Scandalous Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  He didn’t respond, didn’t move an inch. I sat up and threw the blankets off of him, then took him by his broad shoulders and shook him. Snuffling in surprise, he opened his bleary eyes.

  “What? Sorry?”

  “Wake up, we have to put these things away. Amelia could be here at any moment.”

  “You aren’t expecting her today, are you?” he mumbled sleepily.

  “Well no, but it is her house and she didn’t specify an exact day or time, and if we’re caught like this I won’t just be fired, I’ll be destroyed. Do you know what kind of connections that woman has? Get up, get up, please!”

  He shook himself awake and smiled indulgently at me. “If you insist. I doubt very much that we’re in any immediate danger.”

  “Maybe we are, maybe we aren’t, but I’m not about to gamble my career.”

  He shrugged. “Very well. I’ll take these upstairs.”

  “Thank you. You still have the key? It has stopped snowing and it looks like there are cars on the road. I really should get to my hotel.”

  “Will you be coming back?”

  “Of course! I shouldn’t be long at all. Lock up if you leave please.”

  He nodded, his eyes twinkling in some amusement. Glancing down, I realized that I was still dressed in the pink and yellow ducky pajamas.

  “You’ll be traveling like that?” he asked.

  “Maybe I should get dressed first.”

  He shot me a grin over his shoulder as he walked away with the pile of blankets. “I wouldn’t,” he said. “You could start a new fashion trend. Bag-lady chic?”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed, then went to get changed. I didn’t mind the frantic pace; as I saw it, the next two or three weeks were going to be just as frantic, so it would do me good to get used to it. Besides, sprinting against the clock always gave me a kind of hyper-focused creative energy which I loved. As long as I already had everything planned out, that is.

  The road was thick with cabs, to my relief. My hotel, as it turned out, was closer to the mansion than the airport, so it had made sense for Amelia to ask me to go straight to work. Still, I probably could have stopped at the hotel on my way regardless, I thought with a bit of annoyance. I decided it was my fault; I hadn’t taken the time to figure out where my hotel was in relation to everything, so I hadn’t known that I could stop off and check in on my way.

  The budding resentment which I had been tentatively nursing against her wilted. The receptionist at the desk greeted me with a friendly, polite smile.

  “Hello, I had a reservation for yesterday. Is it still available?”

  “Of course, miss,” he answered in a delightful British accent. “Due to the storm, we didn’t cancel anyone’s reservations. With flights and trains backed up, it simply wouldn’t have been fair. We all start today on a clean slate. What’s the name?”

  “Grace Baker,” I said gratefully.

  He nodded briskly and pulled me up in the system. “Ah, a south-facing room. How lovely! Here is your key. I see your reservation is until Christmas Eve, is that accurate?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I took my key and was startled to see that the bellhop already had my luggage loaded on a cart.

  “Excellent. Enjoy your stay!”

  “Thank you,” I said again as I followed the bellhop to the elevator.

  It was a well-maintained, comfortable hotel, homey and professional all at once. It wasn’t quite a bed and breakfast, which I appreciated; those always made me feel like I was intruding on someone’s home. But it wasn’t quite a cookie-cutter hotel either. It was the best of both worlds. I felt so completely at home that it was almost a problem. I had been running on stress and adrenaline, and the atmosphere of this place melted both of those away.

  “A clean slate for a new day,” I murmured as the bellhop brought the suitcases into my room.

  I barely remembered to tip him because I was so enthralled by the room’s design. One thing nobody ever told me about doing what I loved was that I would begin to harvest the world at large for ideas and find a new appreciation in things which I never would have noticed before. Like the way the stylized crown molding made the room seem bigger than it was, or how the wall opposite the window had been painted yellow to make the most out of the southern exposure.

  The room was sunny and warm, dressed up in yellows and blues, like a tiny patch of defiant summer in the center of the winter-stricken city. The other three walls were dripping with tiny blue flowers on striped white and yellow paper, and the bed was a twisted iron number painted white. It was like a doll house and I loved it instantly.

  Get it together, Grace. You’re on the clock, remember?

  I inwardly scolded myself out of my distraction, then rifled through my bags for some sturdy work clothes.

  After a quick shower in a claw-foot tub, I stopped at the little café downstairs for breakfast. I had managed to snap out of my vacation brain in the shower. In my mind I was already back at the mansion, working out my next steps and flipping through color samples. I barely noticed what I was eating and bolted the food down without really tasting it, then hurried on my way.

  I flagged down another cab to take me back to the mansion. I should have rented a car. But I dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it appeared. It would take me at least a week to adjust to driving on the other side of the road, and I could only imagine how many accidents I would get into in that time.

  “Where are you headed this fine morning?” the cabbie asked cheerfully.

  I gave him the address, then settled back in my seat to continue my planning.

  “Oh, that’s a great house. You don’t live there, do you?”

  “No,” I said. Then, not wanting to be rude, I expanded. “I’m redecorating the inside for the owners.”

  “Ah! Even better. All the joy of loving the place without the hassle of living in it, yeah? What are they doing with it? Keeping it classic, I hope.” He grinned at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Some of it,” I said.

  “You’re American, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  He whistled. “That’s a long way to travel for a job. My cousin Dillon, he moved to Kentucky last year. Do you live near there?”

  “Not at all,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m from New York.”

  “Ah, the Big Apple. Lots to do there, I imagine.”

  I wriggled restlessly in my seat. All I wanted was to get to work. I had no space in my brain for small talk.

  Inhaling deeply, I forced my shoulders to relax, then spent the next ten minutes indulging the cabbie. When he finally dropped me off at the mansion’s front door, I had completely lost track of what I had been thinking about.

  I checked my watch as I stepped out of the cab. The whole ordeal had taken longer than I had anticipated.

  Oh well, I thought. At least the decorators will all be here and we can really get a jump on this.

  I pulled the front door open, expecting to hear the comforting sounds of people hard at work—or at least the chatter of people busily procrastinating—but all was silent.

  “Where is everybody?” I asked the silent foyer as I stripped out of my coat. “Dan? Are you still here?”

  Somebody had to be, since the door had been unlocked. Nobody answered.

  Frowning, I checked my phone to see if anyone had tried to get in touch with me during my trip to the hotel and back. As my lock screen flashed the local time and date, I groaned.

  “It’s Saturday. Because of course it is. Weekends don’t care about deadlines, do they?”

  I shoved a hand through my hair, then twisted my hair into a tight ball at the nape of my neck. I wasn’t just going to sit on my hands until Monday; I had too much work to do.

  I grabbed the paint samples from the top of the stack of paint cans and strode through the house toward the gallery, keeping an eye out as I went. Either someone was here or Dan had forgotten to lock the door. I hoped it was the former, though it was
looking more and more like the latter.

  To my immense relief, I found Dan in the gallery. He had showered and changed, wearing a red sweater now and a pair of dark blue jeans which had faded and softened along the thighs and were beginning to fray at the knees. He smiled at me as I came in and my heart skipped a beat.

  I beamed at him. He must have really taken my words to heart yesterday. He’s making sure my professional reputation stays intact. I hoped his interest wasn’t purely professional. The warmth in his eyes allowed that private hope to soar.

  “You must live nearby. Have you been waiting long?”

  “Not long at all,” he said. “I was just looking at the view. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It really is,” I said warmly. “I wish I had photos of the view during the summer. That’s what I want to bring into this room, are the colors of summer. You could probably help me with that, actually. You’ve seen the neighborhood during the summer, right?”

  “I have,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  “Do you think you can remember the exact shade of the trees? I know that’s a lot to ask, and I do have a few pictures, but I want it to look as close to life as possible.”

  “May I?” He held out his hand for the samples. He flipped through them for a moment, looking thoughtful. “What is it you’re planning to do in here?”

  “The wall opposite the windows will be painted a light shade, and then I’ll stencil a lacework over it in a darker color. The ceiling should be gray and blue, and then the floor will be polished to a shine. It’s intended to reflect the view, but not detract from it.”

  “And the wall around the windows?”

  “I’m going to leave it the color it is. I think the raw look of the stones frames the view beautifully without distracting from it.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, then squinted through the window as though trying to envision the view without the snow. “That looks like willows by the lake and hedges closer to the house. This silver-green would match willows, and this dark one would match the hedges.”

  “Good eye,” I said, impressed. I looked at the colors he chose and held them up to the bare wall. They complemented one another perfectly. “You know, this shade is equal parts silver and green.” I looked up at the ceiling. “We could use it as the background on the wall, and then use it again as a low-light on the ceiling.”

  “You’re intending to paint a scene?”

  “Sort of. With, let’s see…this white, this blue, and the silver-green. I’ll use the sprayer to make a marbled sort of background up there, like undefined clouds or an early morning haze. That will tie the view to the wall seamlessly.” I started walking as I talked, back toward the foyer.

  Dan fell in beside me, matching my pace as if it were second nature.

  We loaded the paint onto a pair of carts along with drop cloths, sprayers, stencils, and face masks, then wheeled the whole thing down the long hall and around the corner to the gallery. We passed the ballroom on the way.

  “That’s next,” I said, gesturing at it. “Though I should wait for the rest of the decorators to get here first. That tile work is going to be a pain. We’re going to have to break it up with sledgehammers before we can replace it.”

  He cocked his head at me. “I must say, the idea of you wielding a sledgehammer is enticing.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You like a woman who could crack a head open if she had a mind to?”

  “A powerful woman is a joy to behold. Though I do prefer tiles to heads. Less to clean up.”

  I laughed at that, and he along with me.

  His smile lit up the room, and I caught myself staring for a moment before turning my attention back to the job. We each dressed in lightweight coveralls and face protection. He was somehow just as attractive when he was fully covered. Something about the way his body moved, or how his eyes looked bigger behind the safety glasses.

  I tore my eyes away from him and took two of the silver-green cans to attach them to the sprayers, then handed one to him.

  “Start at the far end, please. I’ll start here, and we’ll meet in the middle. Oh, take a drop cloth please.”

  “As you wish,” he said with a little tip of his head.

  He made me feel like the perfect combination of lady and captain. It was enough to make me feel giddy.

  I grinned behind my mask and lay my own cloth down, holding it in place with cans of paint. This was always one of my favorite parts. I aimed at the upper corner of the wall, then squeezed the trigger as I began the slow, meditative sweep back and forth.

  I had made it about a quarter of the way down the gallery when the paint ran out. Looking down to the other end, I saw that Dan had emptied his own gallon, and I waved him over to the pile of supplies. He whistled behind his mask as he strolled over to me. By the time he made it to my side, I was frowning at the pile in concern.

  “Something the matter?” he asked.

  “Yes…I had initially planned on using the cream color for the background on this wall, so I have plenty of that. It seems I only ordered three gallons of this color.” I glanced at the wall and shook my head. “That’s not going to finish the job, not by a long shot. I’m going to have to run out and get more.”

  He checked the label on the cans and raised a brow at me. “From this supplier?”

  “Yeah. It’s just across town, isn’t it?” I pulled out my phone and checked the map. “Yeah, Shoreditch High Street.”

  He blinked at me for a moment, then chuckled. “You vastly underestimate how much time it will take to get there and back, my dear. This is your first time in London, I take it?”

  “Well…yes.”

  He shook his head, his eyes twinkling. “I say, it’s scandalous that you haven’t seen the city.” He checked his watch. “You won’t find a cab in this area at this time of day. We’ll have to take my car. Let me drive you and I’ll show you the sights.”

  I hesitated. “There’s so much to be done—”

  “Yes, and you will do it better once you have a feel of the place, won’t you? Come now, you can’t come to London and not be a bit of a tourist. Even Mrs. Hornsby-Harris couldn’t expect that of you.”

  “She could, and I believe she does.”

  “Well.” He stroked his chin with one hand, gazing contemplatively at me. “We will have to go past them on our way. I’ll just point them out to you as we go along.”

  “That’ll work,” I said, momentarily relieved. “I really do want to at least get this part finished today.”

  “And finish it you shall, but first—London.” He took me by the elbow and led me toward the door.

  I was still a little hesitant to let him take the lead on this, but he seemed so excited to share his home city with me that I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him.

  Just one or two landmarks, then I’ll insist that we be on our way, I decided. We left our coveralls with the supplies and headed out the door in our regular clothes. He grinned at me as we slid into his conservative sedan.

  “You’re going to love this,” he said.

  We drove for a few minutes before he pointed out the window.

  “Kensington Gardens,” he said. “Much better in the spring and summer, but if you have a chance to walk through you should. It flows into Hyde Park, which is also an experience. Perhaps if our errand doesn’t take too long, I’ll show you around myself.”

  “It looks pretty big,” I said doubtfully.

  “Oh, yes. A person could get lost in there all day and still not see everything there is to see. I used to spend hours there when I was younger.”

  “Not anymore?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid I have allowed my work to consume my soul. I would be loath to allow that to happen to you. Let’s take steps to avoid it, shall we?”

  “A step or two, maybe,” I said, beginning to get anxious. “I really don’t have time for sightseeing. Neither do you, for that matter.”

  “Trust me,” he s
aid confidently. “You’ll do your job better after you’ve allowed yourself some time to simply exist in the beauty of the world. A writer who never reads will one day run out of words, won’t he? A designer who never beholds beauty will face the same problem. Call it research.”

  I shook my head, but I was smiling. “You really can justify anything, can’t you?”

  “It would seem so.” His tone flattened at the edges, and I looked at him sharply. He smiled benignly at me and pointed out the window. “Winter wonderland.”

  “Oh! Is that the Ferris wheel they always show in the movies? It looks smaller than I expected.”

  “No, you’re thinking of the London Eye. That’s down on the Thames. I can take you to it if you like, it isn’t far.”

  I thought about it for only a moment before I firmly declined.

  He grinned at me, his eyes twinkling. “It really won’t take that long, you know.”

  “Yes, but…I barely have minutes to spare on this errand, Dan.”

  “Hm, I suppose so. Oh! Wellington Arch. Stunning views from the top. You must see this.” He began to turn, and I put my hand on his arm.

  “Dan,” I said, laughing. “We really can’t stop.”

  “Not even for a moment?” His eyes widened in a silent plea.

  A wicked little temptation rose within me. She had given me an impossible task, after all. Besides, why should I come to London and see nothing of it? At least this way I could see a whole lot of things all at once and say that I’d done it, and it would only take a minute.

  “Okay,” I said finally. “But just for a minute.”

  “Excellent!”

  Chapter 9

  Grace

  The arch was an architectural wonder, full of beauty and history. I found myself getting distracted more than once on our way up to the balcony, and nearly half an hour passed without my notice before we were standing at the top together, taking in the views.

  I stood as near the edge as I could. Dan stood behind me, hands on my elbows as I crossed my arms over my chest against the chilly breeze. Overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, I leaned against his broad chest. He responded instantly, wrapping his strong, warm arms over mine.