The Billionaire's Mermaid

by Amberlee Day

  Cleo wondered what the girl would do, but the balance of power clearly swung to Van. Lily wasn’t happy about it, but she came back in and hefted a pink suitcase in each hand before exiting into what looked like a grand front hallway.

  After she left, Van turned his attention back to Cleo. She gulped, but determined to keep her face neutral. Years of performing had given her that ability, no matter how nervous she felt. And she was nervous. He gave her that look again, the one that said, I’m angry, but I enjoy toying with you.

  When he finally spoke, it was brusque. “And what am I supposed to do with you?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Rivers.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Rivers, again. I thought it was Van. Are we not going to be friends, Mermaid Cleo?”

  “Ah,” she said, trying to meet what she thought might be gruff playfulness—mostly gruff—with unflappability. “I guess we’re back to calling each other by our professional names.”

  He shrugged. “You started it, Mermaid Cleo.”

  “It’s just as well.” Cleo had been lounging on the settee, looking as mermaid-like as she could manage out of water. She swung her tail down to the ground. “Am I not needed here, then? Have I come all this way for nothing?” She used her best mermaid voice.

  Van took a step toward her, his intense dark eyes still on hers. She caught her breath, and did her best to not break eye contact. That was what you were supposed to do when faced by a predator.

  But he’s also flirting, or almost. She hoped he didn’t see himself as some sort of seducer. If he did, it might be good if she left sooner than expected. Besides, it’s kind of working. The thought made her blink rapidly.

  Suddenly he turned and swept an arm at the broken vase lying on the floor. “And what about this? Along with bringing you here and bribing your boss, you’ve probably already cost me ... twenty thousand dollars!”

  “It’s not my fault you put money up to get me here. And surely you’re not blaming me for that,” she said, nodding at the broken shards. “How was I to know there was a jumpy dog in the room?”

  “My dog, my room.”

  “Exactly.”

  “My dog doesn’t normally break family heirlooms. He was provoked.”

  “I could hardly help sneezing—”

  “Because Mrs. Fortney keeps a dusty house, I know.”

  “I never ...” Cleo stopped to catch her breath. This conversation—and probably her allergies—was starting to make her dizzy, and she didn’t want to lose control around this Van Rivers, whoever he was. Clearly wealthy, clearly used to being in charge. Well, he wasn’t going to be in charge of her. “Mr. Rivers. You have employed me for ... well, I’m not sure what exactly, but something to do with thinking your niece wanted a mermaid. Is it mermaid lessons she wants, like we provide at Mermaid Camp?”

  Van blinked slowly in acknowledgement. “That is exactly what you were brought here for, Mermaid Cleo.”

  “And do you still want me to stay on, if she doesn’t want lessons?”

  “Are you wondering if you’re still getting paid?”

  He was testing her, she could see. He planned on paying her—probably—just wanted to see if he could get a reaction from her. But why bother trying for a reaction? She was only a temporary employee, at best.

  “I’m wondering just what I asked. Do you still plan on having me stay and work with your niece?”

  It unnerved her the way he looked at her, like she was a book he was annoyed at having to read, but planned to take his time scrutinizing. Finally, he said, “I guess that depends on whether or not you can convince my niece that you are the perfect birthday gift for her.”

  “And how should I do that? I haven’t really even met her yet.”

  “Change Lily’s mind. Show her that there’s nothing in Florida that she doesn’t have right here. Make her realize that she does want you, her very own mermaid.”

  Chapter 6

  Looking out the window of her room an hour later, several things occurred to Cleo.

  First, except that she was in Canada, she really had no idea where she was. That left a hollow, empty feeling in her stomach. While she was never a geography buff, she didn’t need to consult a map to know there were a lot of places she could be right now. How had she not found out more about this job before coming? Not that Leonard the assistant had been very good about answering Cleo’s questions.

  Second, there was something very soothing about watching snow fall on evergreen trees.

  And last—no, just third: she wasn’t sure if she could convince the very determined Lily that Cleo should stay when Cleo didn’t even know if she wanted to stay herself.

  The last thing that occurred to her confused her so much, she pushed it out of her mind. Pushed him out of her mind. And not completely out, really. More like she stashed thoughts of Van Rivers away in her mind’s closet. She put him high up on a shelf, next to a box of memories she wasn’t ready to think about yet, either.

  Someday, I’ll have to clean out that closet. For now, I need to figure out what I’m going to do.

  Cleo wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay here, wherever here was. She still needed to ask someone about that. She’d tried using the GPS on her phone, but no networks were available. If someone had asked last night if she wanted to go back to Florida, she may have taken them up on it. This morning, though, despite the mishaps, she’d dipped her toes in adventurous waters, and she was ready for an adventure. The enormous house was a mystery to solve, and the people here, though not all friendly, intrigued her. The kind Mrs. Fortney, quiet hired man Gus. Lily had spunk, if not gracious manners, and Cleo appreciated spunk.

  And then there was Van Rivers. Something about him intrigued Cleo. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, but he was definitely attractive. When he looked at her with those dark eyes ... Electric shivers ran through her, and she couldn’t stop thinking about it. But was that a reason to stay, or to go?

  He’d asked if Cleo was short for something ... hmph. She drilled her fingers on the windowsill. He made it sound like there was something affected about her name, like calling a dandelion a rose, and that it was his right to comment on it. Arrogant, snobbish—

  Put it on a shelf, Cleo.

  As far as staying, what did she have to go back to? No place to live, no family. Her boss hadn’t really wanted her to leave, but he also said he wouldn’t hold a spot for her. She wasn’t sure she minded. Part of what led her to Canada was following a strong instinct that she needed a change, and somehow, this was it.

  A quick knock on the solid wood door brought Cleo out of her reverie. She looked up just as Mrs. Fortney let herself in.

  “Sorry to intrude, Miss Willey. Lunch will be ready in about an hour. Will you need help finding the sandwich room?”

  “Sandwich room?” Do they have rooms for every food?

  “Sorry,” Mrs. Fortney said, “luncheon nook is more appropriate. The tradition here is to call it the sandwich room.”

  “Okay. Well, I would love help finding the sandwich room, since I’ve never seen it before.”

  “I guess that’s true. I’ll send a maid up to fetch you when it’s time.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s a map of this place? To help me negotiate my way around.”

  Mrs. Fortney smiled, but looked as if she was being patient with Cleo. “Tell you what. If you end up staying the duration, I’ll see if I can find one.”

  No secrets in this house, Cleo thought. “Sounds like a fair deal. And Mrs. Fortney, if lunch isn’t for another hour, I wonder if you could help me find something else in the house right now?”

  MRS. FORTNEY KNEW EXACTLY where to find Lily. She led Cleo to what she called the school room, opening the door and letting Cleo in without announcing her.

  “Good luck,” the older woman didn’t quite whisper. The look she gave Cleo wasn’t very encouraging, and didn’t help her confidence any.

  When Mrs. Fortney said they were going to
the school room, Cleo had envisioned something very nineteenth-century, with an antique globe, an old-fashioned chair-and-desk combination, ancient alphabet books, maybe even a doll pram and wooden rocking horse. Also, a stern-faced governess with a ruler in hand. Wasn’t that how wealthy children in big houses were raised?

  Considering Cleo’s unrealistic expectations, Lily’s actual school room made her giggle. A very modern bookshelf and comfortable chairs for reading, two small tables sporting laptops, a document camera and screen, and, as if the room offered a nod to Cleo’s preconceptions, a vintage chalkboard with what must have been original wood framework. All in all, an eclectic mix of cutting edge and historical in one room.

  Lily didn’t look up from the laptop she had open, but she must have heard Cleo’s laugh. “You might as well come in,” the girl said, keeping her blonde curls directed at Cleo. “Everyone else does.”

  Cleo entered with a touch of guilt. Clearly Lily didn’t get her way as much as Cleo had originally suspected. She stopped near the girl, hesitating at a striped, festive-colored loveseat. “May I?”

  Lily shrugged her shoulders, but still didn’t look up, so Cleo sat. She wasn’t too worried about the preteen attitude. She’d seen plenty of it at Mermaid Camp.

  “Nice classroom you have here.”

  “It’s a prison,” Lily said. “A classroom has people in it.”

  “Not so bad for a prison.” Cleo bounced in her seat a little. “Nice and comfy.”

  “It’s comfortable, but the Wi-Fi’s the only thing that makes it okay here.” Lily finally looked up at Cleo, and her eyes narrowed. “You don’t look like a mermaid anymore.”

  Cleo had changed into a sweater and capris, and removed most of the glittery mermaid makeup. She shook her head. “Nope. Just looking like a person now.”

  “You still have blue streaks in your hair. Is it dyed?”

  Cleo detected a hint of interest. Her uncle was right, she was impressionable. “Yes. All the mermaids at Florida Adventures have bright-colored highlights. It’s part of the costume.”

  “It looks nice. Why did you pick blue?”

  “I’ve always liked blue. It’s the color of water.”

  “If I had mermaid highlights, they would be pink.”

  “Is that your favorite color?”

  “Yes. My room’s pink, but not pink enough.”

  Cleo took a little hope in the conversation. Maybe Lily would warm up to her. “That’s too bad,” she said. “So, you want to go to Mermaid Camp.”

  Lily turned back to her computer. She had the Florida Adventures website up, looking at pictures of mermaids swimming. “Uncle Van never lets me do anything. He hates me.”

  Cleo shifted in her seat. “I don’t know your uncle well—” Or at all, really. “—but I don’t think he would go to all the trouble of bringing me here if he didn’t care about you very much.”

  “He never lets me leave.” Lily clicked to the mermaid roster. Cleo watched the screen with interest, as many of her mermaiding friends scrolled in and out of view. Lily stopped on Cleo’s picture. “That’s you. Mermaid Cleo.”

  “It is.” Cleo looked at the photo with a curious interest. She knew the website existed, but she’d never looked at it before. Her tan skin and dark hair made her look like one of the Puerto Rican mermaids, though her mother had always said that her father was Polynesian. The photo wasn’t a bad one. A good hair day, she thought with a shrug.

  “You really do come from Mermaid Camp.”

  “I certainly do.”

  “It says, ‘When she’s not in the water, Mermaid Cleo enjoys crafts, big band music, and tacos.’”

  “Hm. I’d forgotten that I’d said that.”

  “What kind of crafts do you do? Nobody here makes interesting things. Gus does woodworking, and Mrs. Fortney crochets.”

  “And you don’t like those things?”

  Lily shrugged. “I don’t know what I like. What do you like?”

  “Actually,” Cleo said, lowering her voice to a confidential level, “I don’t know what I like either. I’ve always liked the idea of crafts, but I spend so much time in the water, there really hasn’t been time to try anything.”

  Lily pointed at the laptop screen. “Then why did you say you liked crafts?”

  Cleo looked at her photo again. It had been taken two years earlier, right after her grandfather died. Good hair day or not, the smiling girl in the picture didn’t betray the pain and loneliness she felt with his passing. “I guess I said it because I thought if I ever spent much time out of the water, I wanted to see if I could be a crafty person.”

  Lily studied Cleo, thinking about that. Finally she nodded her head. “That’s me, too. I don’t know if I’m a crafty person, either. But right now, I want to be a mermaid.”

  Cleo nodded, relieved to have broken the ice a little. “What part of being a mermaid appeals to you, Lily?”

  Lily tossed up her hands, as if it was obvious. “Everything.”

  “Do you like the tails?”

  “Yes, but I don’t have one yet. Where did you get yours?”

  “I actually have three tails.”

  This clearly impressed Lily. “How many did you bring with you?”

  “All of them.”

  “Can I see them?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Can I try them on?”

  Cleo looked at the tiny girl, who was several feet shorter and about half as big around as Cleo. “You can, but I’m afraid they’ll be too big. Mermaid tails are meant to fit very snugly.”

  “If I went to Mermaid Camp, could I have one?”

  “Yes, just to borrow, though. I would have brought one for you, but I didn’t know if you already had one, or what size you wear.” That was one of the questions Van Rivers’s assistant had neglected to answer, not that she even knew for sure she’d be teaching mermaiding.

  A determined glint lit up Lily’s eyes, reminding Cleo of the girl’s library entrance with her pink suitcases. “If he won’t let me go to Mermaid Camp, at least I can make him buy me a tail.”

  Cleo raised an eyebrow. “Make him? Your Uncle Van didn’t strike me as someone you could make do anything.”

  “Oh, I can make Uncle Van do lots of things,” Lily said with all the confidence of a ten-year-old girl. “You just need to know what to say.”

  “Interesting,” Cleo said.

  “If you’re going to stay, I’ll teach you how it works.”

  “Sounds like a deal.” Cleo felt a weight drop from her shoulders as she and Lily smiled in agreement. It was replaced with a butterfly sensation in her stomach. It would be interesting to learn more about what motivated Van Rivers.

  One battle down. Now I just have to figure out what comes next, and what I’m going to do for two months in the same house with that hotheaded, attractive man watching me. Or flirting with me. She wasn’t really sure which to call it, but thinking of the challenging way he looked at her in the library, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep Van Rivers on any shelf for long.

  Chapter 7

  Cleo suspected that Lily took her the scenic route on their way to the sandwich room. At least, she hoped that was the case. If navigating her way around the massive house didn’t get easier than what she’d experienced so far, Cleo was fairly confident she’d wind up needing a search party to find her at some point.

  The room really was just a nook off the kitchen, as Mrs. Fortney had indicated. A bench window seat wrapped around one side of the table, with chairs on the other side to round out the seating. Mrs. Fortney was just setting a plate of triangle-shaped sandwiches next to a steaming tureen of soup, the perfect lunch against the snowy backdrop outside.

  “Tomato soup and grilled cheese,” the housekeeper said. “You two go ahead and help yourselves. I’m just going to take Mr. Rivers his tray, and I’ll be right back.”

  “Oh, doesn’t he eat lunch here?” Cleo spoke before she had a chance to think. She bit her lip. Of course th
e wealthy man wouldn’t eat with the help, and maybe not even with his niece.

  “Certainly not. Mr. Rivers likes his lunch—”

  Mrs. Fortney was interrupted by her employer’s abrupt arrival. Cleo nearly gasped when that fluttery sensation she’d felt earlier rushed through her.

  “I hope you were going to end that sentence with hot, Mrs. Fortney.” He seated himself in one of the white chairs. “Mm-mm. This looks delicious. Sit down, ladies. Nobody likes cold grilled cheese. Do you think I could trouble you for a plate and a bowl, Mrs. Fortney? It looks like we’re short one setting.”

  The housekeeper looked as stunned by Van’s appearance as Cleo felt. This definitely didn’t look like the norm to have him eat lunch in the nook.

  He wants to interrogate me more. See what sort of bad influence I’ll be on his niece. The thought of him coming to test her sent a happy shiver up Cleo’s spine. She liked a good challenge, and Van looked to be an interesting sparring mate. And an appealing one, in a tall, dark, and brooding kind of way.

  Cleo followed Lily as she scooted into the window seat. No doubt about it, Lily was surprised by Van’s presence, too. The girl looked back and forth between Cleo and Van enough times that Cleo wondered what was going on in her little blonde head.

  “Do you think that eating lunch with me will make it okay that you got me the wrong thing for my birthday?” Lily asked.

  “Lily Bean,” Van said in a firm but almost playful voice, “getting a present at all is something that most little girls would be grateful for.”

  Cleo unsuccessfully tried to stifle a giggle, and Van’s eyebrow lifted in response.

  “Yes, Mermaid Cleo? Please share with the class, so we can be amused, too.”

  “Sorry. I’m just wondering how a middle-aged bachelor knows what most little girls would be grateful for. Are you presenting yourself as an expert?”

  “Exactly!” Lily exclaimed. “That’s just what I keep saying. He never listens to me. I’m glad there’s another woman around who understands.”