Serving Mr. Stevens, Part Three: Masquerade -- An Erotic Romance (Part 3 of 5)

by Nathan Stratton

  Serving Mr. Stevens:

  An Erotic Romance

  By NATHAN STRATTON

  PART THREE: Masquerade

  ***

  Copyright 2013 Nathan Stratton. All rights reserved.

  Reproduction of this work prohibited unless the author grants permission.

  Approx. word count: 11,675

  ***

  NOTE: This is part 3 of a five-part erotic romance.

  It is not essential to read Part 1 and 2 before Part 3, if you are just looking for a quick, sexy romantic read. However, Parts 1 and 2 contain much of the back-story for the book’s plot, and describe the first meeting between Candace and Mr. Stevens.

  Download Part One: The Contract on Amazon.com here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B3DGLR4/?tag=nathastrat-20

  Download Part Two: Lover’s Complaint on Amazon.com here:

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BLTOD34/?tag=nathastrat-20

  ***

  If you’ve purchased this book, please consider leaving a review after reading it.

  I read all my reviews, and I take feedback very seriously. Thank you.

  Contact Nathan at NSthewriter@gmail.com.

  Look for the next installment of Serving Mr. Stevens,

  “Part 4: The Price of Pleasure,” in May 2013!

  Make sure to pick up Part 1 of Serving Mr. Stevens, “The Contract,”

  and Part 2, “Lover’s Complaint,” if you haven’t already!

  ***

  Serving Mr. Stevens

  Part Three: Masquerade

  ***

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: Above the Glittering Lights

  Chapter 2: Passions Denied

  Chapter 3: Man of the Hour

  Chapter 4: Party Favors

  Chapter 5: Masquerade

  Chapter 6: Beneath the Mask

  Chapter 1: Above the Glittering Lights

  Mr. Stevens flashed me one of his trademark dazzling smiles. “There you are,” he said. “Ready for our helicopter ride?”

  Of all the thoughts racing through my head that moment, chief among them was the thought that no matter what, Mr. Stevens couldn’t find out I’d been listening in on him. I desperately needed to find out what he was discussing – it didn’t sound good, that was for sure. And if he really had been talking about me, then maybe I wasn’t as safe here as I imagined.

  But there was no time for that now. Whoever he’d been talking to, it sounded as though that person would be at this dinner party; I’d just have to wait and see what happened there, and keep my eyes and ears open as best I could.

  So for now, there was really only one thing I could say in response to his question:

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, with an outward confidence that was in total contrast to the fear I felt inside. I smiled warmly back at him and took him by the arm.

  “Let’s go.”

  ***

  “Excellent,” said Mr. Stevens, clasping his hand over my own as I looped it through the crook of his forearm. It was exactly the kind of simple, affectionate gesture that would normally have me swooning; I loved how even when he was showing a hint of tenderness, Mr. Stevens still displayed a possessive, alpha-male dominance in everything he did. It’s what made me fall for him in the first place, after all. But after what I’d just heard him saying on the phone, I knew I couldn’t take anything he said or did at face value – not until I figured out just what his plans for me really were.

  As we walked down the long stone hallway of his mansion, I tried my best to act natural; meanwhile, my mind was racing with frantic questions. I knew I should probably say something to break the silence. I wasn’t sure if he noticed how uncomfortable I was feeling, but I didn’t want to give him any indication that something was wrong. But when I tried to think of something to talk about, my mind drew a complete blank. I was still too shaken up by what I’d heard. Luckily, he seemed as lost in his thoughts as I was – probably mulling things over just like I was doing, I assumed.

  I thought back over his conversation. “She stays with me,” he’d snarled into the phone. “That’s non-negotiable.”

  What the hell had he been talking about?

  As we reached the end of the corridor, I realized his butler had been waiting just around the corner for our approach. Oh, no, I thought, groaning inwardly. I was certain that the butler had seen me eavesdropping outside Mr. Stevens’ door. And worse, I was sure he was about to tell him what he’d seen – and after that, I had no idea what would happen to me. As we approached him, I prepared for the worst, inwardly grimacing and bracing myself for the house of cards to come crashing down.

  “Hello, Jackson,” said Mr. Stevens, turning to face the butler and putting his hand on my back between my shoulder blades. “I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to Candace. She’ll be staying with us for some time.”

  “How do you do, madam,” he said, with a perfunctory bow. He looked at me for just a second before turning his attention back to Mr. Stevens. He seemed as though he were anxious to say something. “Sir, if I may have a word with you in private—”

  “Not now, Jackson,” Mr. Stevens replied. “Whatever it is, it will have to wait. Unfortunately, we’re running late for an engagement in the city. There’s no time to spare. Is the helicopter ready?”

  “…Yes, sir,” he sighed. He glanced at me again, clearly wanting to say more. I tried to communicate to him telepathically: You keep your mouth SHUT, damn it, I thought with narrowed eyes. Thankfully, he stayed silent. I knew I probably couldn’t trust him, but at least my secret was safe for now.

  Jackson opened up a nondescript wooden door, and we stepped out into the chilly night. We found ourselves on an enormous back porch overlooking a huge garden, with a pathway leading out to the helicopter. Jackson looked at Mr. Stevens again, all business this time. “Shall I expect your return this evening, or tomorrow?”

  Before answering, Mr. Stevens looked at me and grinned lasciviously. I knew what he was thinking. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for that right now, but I had to smile back at him all the same.

  “Oh, I imagine we’ll be back late tonight,” he said. “But don’t wait up for us. We’ll see ourselves in.”

  “Very well, sir,” he replied, and closed the door behind us.

  “Come on,” said Mr. Stevens, a definite spring in his step as he led me down the garden path to the helicopter, where there was already a pilot sitting in the cockpit. I don’t know if it was the brisk air or something else going on inside his head, but Mr. Stevens seemed to have a renewed vigor within him, excited for the night to begin. It was the polar opposite of how I was feeling: my alarm bells were going off left and right all of a sudden, and I had no time to sit down and try to figure out what was going on. Meanwhile, despite all the danger I felt, I had to pretend to be just as happy and excited as he was.

  All told, it was a lot for a girl to handle.

  But as we climbed into the helicopter, I realized I would soon be getting the respite I craved. What with the noise of the helicopter blades, it was much too loud for us to talk to each other; the pilot gave us a thumbs-up to indicate that we were good to go, and after that no more words passed between us. Mr. Stevens seemed ready to give me my space, allowing me a spacious window seat all to myself while he sat on the other side. I had never been in a helicopter before, and I had to admit, despite the circumstances, I was pretty excited for the new experience.

  He motioned with his hand for me to look out my window, and I turned away from him to the vi
ew outside. As we lifted off from the backyard and pulled above the line of trees, I had to gasp. The forest surrounding the mansion spread out before us like an expansive green carpet, with the last fading rays of the sunset lending a purple-black tint to the dusky sky. Off in the distance, through the haze of a few clouds, I saw the glittering lights of Manhattan. The city seemed to beckon to us, with promises of enchantment and mystery. What a beautiful city, I thought to myself, as I always did when I saw it from afar. I thought back to the first time I’d seen the city skyline, from the window of an airplane when I was eight years old. I’d moved here from a small town in Ohio with my parents, and fell in love the moment I saw it. Though my family had long since moved back to the Midwest, I knew I could never leave this place. Every time I tried, something always brought me back.

  I looked over at Mr. Stevens now, with excited eyes and a delighted smile. He’d been watching me, I realized, and he was grinning with what seemed like genuine affection. He could see how much I loved this, and I knew he was enjoying my reaction. Right now, I felt that same thrill I’d been feeling more and more often with him: that butterflies-in-the-stomach, hairs-on-end elation that comes with new love. I thought back to his phone call. I couldn’t reconcile the angry, suspicious words I’d heard before with the gorgeous, wonderful man I saw sitting across from me. I needed to figure this thing out once and for all, so I could go back to trusting him – because right now, as great as this was, I still felt myself holding back from him, and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep this up.

  It’s entirely possible he was talking about something else, I tried to tell myself. You don’t know everything there is to know about him. And yet, that was the whole point, wasn’t it? As great as he seemed, the hard truth remained that I knew almost nothing about him. I’d entered into this contract with him so eagerly, so blindly. It was time now, I knew, to open my eyes. For if I didn’t, I’d have no one but myself to blame when something went wrong.

  Forgetting those questions for now, I turned my gaze back out the window, watching as the city grew larger before us – and more dazzling. I could make out individual buildings now, and I stared in wonderment at this new, bird’s-eye perspective. I’d stared out at this skyline often enough that it felt intimately familiar to me, even if I didn’t know all the buildings by name. There was the Chrysler Building, its metallic spindle a dusky purple in this light, dusted with specks of gold; nearby, of course, rose the Empire State, grand and imposing, as if it were standing guard over the rest. Within these city limits, I felt instinctively safer. Out in the woods, secluded in Mr. Stevens’ mansion, I had no one to turn to if things took a bad turn. But here, I felt as though the city had my back.

  We began to make our descent, whizzing high above the streets of Manhattan. I could just make out the shapes of taxis, crawling along the city streets in a grid like lines of ants. Coursing through the city, we landed on top of a large, nondescript old building that was remarkable only because it contrasted so greatly with its neighbors. In a sea of towering modern glass skyscrapers, this was a relic from another era. It seemed as old as the city itself, with classical moldings and period details. Gargoyles lined the roof’s perimeter, looking down at the sidewalk below. Of course, the large helipad – taking up almost the entirety of the rooftop – clashed with the antiquated impression somewhat. But still, this building had an undeniable old-world charm.

  But wait, I thought to myself, coming to a sudden realization. That’s strange. For some reason, I’d assumed we were heading to the Stevens Building; after all, if you own a building, it makes sense to throw parties there, doesn’t it? But as I now realized, Mr. Stevens wasn’t hosting this party. Tonight, we were merely dinner guests, and I didn’t know any details beyond that.

  The whirring rotors of the helicopter came to a rest, and the silence seemed almost deafening in its sudden clarity. Mr. Stevens looked over at me, all smiles again. He looked the perfect gentleman, not a hair out of place. Again I was struck by how goddamn handsome he was.

  “Ready?” he said, just as he’d asked me earlier that evening. Déjà vu all over again, I thought to myself. But this time, I was sure of my answer.

  “All set,” I replied, grinning back at him.

  And just like that, he leaned over to kiss me. This kiss was genuine, passionate – there was no trace of tension or hesitation in the way his lips met mine. I closed my eyes, breathing him in deeply, letting myself succumb momentarily to the overwhelming pleasure of it all. Wow. It was a long-lasting kiss, and the effect of it lingered. I had to take a moment to catch my breath after he pulled away. Even after we got down out of the helicopter – he taking me by the hand as I stepped down the metal staircase – my lips were still buzzing a bit.

  “…Where are we, anyway?” I said, just as soon as I could form a coherent sentence again.

  He chuckled, making a sweeping motion around the city with his hand. “This, my darling, is the real New York,” he said with a flourish. He was obviously hamming it up for me, and I just had to giggle at his behavior.

  “You’re certainly in a good mood,” I said, pushing him lightly on the breast pocket of his pea coat. As I spoke the words, I realized that I, too, was filled with a giddy lightness. Despite my misgivings about the whole thing, I was undeniably excited for the night to begin.

  He leaned in closer, and answered me in a conspiratorial whisper. “That I am,” he said, eyeing me with an expression I couldn’t name. “A very good mood indeed. This is an important party, Candace.”

  “It is?” Something in the way he said ‘important’ made my ears prick up with interest. Now my curiosity was definitely piqued.

  “Oh, yes,” he replied emphatically. “All the movers and shakers of New York are here. It promises to be a spectacular evening. Do you know who owns this building?”

  I shook my head. Of course not, I thought to myself, wondering if he was teasing me. I’m just a barista, remember?

  His eyes gleamed with excitement. His voice dropped even lower, barely audible above the evening breeze whipping over the city’s rooftops.

  “This home,” he said, “belongs to Peter Kearns.”

  Chapter 2: Passions Denied

  As soon as he spoke the name, I recoiled as if I’d been shot. Peter Kearns? Instantly, my mind flashed back to the car ride I’d taken earlier, with Mr. Stevens’ driver, Carl. He’d told me all about Kearns – about how he’d tried to steal the business away from the Stevens family, betraying the trust of his lifelong friends. I hadn’t heard the whole story, but from what Carl had told me, it seemed like Peter Kearns was the number one enemy Mr. Stevens’ family had.

  But if that were true, then what were we doing here?

  All those thoughts raced through my head in an instant, and I tried to chase them away just as fast as they came. I realized, of course, that I couldn’t let Mr. Stevens know that Carl had told me his family history. He’d get angry at that, I was sure – and who knows what would happen to Carl if that happened.

  “Peter Kearns? Who’s that?” I asked innocently, turning my eyes upward to Mr. Stevens in what I hoped was a picture-perfect display of naïveté.

  I don’t know what I was looking for in his face – anger, maybe, or the hint of a sinister smile? But Mr. Stevens’ face betrayed none of that. If anything, he seemed mildly amused that I hadn’t heard of him.

  “He’s… an old business partner,” he said finally, after searching a moment for the correct word. “A family friend, if you will. But perhaps more importantly, he knows a lot of influential people. And tonight, my dear, you’re going to meet them all!” He grabbed my arm. “Now, shall we?”

  Without waiting for my response, he whisked me over to a doorway and pulled it open, revealing a small, elegant elevator covered in plush velvet fabric. He held the door open, indicating for me to walk in before him, as if what he’d just told me was of no importance at all.

  “Not so fast,” I said, standing my ground defiantly
– not that there was anywhere I could go, out here on the rooftop as we were. “If I’m going to this party with you, who am I supposed to be? Your co-worker? Your date?”

  I felt embarrassed even having to ask him these questions, but the fact of the matter was that I had no idea how to define our relationship. I could feel a sudden flush around my eyes, and I knew they weren’t watering just from the chilly air. “I’ve never been in a… situation like this, you know,” I finished lamely, the sentence having no hope of conveying the whirlwind of emotions I felt.

  But I didn’t have to say anything more. As soon as he saw the look on my face, Mr. Stevens crossed over to me in a flash, putting his hands around me and pulling me towards him with a firm grasp. “Candace,” he said, a surprising note of tenderness in his voice. I looked up at him, the corners of my eyes still wet with tears. Gently, he leaned down and kissed them away. “It’s all right,” he whispered – and the calm, simple way he said it made me believe him. He moved his lips down to meet my own, and I tasted the salt from my tears as he kissed me. I closed my eyes and savored his touch completely, forgetting everything but him. He kissed me again, our passion rising, as if being held in check through the long helicopter ride had only made it stronger.