by Ann Raina
Lady Summerston lifted her right brow. “We need to work on your underwear, as I see.” Her gaze met that of Ms. Monroe, who gave the briefest of nods. She knew what to do.
“Underwear? Oh, hmm, maybe, yes.” Michael slipped into the dress shirt, buttoned it and hurried with the pants as if it was a contest of how fast he could dress. Ms. Monroe held the jacket for him to put it on. He shrugged into it, closed the buttons and smiled again. He would have bet it was made for him. It fit around his waist and hips very smoothly. He stretched his arms. The cuffs of the dress shirt were to be seen, the sleeves of the jacket had perfect length. He used to go to work like this. If he made it on Monday mornings. He almost laughed.
“Please, turn around.”
* * * *
Though standing in socks and his blonde hair uncombed, he looked distinguished. Lady Summerston leaned back in her broad chair, right hand at her chin again, and drew a long breath. There was something about Matthew that spoke to her. She couldn’t say if it was the same honesty or shyness that Patricia saw in him, but she felt drawn forward to touch him. It was a strange thought and she pushed it away. Since Charles’s death, she had not been with a man. Maybe, his attraction comes with the suit. She waited until he faced her, a bewildered smile on his face. “Now, Mr. Hathaway, you’ve worked as a handyman, but how handy are you?”
He didn’t know what to say and so just stared at her.
The lady smiled a very teasing smile. “Have you ever thought about pleasing a woman while you were here?”
Michael dropped the smile and his gaze. He did not want to appear bold or give the lady the wrong idea to have stalked her guests. “I guess, I pleased some women in my lifetime, but I didn’t violate the rules here. Never stared at a woman. What do you mean?”
“Imagine that, Mr. Hathaway. A nice woman asks you to accompany her to the opera, then to a restaurant and to drive her home. Your task during these hours is to keep her entertained and happy. Do you think you could do that?”
He shrugged, smile back on his face. “Yes, why not?”
“No, the question is not that easily answered.” Lady Summerston stared at Michael’s face and tried to determine if he was truly worth hiring. Her customers’ chatter had indicated that he would be desirable company, but were a nice butt and a handsome face enough? “Would you also accompany her to a hotel room and serve her with more than eloquent conversation?”
* * * *
Michael wet his lips. He was on the verge of becoming a member of the valuable staff of men in the southern wing. Make no mistake! “I admit, I’ve never thought of that kind of…occupation before, but it sounds very intriguing.”
“It can be intriguing in many ways, Mr. Hathaway. There are women out there who live a very successful and fulfilling life, but sometimes they lack some…thrill in it. Therefore they try to find it outside their boundaries.”
Michael swallowed, aware of keeping his face pleasantly neutral. “You mean they come here to your wellness farm for a kind of…special entertainment?”
“Yes.” Still Lady Summerton held Michael in her scrutiny. This was the hardest part—building up a certain amount of trust. “Are you up to satisfying ladies in more than one way and be polite and attentive throughout?”
If I say yes too fast and without thinking, she will be suspicious. If I wait too long, she will take me to be prudish. “Like I said, I had my share of women, and I’m quite sure I’m up to satisfying them.”
“And if some of these women do not want to solely bed you, but play with you?”
Again, Michael’s head spun to find a proper answer. His mouth was dry. Did she indicate role-play? Staged sessions with extraordinary devices? He realized they all stared at him. His heart beat unbearably fast. Suddenly, he found it hard to talk. “I can’t claim a wide range of experience, Lady Summerston, but I’ve always been open for suggestions. I’m a playful type o’ guy.”
The lady laughed. It was a throaty laugh full of knowledge and hidden thoughts which clearly belonged in a bedroom. “Very well, Mr. Hathaway, I will give you a chance.” Her face sobered. The following words were measured. “And one chance only. You might be a wonderful addition to my escort service or you fail miserably, which would mean that I had to release you of all your duties. I hope you understand.”
Michael nodded. He sweated profusely.
“One more thing, Mr. Hathaway, and mark my words. There is absolutely no talk about our guests. Nowhere. And to no one.” The pause was one of the heavy-weighing she used to keep listeners on the edges of their seats. “I know that—opposite to common opinion—all of you boys are chatterboxes, but I stress that this subject will not be open for conversation anywhere. If you violate this rule, you will be fired.”
He licked his lips. “You mean that—”
“I mean, Mr. Hathaway, that there will be no idle talk about how one woman behaved or what the other took for a drink during the break at the concert. Did I make myself clear?”
“Very clear, milady.”
Upon a short nod, muscle man at the door stepped aside and the secretary turned to Michael.
“Ms. Monroe will show you to your new room. Peter?”
“Yes, milady?”
“You’ll help Matthew move his belongings. The few that might be useful.”
“Yes, of course.” He didn’t sound happy about it.
* * * *
Lady Summerston nodded so that they were dismissed. When the door closed behind them, she turned to Dave, who entered from the adjacent room, both hands in the jacket pockets. His swinging steps and smug smile made her grimace. She turned away and pretended to search for a file on her desk.
“An interesting choice, Kathy-darling. I hadn’t thought that he might be the type of guy fitting your escort service.” The last two words were said as if he spoke about dirty laundry. He went to the bar in the corner, surrounded by shelves, and helped himself to a scotch with water.
“We’ll see. If that’s the old scotch, I would like one, too, if you don’t mind. Skip the ice.” She looked at the closed door, her lips pursed. “Did you check the story about his sick sister?” Dave handed her the tumbler. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. George already did and, yes, the story is true. He already wrote two checks for her. “
“Good. I would not like being lied to.”
“Even such an ordinary guy might hold secrets.”
She shot him a glance. “I hope so, Dave, I hope so.”
“How shall I interpret that, Kate? That you want him to be the guy with many secrets?” It was meant to mock her, but he didn’t succeed.
Lady Summerston looked into her glass, watching the liquor turn. “Ah, Dave, leave that part of the business to me. You know less about women’s extravaganza than fits in this glass.”
* * * *
Dave looked miffed as if the lady had put into words what everybody else already knew but gracefully never mentioned. His nostrils flared. “If you refer to my sexual preferences…”
“I don’t.” Her gaze told him the opposite. She sounded tired. “But, Dave, let’s be clear about this. All of what you and George do is granted because I honor Charles’s wishes. So I ask you—and not for the first time—to let me run my part of the business as I see fit.”
“George said that it draws too much attention to the estate.”
“For heaven’s sake, it’s a wellness farm for the rich and famous! Of course, it draws attention!” She put down the glass forcefully. “I told you before that I would not allow either George or you to interfere with my business.”
“But if…”
“No, David. There are no ifs. I run the wellness farm and the escort service the way I’ve done for five years. I started it way before you both came up with your venture, and don’t you forget it!”
David thought about the venture and disappointment choked his voice. Since the new venture had started, George was often annoyed, short-tempered and by far
more restless than ever before. “I know.”
“Since Charles’s death, this house had been empty of life, and you know how I hate this. So don’t come to me whining that you want to change our arrangement.”
“It’s more George who wants to change it.”
She waved a hand, annoyed by David’s wailing. “Don’t send my brother-in-law to the front! He has never complained. It’s always you complaining like a child that it’s all too risky.”
David put out his lower lip. If the lady just understood what trouble he went through every day! “Because it is.”
She emptied the glass. “Stop being such a sissy!”
Dave drew breath as if hit.
“Life’s risky! You two are the managers of the wellness farm or so I heard. Do your job and leave the rest to me.”
Her tone made him shut his mouth. He put back his empty glass on the board and left the room without looking back.
* * * *
Lady Summerston tasted the liquor on her tongue and gazed at the shelves as if searching for answers. But what she wanted was neither on a shelf nor on any picture she had framed the last years. Every time she was upset like now, she wished for Charles to be at her side. Their marriage had been wonderful and fulfilling in many ways and all what was left now would never be seen on paper. No color would ever reflect the outstanding relationship she had had for so long.
She got up and took his last picture from the shelf closest to the desk. She smiled while her fingertips traced Charles’s features. He had been a handsome man in his youth, a clever businessman in his forties and a gorgeous and generous man in his last years. When he had been sick and known he would not recover, he had urged her to find a new lover, someone to share her life with. He had not wanted her to be alone, knowing that she was full of vigor. However, no man would ever give Katherine the kind of love she needed. He had met her needs as well as her deepest desires. Lady Summerston remembered nights with Charles that still made her sigh with longing. He had always said that because of his stressful job, in which he had to command people, he did not want to decide anything while at home. In the thirty years of their marriage, Charles had granted her full command over the household and also his body.
Lady Summerston put back the frame. Charles’s death had been a tragedy and left a void she did not know how to fill.
Chapter 4
Michael leaned against the empty closet, hands in his pockets, and watched Ms. Monroe pace the room. Door to window and back, wringing her hands, checking her watch. Her face had blushed and there was a deep frown he found lovely.
“First thing, you need a complete new wardrobe. Yours is unacceptable.” She did not bother to smooth the insult with a smile. “I’ll have a tailor here tomorrow morning at ten, so be presentable by that time.” Ms. Monroe reached the window and checked the curtains as if she were here to measure for new ones. “I strongly suggest that you buy new aftershave. If you don’t know which, ask. I can provide you with a list.” Abruptly, she turned and stopped at the queen-sized bed. “New shoes, ties, tie tacks and other accessories are mandatory for your new appearance. I can help you choose if you wish.”
“I would be delighted.”
She seemed astonished, but quickly concealed the expression and moved on. “You haven’t seen a barber recently, right? That’s something on the to-do list, too. Do you have a money clip?” He cocked his head. “Which means, yes, but it’s an old one?”
“It might not fit Armani suits.”
“Very well. That, too, will be provided. Since your engagement was on short notice, I don’t have the required items at hand.”
“I didn’t expect you to.”
That stopped her for five seconds. She shook her head. “Tomorrow, after the appointment with the tailor, I will take you to Washington.”
“You go shopping with me?”
Back at the window, Ms. Monroe sighed, apparently annoyed by his surprised tone and misinterpreting it on purpose. “I do this because it is my job, Matthew. This won’t be like a date, I promise.”
“You don’t have to be hard as nails on me, Ms. Monroe.” He pushed away from the closet, hands out, palms up, and gave her a very innocent, non-threatening smile. He was good at that. “I understand your job and that it is hard to fulfill all demands at the same time.”
“Are you trying to get mushy on me?”
Michael laughed. “You would know when I tried, so the answer is no. I’m overwhelmed with the sudden change, so don’t worry that I expect you to run errands for me. I’ve been here for four weeks by now and truly didn’t count on becoming more than a handyman.”
“You better stay down to earth or Lady Summerston will say bye-bye to you very quickly. She is not known for being lenient.”
“You shouldn’t assume that I’m not lenient either.”
“Did you hear me, Matthew? You better do a good job or your probation is the only time you get acquainted with a lady on the escort service.” She started back toward the door. Michael reached out for her, but she did not stop. “Know this—I’m not one of the women you have to please.” She opened the door and looked back. “But please you must. And they will judge you and the lady will ask how you behaved. Be aware of that.” The door shut behind her.
Michael let out his breath and assessed his surroundings. He had longed to be one of the chosen men. Now he had what he wanted and a smile borne of satisfaction blossomed on his face. He was proud of himself and thought about a very private celebration with him as the only guest.
The change of jobs and living was abrupt, but not hard to accept. From a small, dark house into a room that ranged as an apartment, complete with a breakfast nook, large bathroom and more closet space than he had in his own place. Light blue was the basic color, repeated tastefully in the curtains and wallpaper. The room felt warm, touched by a woman’s hand, no matter the cool color.
Michael checked the breakfast nook. There was a wooden table that still smelled new, four chairs, a cabinet and a medium-sized refrigerator. He opened it to find milk and juice, but nothing that would serve as dinner. He took out the bottle and closed the door again.
There was a knock on the door.
A black-haired maid stood before him, a stack of towels on her hands.
“You’ll need them,” she said and briskly passed him by on her way to the bathroom.
Michael recognized her as one of the women he had—very carefully—tried to talk to.
“Nice to see you again.”
“Yes.” She had a smile glued to her face that was as lively as the towels in her hands.
Michael felt awkward. The maid had not spoken with him while he had been a handyman and now did her best to ignore him again. Somehow he could not make it right. “Do you always work on this floor?”
She left the bathroom door open and went by without even lifting her gaze. The smile was gone as the business was done. “No.”
“What a pity. It seems nice up here.”
A man appeared in the doorframe and while the maid hastened to get out, the man entered self-confidentially. He looked like one of those guys you expect to play basketball all of their lives. Michael realized he was the guy he had met at the sauna.
“It is nice up here. But not with her.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “She hardly speaks a word.”
“Well, she says yes and no.”
“That’s an improvement. Tells me you charmed her.” The man outstretched a hand. “I’m Eric Bletchley. We met before. Welcome aboard.”
“Matthew.” They shook hands. “I just wondered about dinner. I’m starving. Want to grab a bite, too?” He went to fetch his jacket.
“Yeah, sure, but you don’t need your wallet for it.”
Michael stopped in mid-motion. “Why?” Eric flashed a grin so nice, boyish and compelling that Michael returned it unbeknown.
“Come on, didn’t anyone tell you? It’s full service here.”
“You mean…”
> “Yes.” Eric nodded and made an inviting gesture toward the corridor. “You can join me downstairs and have dinner. Homemade. No stuff from a fast food restaurant.” He locked the door behind them. “We got a cook responsible for breakfast and dinner. If you’re hungry around lunchtime you might get a sandwich, too.”
“How come’s that?”
“Lady Summerston wants us to stay healthy. So it’s a very healthy food program,” he added before Michael could ask. “Additionally—and no one will say it aloud—she wants us to eat here because when we go out, it’s with a lady on our arm.”
“Meaning?”
Eric cocked his head and laughed. “You’re new here, I see. Matt, the women want to be seen with you, well, if they go out with you. Which means in reverse, that it is better to stay out of sight when alone.” His gaze was earnest. “This is a very special house. Outstanding.”
“I get it.”
“You should.” They reached the kitchen. A small, slender woman with a blue blouse, skirt and apron worked at the oven. “This is Mona. She cooks for us.”
Mona turned and welcomed the men with a warm smile. Her skin was dark olive, her hair black and bound into a bun in her neck. “Nice to meet you.”
“This is Matthew. He’s new in the team. Matthew, what do you want to eat?”
“Isn’t that my question?” Mona asked quietly. Her English was flawless. “I’m here to fill your hungry stomach. So, what would you like to eat tonight?”
Michael shrugged, not knowing what to say. “What’s on the menu?”
“Do you like chicken salad? It’s light and delicious.”
“Sounds great.” Michael sat down, opposite to Eric, who put two glasses with orange juice on the large table. Mona busied herself behind them at the counter. “Do all men from the team eat here?”
“Sure. Sometimes it’s a crowd. Some evenings—such as today, apparently—it’s just two or three guys stopping by. The rest are busy.”
