’s thoughts of her.
“Will the young lady be staying through the weekend, sir?”
Ethan looked at Jasmine, left behind in the foyer. “Possibly. She’ll be staying for dinner, at least.”
“Should I prepare a room for her?”
That schoolboy smile was almost dashing on Ethan’s face. “That won’t be necessary.”
With that, the relationship was solidified in this house. Jasmine avoided eye contact with Harold and suddenly felt silly in her pretty dress and frizzy side ponytail.
“So what do you think?” Ethan returned to Jasmine after the help left the room. “It’s not gigantic, but I don’t want a lot of space. It’s wasteful.”
You’re not a man who wastes much at all. He certainly did not waste time. “It’s very charming.”
“Charming.” Ethan studied her in the same way Harold had only minutes before. “Come,” he said, taking Jasmine by the hand again. “Let me show you the reason I bought this place.”
Their feet echoed on the marble flooring as they walked toward the back of the house. Large windows brought in copious amounts of sunlight that nearly blinded Jasmine. After lowering her hand from her face, she saw Ethan open a balcony doorway, and felt him tug on her arm until she followed him outside.
“It was mostly like this already when I moved in.” Ethan leaned against a railing overlooking the backyard. Jasmine sucked in her breath, not because she was frightened, but because she was overwhelmed by the sight before her.
The most beautiful garden she had ever seen spread for at least five acres before her, swirling in a rainbow-coded wheel. Brick paths weaved in and out, and birdbaths, feeders, benches, and even a pool accented the various spots around. But Jasmine only had eyes for the overload of colors as they came together in a rich and vibrant world that she never once thought would belong to Ethan Cole, Mr. Black and Navy Suits Only. Sometimes Gray.
“Are they Italian?”
Ethan’s body grew tight before he released a guffaw that spooked a bird out of a tree.
Belinda brought them iced tea before they went for a walk through the gardens. Ethan told his lover about the man who owned this place before him. “An artist. I had never heard of him until then. But he was old, starting to go, and his family wanted to sell the house and set him up in a luxury assisted living facility where he could die with some relative dignity. I insisted on keeping the same gardener to take care of everything. I also bought the man’s remaining paintings.”
“Where are they?” Jasmine hadn’t noticed any art hanging on the walls yet.
Ethan smiled. “In the penthouse. That place was dreary and needed some color.”
Jasmine stopped for a second before continuing the tour. Those paintings in the penthouse? The ones she admired every time she was there? She assumed Ethan had nothing to do with them. Yet he was the one who bought them and hung them up there!
“I never took you for a guy who likes color so much.” Jasmine stopped in front of the violets and sniffed one. Impressive that they were blooming so early in the year. Then again, it had been a mild winter.
Ethan didn’t answer. He was too busy checking something on his cell phone before pocketing it again. Always working.
“Hey!” Jasmine plucked a violet and presented it to her boss. My kinda-boyfriend. Whatever. “Speaking of color.” She stuffed the flower in his front pocket, admiring the way it stood out against the pinstripe jacket. “There you go.”
The flower fell out of his pocket and fluttered to the ground. “Well then,” Ethan said. “Nevertheless, I love flowers. The more colorful, the better.”
“Why?” Jasmine followed him farther into the depths of the garden. “Let me guess. Because they’re basically vaginas.”
He stopped and looked at her through concerned eyes. His hand lifted, and the next thing Jasmine knew the back of Ethan’s hand was touching her forehead. “Maybe you’re still a bit hung over. Or just drunk.”
Jasmine batted his hand away. “But why do you like flowers so much?”
“Because they’re delicate and vibrant at the same time. My two favorite qualities.”
His eyes lingered on hers before he turned away and headed toward the rear of the garden, where trees shaded a small path through a wooded area. The grass was green and fresh beneath their feet, and Jasmine had half a mind to ask how big Ethan’s property was.
The afternoon was like a date he never asked her on. No, because he expected it of me. It was Saturday, the day Jasmine was expected to drop everything for Ethan whenever he wanted. Before he had only asked for the occasional dinner and night back at his place. Now he wanted to spend the day with her, showing her around his property, including the crystal-clear streams flowing through the green grass and the mushrooms he claimed to have once spent an entire day trying to identify with nothing but an old book left behind by the previous owner. It should not have surprised Jasmine based on what she knew about him so far, and yet she stood dumbfounded as he plucked two mushrooms out of the ground and started talking at length about them. If someone had ever told Jasmine that she would give the youngest billionaire around head in his Italian car and then listen to him prattle on about mushrooms for two minutes, she would have quietly gotten up and left the room at the absurdity.
Yet here they were, and Jasmine was falling in love.
No one had warned her that this would happen. She hadn’t even warned herself thoroughly enough. But there was something about the way this man, and his expensive clothes and designer sunglasses, walked briskly around the woods, taking care to not step on anything precious while still uprooting this mushroom and that one trying to convince her that they weren’t poisonous. “They don’t taste good either, but they’re edible.” Even his voice, full of a low-key zest that only served to draw in the people around him. Like Jasmine, who knew how passionate he could be in the bedroom, but was only now seeing him for his true self.
Her heart ached in her chest. It was frightened, torn between the reality of the situation and the thought that she could possibly be in love with anyone. She wasn’t even sure if it was love. It is. Oh God… When Ethan stood up and asked her what was wrong because she looked so sad, Jasmine could only force a smile and run into his arms.
She wanted to feel him around her, sharing his breath with her as they rocked together beneath the rustling limbs of the tall trees. Forget your stupid contract. Ethan clutched the top of her dress before holding the back of her head and bringing it forward to kiss her tenderly. I would do anything for you. The more she thought it, the more her heart filled with a sense of wonderful dread. I want to make you happy. Arms tightened around his shoulders. Don’t you know how wonderful it would be if we stay together? She dug her forehead into his chest and hoped to feel something coming from his heart.
“Come on.” He released her, took her hand, and pulled her into a meadow.
Jasmine was barely connected to reality for the rest of the afternoon. Even when Ethan teased her, got bossy, or stopped to show her some affection, she was in another world where she tried to sort out her thoughts and feelings. With the ground dry enough to sit on, Ethan lay down, jacket and all, and convinced Jasmine to join him in the sunshine.
The next thing she knew, the afternoon had passed, and they took the long trek back to his estate to have dinner in the formal dining room. Since she was a professional cook in her own right, Belinda did a wonderful job, and made sure to shower Jasmine with all sorts of compliments as she served her and then went into the kitchen to eat her own meal with Harold.
“Are they really the only ones who live here besides you?” Jasmine almost couldn’t look at Ethan. Especially now that he had his sunglasses off and she could read his demeanor.
“Yes. I don’t know why I would have anyone else live here.”
“Because it gets lonely?” Jasmine quickly changed the subject. “I mean, I’m surprised that you don’t even have a bodyguard.”
Ethan laughed. “If someone really wanted me hurt, they would find a way. Besides, it’s Jackson who pisses everyone off in the business world.”
Jasmine dropped it, simply because she didn’t want to talk about Jackson.
By that point she made up her mind to stay the night. She had a feeling that Ethan wouldn’t tell her to go home after dragging her all the way here. But they didn’t go straight upstairs after supper. Instead, Ethan took her into a study, where they – of all things – watched a movie on a large screen TV while Jasmine curled up against him on the couch and dozed.
She got the final tour of the house shortly after the movie. Ethan took her hand and guided her upstairs, far to the end of a hallway where a pair of doors led into his intimate domain.
Jasmine didn’t know what to expect. On one hand she expected something like the penthouse: sterile and basic. But after seeing the rest of the house in the yard he held so dear, she almost expected to see something out of a Rococo dream. Maybe not cherubs, but at least the inexplicable fancy of a faraway time.
The man had a large bed, which did not surprise Jasmine. It sprawled in the middle of the bedroom, covered in lush green blankets. The carpet was dark, recently vacuumed, and touching every corner of the room, including the area in front of the balcony doors. A fireplace remained dormant on the other side of the room, surrounded by Victorian furniture and adorned with vases of flowers from the garden. Aside from the dark wood furniture, such as the dresser, wardrobe, and large vanity, there was nothing else of particular note about the room. But that wasn’t to say it was boring. At least in this room Jasmine could feel Ethan’s presence. It was in the open book by the fireplace – a collection of Kafka’s works – the windbreaker left sprawled across the dresser, and the coziness of the otherwise large master bedroom. When Ethan latched the door behind him, Jasmine knew that she was expected to stay in this world for another few hours.
“Let’s take a shower.” Ethan put his hand on her stomach.
She shook her head. “I already took one this morning. You go ahead. I’ll settle in.”
First she thought that he would insist, and she would have no choice but to join him. But after only a few seconds he nodded and walked toward the door at the far end of the room. “If you want to change, there are some clothes in the top drawer there you can wear.”
Jasmine was tired of wearing other people’s clothes, but she didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t going to keep wearing this nice dress for much longer, and sleeping naked didn’t sound much fun either. So while Ethan disappeared into the master bath and turned on the shower, Jasmine walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer.
Ah, here’s his casual clothes. It warmed her to find them like this, neatly folded away, probably by Belinda or someone else. Or maybe Ethan folded them. Who knew? Jasmine picked up the top one and unfolded it so she could read a plain logo from some startup company. It looked too small for Ethan, but just the right size for her. Sure enough, after she shed the dress and pulled on the shirt, she found herself almost swimming in it. Not too baggy that she couldn’t move around comfortably, but baggy enough to give her the space she needed to enjoy its simple pleasures.
Beneath the piles of T-shirts, she found some pajama bottoms that were too big for her to even think about wearing. But then she found a pair of cotton gym shorts that were a little small but had enough give in the waist for her to try out. They fit, snugly, but not uncomfortably. Why are these in here? Then it dawned on her. They belonged to another woman.
Jasmine couldn’t dwell on it. To dwell on it was to invite madness into her mind. While the shower continued to run in the other room, Jasmine dug deeper into the dresser and found an array of old clothes that clearly belonged to someone of the female sex. But these were older, mustier, than the ones she found in the penthouse. It was as if they had been living at the bottom of the drawer for over twenty years.
“MG…” Those were the initials stitched into the collars of some of the T-shirts. On the inside, where nobody else could see them. “MG.” Who did Jasmine know with those initials? It sounded familiar.
Monica Graham.
The shirt fell out of Jasmine’s hand and landed in a lump on top of the pajama pants and startup company logos. Monica Graham. The name taunted her. Not because there may have once been something between her and Ethan, but because of who she was with now. Something was fishy.
“What do you have there?”
Jasmine had never heard the shower stop, yet there Ethan was, walking toward her in nothing but a white towel. He ignored her to rummage through his drawer, pulling out a large T-shirt that would barely fit his figure. Sure enough, it clung to his torso in an almost enticing way.
“This means Monica Graham, doesn’t it?”
Ethan finished dressing and tossed the towel into a hamper. He glanced at the T-shirt Jasmine had in her hand again. “Yes. She used to live here.”
She used to live here! Jasmine looked around the bedroom, trying to imagine a demure submissive as natural as Monica sleeping not only in Ethan’s bed, but sitting in front of the fireplace reading a book or standing on the balcony as she looked upon the beautiful rainbow garden. Certainly, she could imagine it. The place was fine enough for someone like her. Ethan seemed to live a quiet existence, and having a quiet partner would do him well. That wasn’t what bothered Jasmine. It was…
Ethan surprised her by touching her chin and pulling the ribbon out of her hair. Jasmine’s locks fell over her shoulders and down her back.
He lured her to the bed, not with the demand of sex, but to sit her down and look into her eyes with a vague understanding of what she wanted to know. “Monica and I used to date. She used to live here.” His voice was soft enough to send chills through Jasmine’s body. “It wasn’t too long ago. About two years.”
Jasmine couldn’t take it. “There’s something else…”
No amount of petting on her shoulder could make her feel better. Whatever Ethan was about to say was going to unnerve her, and he knew it. “I used to be involved in a situation with her and Jackson.”
“A sexual one?”
“Only with Monica. You could say we shared her. But never at the same time.”
That wasn’t the image flashing in Jasmine’s head. What she saw was an almost broken woman going on a date with Ethan only to be passed off to Jackson at the end of the night. Like a worn-out movie that had been watched way too many times. All the good parts were faded out, and soon it wouldn’t have any worth at all. “What happened?”
“I didn’t want it anymore. Simple as that.”
“So she left to be with him?”
“It was a precarious situation.” Ethan sat on the edge of the bed next to Jasmine. “You’ve seen what he can be like. He’s charming to everyone in front, but in the back he can be quite ruthless. He was getting jealous. Always demanding more of her time. Showing up at weird hours just see her. The man was infatuated. I liked Monica enough as a friend and a lover, but it wasn’t love like that. Anyway, he was way more into that lifestyle than I was. I used to be quite an ass about it as well. Sometimes I blame her for it. She was the type of woman to ask me to use her. But there’s a differenc
e between a woman who asked for that in the bedroom and then outside of it as well. It’s one thing in private to indulge in that world with the woman you trust. It’s another to go to dinner party with her…” He didn’t finish. “What they do is none of my business anymore. I broke the whole thing off before I became too disgusted with him to be able to do business with that man any longer.”
“Here I thought you were a natural dom kind of a guy.”
“Don’t you think so?” Ethan’s hand tightened on her shoulder. The way he looked at her said that he wanted her to recant that statement. “I prefer things to be underneath the surface. What I do with my partner behind closed doors is one thing. I’ll do whatever she asks, and in turn I expect her to do whatever I ask. But there was something about her that disturbed me. She used to be a very vibrant woman.”
Delicate and vibrant. “And?”
“She has changed... I don’t know what else to say other than that.”
