My heart begins to pound. I have the sudden urge to kiss him.
I break away and turn my head, reeling. Totally inappropriate!
“Interesting,” he notes, with only the smallest trace of amusement. “You’re still skittish.”
“I am not skittish!” I tell him firmly. I clamp both hands down on the table and look straight ahead.
Anywhere is better to point my eyes than at him.
“I would appreciate if we keep this professional,” I say with false bravado.
He chuckles. But to my relief, I hear his chair scrape back against the ground. He stands.
“Very well,” he says. “Tomorrow, at eight am, you will meet me in my study. I will show you the grounds. We will go over the rest of your duties.” He smiles at me. “Have a pleasant night, Ms. Middleton.”
Chapter Eight
For hours I toss and turn in the dark, unable to sleep.
I’m still riled up from my encounter with Sylvain. It’s now clear he expects something more from this relationship than I first envisioned.
Can I live here all summer knowing that? Do I dare act upon it?
I snort a laugh. Of course not. I’ve always been the good girl. Who am I to presume that a man like Sylvain would have even the slightest bit of interest in me?
Who am I to him? The hired help. Nothing more.
But then again… the sexual tension at “dinner” was off the charts.
I considered resigning after he left… but only for a moment. I need this job. I need the money. My parents aren’t rich. They aren’t poor, either, but with tuition costing as much as it does, all those bills add up. And with my dad still on sick leave from the workplace accident earlier this year, I definitely need to pull my own weight.
I can’t put more strain on my family.
No, the only choice I have is to stay. Unless Sylvain proves himself to be dangerous. Then I’m definitely gone.
But for now? For now, I have to proceed as if nothing’s changed. After all…
I signed the contract last night.
***
My alarm blares at 7:30. I grab my cell phone and turn it off, rub my eyes, and go straight into the shower.
The water takes a long time to heat up. As I wait I get kind of anxious. I remember what a stickler Sylvain was for punctuality.
I don’t want to be late on my second “first day.”
In the end I make it into the castle in the nick of time. My hair is obviously still wet. I could barely be expected to dry it.
Sylvain is waiting for me in his study on the second floor.
“You’re late,” are the first words to come from his mouth when he sees me.
“I’m—”
“Late,” he repeats. “Look at the time.” His eyes go to the big grandfather clock against the wall.
It shows 8:01.
“Oh, for the love of God…” I mutter.
His eyebrows shoot up. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I quickly say. “It was nothing. I won’t be late again. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he tells me. He rises. “One thing I appreciate, Ms. Middleton, is timeliness. Just because we are in the country… just because there isn’t a trace of technology around… just because it is just me and you here, with no set schedules, no rigid timelines, does not mean…” he walks toward me, “…that we can afford to make tardiness a habit.”
I stiffen as he comes close. He’s not frightening, not in the usual way. Not like a killer would be. But he is…
Intimidating.
I lick my lips, which suddenly feel very dry. “I understand.”
“I understand, Mr. …?” he says, fishing for his title.
“I understand, Mr. Alastair,” I say, hating how easily I caved.
He gives a cursory smile. “Good. Now—breakfast?”
“Oh yes, please, I’m famished.”
His dark eyes flash. “I wasn’t inviting,” he says. “I was instructing. You need to go make me breakfast.”
Mentally I face-palm. Idiot!
“Yes, Mr. Alastair,” I say. “I’ll get to it right away. What would you like?”
“Surprise me,” he says. “But make it…. impressive.”
***
Half an hour later, I’m blustering around in the kitchen, trying my best to keep my emotions in check.
‘Surprise me,’ he says. ‘I appreciate timeliness,’ he mocks.
Well, it’s getting on my nerves. I didn’t sign up to be his damn housekeeper, maid, or personal chef.
And yet, that’s exactly what he seems intent on turning me into!
Add to the mix that I can’t cook—never could, had no interest—and you have a disaster in the making.
It doesn’t help that all the kitchenware look like it came from the Middle Ages. The pots are all heavy iron, the stove is an ancient one that runs on gas, barely, and the fridge can’t even keep its contents below room temperature.
In the end, I try making a frittata… that gets downgraded to a plain old omelet given my absolute lack of culinary skills… that ends up being even more pathetic when it sticks to the skillet and breaks in two as I try transferring it onto a plate.
Oh well. I’ll consider it payback for the protein bar.
I munch on an apple while making it, so I don’t bring anything out for myself.
Sylvain is already in the dining room. He has a thick book open on the table. It looks very, very old. The lettering is impossibly tiny.
“Breakfast?” I say, setting down the plate.
He gives it the barest of looks. “Did you poison it?” he asks, straight-faced.
I blanch. “What?”
His eyes meet mine. He holds the gaze for a moment… then smiles.
“A joke,” he says.
“Oh.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “No, it’s just… I mean, I’m not the best cook… I mean, I tried my best, but—”
I cut off. Shut up, shut up, shut up! I scream at myself.
It seems I can’t help but be reduced to a blubbering idiot whenever Sylvain is around.
“It’s fine,” he says. “I appreciate the effort.”
I blink. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Oh,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Sit down, Dani.”
My eyebrows climb high. First names?
He waits. I realize I’m still on my feet. He looks at the chair in front of me.
I pull it out and plop down.
He puts the book aside. He doesn’t touch his meal.
Instead, he just looks at me.
I shift, a little uncomfortable. Sylvain seems to thrive on these sorts of silences. I never liked them.
“I think,” he finally says, “that we got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to remedy that. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, too-quickly. Dammit, what is it about this man that rattles me so?
“I thought so.” He leans back. “So then, Dani. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” His dark eyes glimmer. “Seeing as you already have such a vast understanding of me.”
Is he mocking me? I wonder.
I clear my throat. “Um. What do you want to know?”
“What attracted you to this job?” he asks. I have a sense the question has a double meaning: What attracted you to me?
“Well, I just thought this would be an excellent opportunity,” I begin. “I was always fascinated by pieces of history. To be given the chance to live in one seemed like a dream come true.”
He smiles. “History?” he asks softly.
“Yes, well, you know. Old things. Things from the past. Things that have stood the test of time and remained for generations…”
“Would you like to know the history,” he emphasizes the last world, “Of the estate?”
I perk up. “Oh yes,” I answer immediately. “Absolutely. I didn’t think you’d be willing to share—”
“You hold a lot
of assumptions about me,” he notes. “Despite our interacting… what? Thrice? Four times? Five, perhaps, if you consider the phone call.”
He steeples his hands and leans closer. “You know so much about me. Whereas I only have the tiniest glimmer of you, almost exclusively from your resume. Now that you’re here, of course, I see that you’re quite lovely…” my cheeks flame red, “…but it feels like you hold the upper hand in this relationship. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I clear my throat. “I’m not sure—”
“No,” he interrupts. “Of course you’re not. You’re overwhelmed. You’re still trying to take the grandiosity of this place in. Couple the impressive architecture with my unexpected presence… add to that all the things your friend Min told you… and I can see how you’d feel like maybe you bit off more than you can chew.” His eyes narrow. “Isn’t that right?”
“Uh,” I say.
“It is,” Sylvain tells me. “And that saddens me. This,” he spreads his hands, “was supposed to be the most picturesque of summers for you. Instead it’s been tainted by me. Correct?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I never said that. You’re putting words in my mouth.”
“I’m only saying the things you are thinking. The things you are… too frightened to say.” He shakes his head the tiniest bit. “Such deception never does a person good. You are here for three months. Just as it happens,” his smile turns predatory, “so am I. What a wonderful coincidence.”
“This is your property,” I tell him. “You can do with it whatever you like. It makes no difference if you’re here or not, so long as I’m permitted to do my job.”
Now his grin grows really wide. “Your job,” he quotes. “And what do you think that is, exactly?”
“The same thing I signed up for,” I tell him. “I’m here to catalogue the property. To what end, I don’t know. Maybe you’re selling the place. Maybe you want to know more about it yourself. That’s not really my concern. But the one thing I’m not here for—” I was debating a long time whether to add this point or not. In the end, it comes naturally, “—is to act as your personal chef and maid. That wasn’t in the job description. And while I don’t mind cooking the occasional meal…” I meet his gaze, for once, without backing down, “I will not be doing it on the daily. If you don’t like that, I don’t care. You can fire me, and find somebody else to mother you.”
I finish the speech.
And then I realize what I’ve done.
My hands almost fly to my mouth. I force them still with a concentrated effort. I am wearing the most fragile poker face.
Sylvain watches me. He seems…. amused by the display.
“Well,” he says softly, after a prolonged, uncomfortable moment. “That’s how it’s going to be?”
I can’t back down now.
“Yes,” I tell him. “That’s how it’s going to be.” I glance at the broken omelet. “And that’s a frittata, by the way.”
Chapter Nine
Sylvain dismisses me shortly after that.
He tells me to spend the day looking around, but that, unlike previously planned, he won’t be joining me.
So be it. Maybe that’ll give me the much-needed distance to make heads or tails of the man.
And of course, to actually explore the property. That’s what I’m here for, after all.
The castle has many rooms. A lot of them are barred and locked.
I won’t be getting inside without the keys.
The ones that are open are sparsely furnished. Most have little more than a simple wooden bench and maybe a table.
Only the entrance hall walls are decorated. The rest of the interior is decidedly bleak.
Outside, however, is a whole other story.
The grounds are absolutely beautiful. Lush green gardens surround the castle. There’s a maze deep in the keep. The far outer wall that rings around the place isn’t even visible from inside the shrubs, they’re so tall.
The entrance is a bit overgrown. Intrigued, I pick my way inside.
“Oh wow,” I say. The stone path beneath me is covered in dirt. I don’t think anyone’s been in here in years.
It feels like a private oasis.
I wander deeper, keeping track of my turns so I can find my way back out. There’s an opening where the sun shines bright on an intricately carved stone bench. It looks like the perfect place to read.
Or kiss, a stray voice suggests from the depths of my subconscious mind.
It’s coupled with an image of Sylvain’s full lips.
I shake my head to dispel the idea. What’s gotten into me?
I mean, yes, the man is gorgeous. And yes, I’ve been pretty sexually deprived the last three years of college. But still! It’s not like me to moon over a man.
Placing Sylvain firmly out of my thoughts, I work my way back to the entrance. Before I’d entered I’d spotted an old shed.
I walk to it and am pleasantly surprised when I find it unlocked.
I open the doors. They creak loudly, but that doesn’t prevent the smile from forming on my face.
It’s fully stocked. All sorts of gardening tools lie inside. They might be a bit old… but still very useable.
Well. Cooking, I might have no interest in. But fixing up a little of the vegetation in the maze to make it more hospitable for myself?
That, I can definitely do.
Chapter Ten
The sun goes down before I finish my work. I get so absorbed in it that I don’t even notice time passing.
Then I feel the deep-set ache in my arms and the hollow pit that is my stomach. I worked a lot.
I hope another protein bar isn’t my reward.
I sigh, wipe my brow, and head back to return the tools to the shed.
I finish putting them in their proper place. I turn to the castle—and find Sylvain’s silhouette blocking the light from the doors.
I pull my shoulders back as I face him. I walk there slowly. Our last conversation ended on a high note for me. I don’t want to undo that work now.
He watches impassively as I come closer. He’s dressed in fine black clothes: fancy slacks and a button down. The top few buttons are undone, making the shirt stretch across his chest and emphasize his wide, muscular shoulders.
For a second, I lose myself staring. Just for a moment!
But it’s enough to make me misplace a step.
My ankle twists. I yelp and fall forward.
Sylvain moves fast to catch me. His reflexes are superb. He’s like a darting viper.
“Are you all right?” he asks. I think there’s genuine concern in his voice.
“Yeah. Fine. Thanks,” I mumble. He helps me up. When we both straighten, he does not immediately let go of my arm.
I’m so close I can smell his cologne. It’s subtle but masculine. It has a rich texture to it that is very fitting to the estate.
My heart starts pounding faster. He looks at me. His eyes are guarded—I cannot tell what is going on behind them.
I clear my throat. He seems to remember himself and lets go of my arms.
“Thank you,” I say again, softly.
“I’ve been watching you today,” he says. He points a finger up. “From the window of my study. It provides a perfect view of the labyrinth. You did a good job.”
“Oh,” I say. A flush of pride takes me. It’s not the compliment itself—anybody with two hands and half a will could have done what I did—but the fact that it’s coming from him. “Thank you.”
“You must be very tired,” he notes. “And hungry?”
This time, he definitely frames the last as a question.
But I don’t want to be caught presuming twice. “I am,” I say cautiously.
“Good.” He smiles, and holds out his elbow for me to take. “I made us dinner. As way of apology for my earlier behavior. I hope you’ll consent?”
That surprises me. “That’s very sweet of you,” I say. “But I think I want to shower first�
��”
“No.” He cuts me off. The command in his voice is firm and unyielding. “You will sup with me first, because I prepared the meal, and because it is still hot.”
Whoa, I think. That’s a sudden bit of unexpected intensity right there.
“You sure?” I ask. “I’d rather be fresh…”
“Dani,” he says. Now his voice is all smooth silk again. “No matter what state you’re in, I find you lovely. Please. Give me the pleasure of your company.”
I giggle. This is ludicrous!
“Well, when you put it like that…” I say, and take his arm.
Chapter Eleven
I almost stagger back in complete shock when I see the dining hall.
An entire proper dinner has been set for two. There’s a roast in the middle. A bottle of wine. Glasses. All the necessary dishware and cutlery.
There are even candles flickering on the table.
He smiles coyly. “I trust you’re impressed.”
“Compared to yesterday?” I say. “Very.” I look at him. “You did this yourself?”
“As I said,” he tells me. “I wanted to apologize. As you will soon find out, I am not a man who does things half-heartedly.”
“You can say that again,” I murmur.
Sylvain slides out my seat for me. I sit. He walks to the other side, his stride long and powerful, and settles down across from me.
“Wine to get started?” He reaches for the bottle. “This is a nineteenth century vintage—”
“I’m not very experienced,” I blurt out. “You don’t have to explain it to me. Frankly, I wouldn’t be able to tell if that bottle cost twenty bucks or twenty grand.”
Shit! I shouldn’t have said that. But that’s the other thing that happens when I get nervous. My mouth runs away from me. Either that, or I freeze.
But Sylvain only smiles. “You’re honest,” he says. “I like that.”
He pours me a glass, then one for himself. I pick it up.
“Thank you.”
I bring it to my lips. He stops me.
“Tut-tut-tut.”
I look up.
“Careful,” he says. “Even if you don’t know anything about wines, you should still be able to appreciate the flavor. Take your time. Have a small sip. Roll it through your mouth. Savor the aroma, the mixture of textures, all the subtle hints of flavor.” His voice becomes almost husky. “When you have something precious in front of you, you mustn’t spoil it by being rash.”
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 224
