"I will,” I assured. “It will help him loosen up a bit. He is a bit wound up most of the time."
"He is? How so?"
"Um," I hesitated. This was not the reason why I had called and I really didn’t want to seem to be complaining or telling tales all the time, but now that I had said it, I had to follow through. "It’s not anything serious. After he spends a bit of time with me he’ll probably stop being so anal about his hair and clothes and shoes."
He was silent for a while. "I know he will learn to loosen up as time goes on, especially with you in charge of his care. I just want it to happen before he starts school. I don’t want him to be different than the other kids or get bullied because he doesn’t know how to behave."
"I think he will do very well at school. He is incredibly well mannered.”
“I hope so.”
“Hey, I wanted to thank you for sending the photos.”
“That’s okay. He had a really good time.”
“I could see that. There was a photo of you too.”
I could feel the fire rush up my throat. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to send it, but he looked so happy there I thought you might want to see it.”
“It was a great photo. I’m glad you sent it. Now I can put a face to your voice.”
Something happened between us. The energy changed. We were no longer employer and employee. I swallowed hard. I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing would come out. I don’t know whether the heavens took pity on me and saved me, decided to punish me because at that moment, the door to my room burst open and Zackary's mother walked in, an expensive dressing robe tied around her tiny waist.
"What the fuck is going on outside?"
"It's just a little playground for Zackary—”
She folded her arms across her chest, her gaze full of disbelief. "How dare you do something like this without asking my permission?”
“His father—”
“Don’t pretend that butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth,” she snarled. “I know it’s you. You instigated this.”
I straightened my spine, determined to get a word in edgewise. “Madam—”
But she cut me off again. “I told you to give my son a little time off yesterday in the garden, and you turn his whole life into a circus show?”
"A circus—”
"They praised you as being the best at the agency, however your actions so far have served only to irritate me and make me think you are not the right person for this job." She looked at me as if I disgusted her.
“Could you please let me explain, Madam?”
"No,” she said, her voice was cold and hard. “I think you’ve done enough damage. I’ve had enough of you trying to undermine me behind my back. You think you can take my place. Hmmm? Well, I’ve got news for you. You’re fired. Pack your things right now and get out of my house. Barnaby will call a taxi for you. Needless to say, I won’t be giving you any glowing references."
I felt my own temper rise to the surface. What did this selfish bitch think? That I was desperate for a ride from her? I made my voice cool and uncaring. "I’ll be packed and gone in an hour. I don’t need a reference from you, glowing or otherwise, and I can get my own taxi."
“We understand each other then. I’ll send Mrs. Blackmore to check your luggage before you leave in case you accidentally pack anything that is not yours.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. You are classy to the very end.”
Her eyes flashed and she was about to say something else when her phone began to ring. When she lifted it up to check the ID, her eyes almost rolled into the back of her head. "Of course," she muttered and with a last glare at me, stormed out of the room.
A barrage of emotions and sensations flooded into me. The first of which was a strange sense of loss which sapped me of all my strength. I had been here less than a week, but it felt like a year. I was just starting to get attached to Zackary ... I had hoped to make a difference and I could already see changes in him. And his father ... I don’t know what I wanted or expected from him. It was all getting too complicated. Maybe this was for the best.
I sank on the bed and looked at the wall blankly. It was stupid but my eyes stung with unshed tears. No crying here, Charlotte. You walk out of this place with your head held high. You can cry all you want when you get home, okay. I swallowed the lump in my throat and had just taken a deep calming breath when the intercom crackled.
“Charlotte.”
Startled I jumped to my feet. The intercom had been on the whole time. "Brett!"
"Don't do a thing," he said, his voice not warm and friendly but so cold and hard I almost didn’t recognize it. "I'll handle this."
The intercom clicked and became silent as he disconnected the line.
Chapter 21
Brett
"Why are you ignoring my calls?" I demanded from the door.
Jillian looked up from her dressing table and regarded me with narrowed eyes. “You came all the way here? I can’t wait to hear what can be so important."
I leaned against the door frame and watched her. With a sigh she turned back to her mirror and continued applying her makeup, but her movements were jerky. She was not as calm as she was pretending to be.
"Why did you fire Charlotte?” I asked, walking into her room. Her cloying perfume made specially for her filled my nostrils, reminding me of a time I wanted to forget.
She snorted in disbelief and whirled around on her stool to face me. "She already came running to you? What the hell is going on? Are you fucking her or something?”
"Take your mind out of the gutter. I am not fucking her. She is our son’s nanny. I was speaking to her on the intercom when you came into her room. What exactly is her offense?"
"When did you become her advocate? And when did it start to matter to you whom I hired or fired?”
“I feel very comfortable having her handle Zackary’s care.”
“You didn’t even want a nanny,” she hurled at me.
“That’s true, but since you've insisted on one, I now acknowledge that you were right. A nanny is a good idea and I can see Zackary has benefited a lot from Charlotte being here."
She glared at me for a moment and then turned her back on me and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. "She was over stepping her authority, I'll get someone else."
My temper began to rise. "I was the one who bought all the equipment and permitted Zackary to play outside. Come to think of it why would you place all these restrictions on him without informing me about it?"
"When did you suddenly start to care so much about Zackary’s welfare? You've left him to me all this while."
"Do you want me to retract that basic right as his mother from you as well? You don't seem very interested in it any longer."
She shot to her feet, her eyes ablaze. "How dare you question my love for my son?"
"Don't test me," I said. "I've allowed you to go whichever way you chose these past years. I won't take such liberties when it comes to Zackary. Either Charlotte stays, or you leave."
Her mouth dropped open. “You would choose a woman who walked into our lives a few days ago over me?”
“Yes.”
For a second she stared at me in horror as it became clear to her that I was serious. Then I saw the gears in her brain shift and tears that I had not only no patience for, but found infuriating, began to fill her eyes.” Brett, how did we get here? We grew up together. How did I come to mean so little to you? We are a family. She is the outsider. I know what she has been doing. She’s been poisoning you against me."
I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. Never had I met someone that was as dishonest with herself as she was to everyone else around.
"Jillian, what exactly do I mean to you?”
“I love you, Brett,” she cried passionately.
“You sure about that?" I asked as I stripped away my mask.
Her true reaction shone through becau
se she didn’t have enough time to hide it. She flinched ... she actually flinched, right before my eyes. Her eyes traced the deep, unbearably ugly scars that lined the right portion of my face. It was a lot better than it had been at the beginning, but the shriveled, disfigured flesh torn from by being flung through the window of a somersaulting vehicle then being dragged so hard on gravel that it sandpapered my face right down to the bone in some places, was one she still couldn’t stomach.
"Is everything clear now?" I asked, putting the mask back on.
To my surprise, she began to move towards me, lifting her hand up to touch me.
I slapped the hands away before they could connect with my flesh.
"How dare you?”
She winced at the tone of my voice. "You will never forgive me, will you?"
"For what?" I asked and brushed my hair out of my face. "For abandoning me during the hardest time of my life?"
"Brett, I didn't abandon you," she cried. "Aren't I still here? My reaction was normal. Any normal human being would have reacted like that.” A sly look came into her eyes. “You think our nanny won’t react in exactly the same way if she saw you without your mask?”
My face hardened. Fighting with Jillian was a fool’s errand. She was too good at this. I turned away.
“Don’t turn away from me please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I want to talk about us.”
I stopped and turned back. I needed to sort this problem out before I left.
“Anyway, as I was saying, I just needed some time to take it all in ... To readjust ... To see you the way that I used to."
I laughed. "Yes, your method of adjusting was to fuck around. You don’t love me, Jillian. You never have. You married me for my money, and I married you because your father asked, you were easy on the eye, and I didn’t know then what I do now."
The tears rolled down her eyes. "Brett, your words are too brutal. I’m only human ... and I'm allowed to falter and to disappoint. I'm also allowed to realize my mistakes and change. Why won't you let me in?"
"No one's stopping you," I said. "I'm not. Stop fucking around. Try winning my heart back again … if you want to."
Her gaze faltered from mine and it almost made me laugh aloud. "What? Too much like work? Or have you finally realized that what you really want is me groveling at your feet for whatever crumbs you want to throw down at me?"
"You still love me, Brett" she said. "That's why you're so bitter."
I shook my head at her arrogance. “Jillian, I'm bitter because I can't believe that I once deluded myself into marrying you. I'm even more bitter now because I can't get rid of you as easily as I would like to. I have a responsibility to Zackary and unlike you I take the magnitude of what that entails seriously.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think, I am a good mother to Zackary.”
"Whatever. I’ve got to go, but leave Charlotte alone, or I'll take matters into my own hands and I assure you, you won’t like it."
I turned around and walked out of her room.
At the top of the stairs, I froze. Heading towards me from the servants’ stairs was Charlotte, her eyes were on the floor. She must have been heading to the kitchen. Before she could raise her head to notice me, Jillian’s words came to taunt me. You think our nanny won’t react in exactly the same way if she saw you without your mask? I experienced an instinctive desire to turn around and go the opposite way, to hide from her.
But she raised her head and saw me.
We walked towards each other. She was staring at me, her blue eyes wide. Both of us had slowed down our pace, but we did not stop as we moved nearer and as we passed each other I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. Hell, she was even more beautiful in real life.
God, I wanted her.
“Brett,” she called.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to keep going, I didn’t want to ignore her. I wanted her to speak … and I wanted to look properly at her … and into her eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop walking.
“Brett,” she called louder, and this time my feet came to a halt of their own accord. I didn’t turn around. I could feel the rush of adrenaline in my veins as the sound of her shoes turning to come to me hit my ears. My command was automatic.
“Stay where you are.”
She obeyed.
“What is it?” I asked.
Silence.
Slowly, I turned around to face her.
Chapter 22
Charlotte
My mouth was open, but I simply could not make it work.
Brett was standing in front of me! There was a mask over his face made of some kind of shiny material, probably not material, but silicone. It was dark, a sharp contrast to the pale ivory of his skin. It was obvious he had not been out in the sun in years. His hair was swept away from his face in waves, and just underneath his right eye, I could see a glimpse of the mangled damaged flesh as it rode down and disappeared underneath the mask.
Jillian had inferred that he was hideous … a monster… but he was not. The man I had seen in the picture paled in comparison. From the broadened shoulders upon which a striped, white dress shirt was draped to the charcoal slacks tailored to run down his long muscular legs, there was no doubt I was staring at the sexiest, most magnetic man I’d ever seen. Maybe it was his hooded eyes, or lightly tousled hair, or the mystery the mask exuded, but to my mind he was as dark and mysterious as a romantic hero in a novel.
My hand came to my chest in confusion. I wanted to say something, something that would let him know that I did not find him repulsive, quite the contrary in fact, but not a word could I bring to my lips. I could feel my face become redder as the seconds passed.
“Charlotte,” he called.
I looked at him dumbly. Inside I was screaming abuse at myself. Say something, idiot. Say something. Anything.
“Will you go and see my wife? She has something to say to you.”
I nodded and hurried away like a little coward. Still cursing myself I found my way over to Jillian’s suite. When I arrived, went in without even knocking, my brain was so scrambled.
She was standing by the window and gazing out. Her blonde hair was arranged at the nape of her neck in a beautiful bun, but she was still in her dressing gown. For a moment I was struck by the sight. There was something so sad and lost about her. She turned at my entrance, her eyes widened with hope. She must have thought I was Brett, because her face changed to great dislike, maybe even hate, when she saw me.
“What do you want?” she spat.
“Mr. King said you wanted to see me.”
Her hands clenched at her sides and she took a deep breath.
“Well, if it was nothing, I’ll go pack my things.”
She exhaled loudly. “No need,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’ll be staying … for now. Zackary’s father wanted me to give you a second chance but, be forewarned, one mistake on your part and you are out of here.” She walked to her dressing table, sat down on the stool and started to touch up her already perfectly made up face.
I was dismissed, but such emotions raced through me I couldn’t move. I felt almost dizzy. Brett had forced her to let me remain … what did that mean?
“Why are you still here?” she asked.
It instantly brought me right back to earth. I took a backward step, then another. Then I turned around, exited the room, and all but crept down the corridor. My heart felt as if it was a bird trapped in my chest and it was flapping it little wings like crazy. All my nervous energy was for nothing. Brett was no longer at the spot we met before. Even so, the mere fact of thinking he might have been there gave me a headache. I headed to my room and sat on the bed. I needed to clear my head.
The intercom began to bleep. I could see that it was from the kitchen. I quickly answered it. It was Mrs. Blackmore.
“Zackary’s almost done with his meal, where are you?” she asked, a hint of impatience in her voice. “His tutor will be here
soon.”
“I’m on my way,” I said, and bolted out of my room.
When I arrived at the kitchen, Zackary was sitting at the table and idly kicking his heels against the chair’s legs. There was a tray of breakfast on a table.
“Who’s that for?” I asked.
Mrs. Blackmore looked up from her phone, her gaze nervous, her feet tapping rapidly against the stone floor. “It’s for Mr. King. He’s supposed to be leaving soon and for the love of God I cannot find Steven or Carrie to take it up to him.”
I spoke before I could use my brain. “Why don’t I take it over?”
She turned to me. It took a few moments for her to process the logistics of such an action through her mind, and I spent that time wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I just met him in the corridor and acted like a complete nutcase, and now I was offering to take his breakfast up to him.
“Yes, that’s a good idea,” she said in a relieved voice. “Just leave on the table by the door. Do not go into his rooms … or linger. And come straight back.”
“Okay.”
She picked up the tray and thrust it at me. “Quickly now. I’ll keep the lad here until you return.”
I took the tray from her and had reached the top of the stairs when I realized I wasn’t sure which corridor to take. I was standing there, trying to work out my East from my West when I saw Melly.
“Mr. King’s suite? Keep going straight down.” She nodded towards the corridor behind me. “It’s the first door on your left, you can’t miss it. The hallway has a gallery of portraits.”
“Thanks, Melly.
“Hey, want to go out for a drink, Friday?”
My stomach was churning with nervousness, but I smiled and nodded. “Sure, why not.”
“Great. See you later,” she said, and I turned to go towards Mrs. King’s rooms.
I followed her instructions and pretty soon I was standing in front of an imposing mahogany door. I knocked, twice, and when there was no response, pulled down the handle, and pushed it open.
The Man In The Mirror: A Billionaire Romance Page 8
