Serving Mr. Stevens, Part Two: Lover's Complaint -- An Erotic Romance (Part 2 of 5) (2 page)

There was something else bothering me, a nagging undertone I just couldn’t shake away.
Why me?
I kept thinking.
What have I got to offer him? He could have anyone.
It was that question that kept me up, late into that fitful night. My only explanation was that he saw something in my personality that attracted him to me – but what was it? I tried to think back to that first interaction, our conversation in the coffee shop… I’d been instantly drawn to him, even though he’d shocked me with his stern commands. From the moment we met, I realized, I’d been trying to please him, to prove my worth to him.
Was that what he wanted?
I wondered, my half-formed thoughts appearing in a muddy stream of consciousness.
Am I just a servant to him? Some sexual plaything? …Or am I something more?

It was just one in a long list of unanswered questions. The more I thought about him, the less certain I was of anything. But there was one thing I knew for sure; I felt it down to the core of my body, as inevitable as the pull of gravity. I was hooked on him, completely addicted – for better or worse. And I could feel myself getting drawn in further towards him with every passing moment.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Candace,
I told myself.
And you don’t even know the rules
. I only wondered how far our game would go. What if he went past my limits? Our contract stated I was free to leave at any time… but that depended on me saying “no” to him. Would it ever come to that? And if it did, would I find the strength?

I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to find out just yet. I only knew I couldn’t wait to feel his strong, commanding hands on me again.

As could probably be expected, I dreamt about Mr. Stevens the whole night through. In my dream, he was my rescuer, saving me from a dark and terrifying force I couldn’t see. Holding me by the hand, he led me away from the darkness and brought me to safety, over and over. At every turn, we searched for a moment of sweet solace – but following right behind us came the intruder, forcing us to run again.

I woke with a start, my eyes shooting open in the harsh morning light. I blinked a few times in a dazed, groggy stupor.
It was all just a dream,
I thought.
It was all just a crazy dream.
For a split-second, I’d forgotten all about the previous day, and Mr. Stevens seemed like merely a figment of my imagination. There was no contract, no tryst – no dominant billionaire staking claim to my body. I felt a confusing mix of disappointment and relief.

But my respite was short-lived. The next moment, my phone rang, bringing all my fanciful thoughts back down to earth. In a flash, it all came flooding back to me. My hand trembling with the sudden realization, I reached over and picked up the phone.

I knew who it was before he even spoke; still, that stern, gravelly voice shot a chill into my heart.

“You’re late.”

I gulped. “What?” It was the only coherent word my jumbled mind could produce at the moment.

“I expected you at 8:30 this morning,” he said. “Didn’t the driver come to get you?”

I looked outside; sure enough, there was a black Lincoln Town Car idling on the street below outside my apartment, with a well-dressed gentleman leaning next to it and smoking a cigarette.

“I… he didn’t say anything,” I stammered. “I didn’t even know he was here. I’m sorry, sir.”

He didn’t answer for a moment. I pictured him seething silently on the other end of the line. When he finally spoke, the icy tone of his voice contained a simmering rage underneath it. “I’ll deal with him later,” he said simply, with a grim finality to his words that made me shudder. “Meanwhile, I expect you to come here right away. There’s much to talk about, and no time for further mistakes like this one. I am
not
pleased, Candace.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m really very sorry, sir,” I repeated. I didn’t know what else to say.

He sighed. “…It’s not your fault,” he said finally. It was a relief to hear those words. Even though I already knew I wasn’t to blame, I was scared of Mr. Stevens’ temper, and it was good to know he wasn’t mad at me. “Now, get moving,” he said. “I’ll see you shortly.”

With that, he hung up, leaving me sitting on the bed with a thousand thoughts running through my mind. I glanced at the phone, and gasped when I saw that it was already 9:45.
Wow, I really did sleep late
, I thought.
It must have been that crazy dream.

I threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. Luckily, if there’s one thing working the morning shift at a coffee shop teaches you, it’s how to get ready in a rush. I grabbed the same clothes from yesterday and threw them on in a flash, swiping deodorant under my arms and spritzing myself with body spray as I struggled to pull on my shoes. There was no time to shower, no time to think – that would have to wait for later. I grabbed a banana from the kitchen on my way out the door, pausing for just a second to check myself out in the mirror. Surprisingly, I didn’t look as disheveled as I felt. My eyes had that smoky, slept-in look of smudged mascara to them, and my hair was actually behaving itself this morning. I checked the time again: 9:53. From start to finish in eight minutes, and I didn’t look half-bad either.
Not too shabby, Candace
, I grinned to myself.

***

When I emerged from the door of my building, the driver jumped up in surprise, flicking his cigarette into the gutter. “There you are,” he said gruffly. “What happened? I’ve been ringing your doorbell for over an hour.”

Oh, crap,
I groaned inwardly, as I realized what had happened. My doorbell had been busted for months. “The bell doesn’t work,” I said sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that. Don’t worry, I’ll clear it up with Mr. Stevens. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

The driver harrumphed. “That man, understand? I doubt it. But that’s all right, miss. Old Tommy doesn’t scare me.”

Tommy?
The driver’s words came as a surprise to me, and compelled me to get a closer look at him. He was a man of about sixty years, immaculately dressed in a navy suit and driver’s cap with a black bill. His white whiskers and bright blue eyes gave him a look that was equal parts dignified and boyish, suggesting a sharp wit hiding behind his creased and furrowed face. His spotless white gloves completed the effect, adding an air of formality to his appearance. I took an immediate liking to him.

“I’m Candace,” I said, sticking out my hand to him for a handshake. “Pleased to meet you.”

As soon as I spoke, his expression softened. He broke out into a wide smile, and to my surprise, he took my hand in his own and kissed it. His moustache tickling my fingers, and I giggled a bit in spite of myself. “The pleasure is mine, madam,” he said, stooping a bit in deference as he spoke. “Carlton Fairbanks, at your service – but you can call me Carl.”  When he looked back into my eyes, I saw a mischievous sparkle there; he reminded me of my grandfather. I felt instantly at ease. 

He smiled warmly, and with a small flourish he opened the curb-side passenger door for me. “Shall we be on our way, then?” he asked. I stepped gingerly into the car, ducking slightly as I entered. It was gorgeously outfitted, with sumptuous dark leather seats and ebony trim all around its spacious back seat. And to my further surprise, there was a small breakfast laid out on the center console: a croissant, a bowl of grapes, and a small glass of orange juice. There was even a daffodil sticking out of a vase.

“Hey, this is nice!” I said, as Carl closed the door behind me and climbed into the front seat. There was a glass plate between the back and front seats, so I had to pull it open to speak to him. “Carl, this is wonderful!” I said. “Thank you so much!”

He looked up into the rearview mirror and smiled as he pulled the car into gear. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said. “Just a little something to make you more comfortable. And miss, if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Tommy’s given me express instructions to make sure your every desire is taken care of.”

I grinned. “Did he, now.” As I took in my luxurious surroundings, I realized this was a perfect opportunity to try and find out more about the man who’d been such a mystery to me. “So… why do you call him Tommy?” I asked, with no attempt to hide my curiosity. “Everyone else calls him Mr. Stevens – even me.”
Except when I’m calling him ‘sir,’
I thought to myself with a blush.

Carl laughed. “Oh, I’ve known Tommy since he was a boy,” he said. “I’ve been driving his family around since before he could talk. I know he’s got a reputation for intimidating people, and believe me, I’ve seen him lose his temper. But when you know someone for as long as I’ve known Tommy, there’s not a whole lot they can say to scare you.” He winked conspiratorially into the mirror, as if what he’d just shared was our little secret.

“So… you knew his family,” I said. Now my interest was really piqued. “What were his parents like?” I leaned forward in my seat, eager to press him for more information.

At this question, Carl’s face lit up. “They were
extraordinary,
” he began. But as soon as he spoke, his face seemed to fall a bit, like he’d been struck by a painful memory. “But that’s a sad story,” he said, and trailed off, looking out his driver’s side window to the ice-blue sky above. He seemed unsure of whether to say more. His eyes flitted back to me, then he settled them straight ahead on the road. I knew in my gut that if I didn’t press him now, I might never get the answers I wanted.

“Please, Carl,” I implored him. “You can tell me.”

He sighed. “It’s too nice a morning to be talking about the past. But all right, I’ll tell you a little bit. You deserve to know, I suppose.” He heaved his shoulders back as if shrugging off an enormous weight, and began to speak.

“The Stevens family’s been in business for generations, going way back to the nineteenth century. They’ve had their hand in everything: textiles, shipping, financials, you name it. During World War Two they even bought up a few pharmaceutical factories, supplying medicine kits to our boys overseas.” He chuckled. “There was a time in this country when the Stevens name carried as much weight as the Vanderbilts. But all that changed when Tommy’s father got sick.”

He paused for a long moment, reflecting on times gone by. I wanted to urge him to go on, but I sensed it was best to remain silent. I hardly dared to breathe, for fear I’d disrupt the moment. Finally, he continued.

“You see, Tommy’s father – Harvey Stevens, god rest his soul – had a business partner, a friend since childhood. Pete Kearns, his name was. Harvey and Pete, they were inseparable. They did everything together; all the company decisions, they made together. It was always the Stevens name on the company, but Kearns was the behind-the-scenes guy. He had as much to do with operations as anyone else.”

He frowned and scratched his whiskers, like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “But when Tommy’s dad got sick, this guy Kearns made a power grab. He was sneaky about it, too – tried to go behind Stevens’ back and get the other board members to vote him into the president’s seat. What a bunch of snakes they were, all of them. But at the last minute, one of the board members told Tommy’s mother Sandra about the scheme. I remember it like it was yesterday – she jumped into the car and I drove her straight to the Stevens building, and she burst into the boardroom just in time to halt the proceedings. She gave Kearns a piece of her mind
that
day.” He chuckled a bit at the memory.

“Yeah, she was a firecracker all right. But from then on… things were rough for their family. Harvey died soon after, and Sandra assumed the president’s seat. Mind you, Tommy was only 12 years old when this was going on. She did the best she could, managing the company, but that bastard Kearns tried to undermine her every step of the way. I know it was hard for Tommy to watch, to be too young do anything about it. That’s where he gets his mean streak from, you know.” I nodded, enthralled by the story. I was seeing Mr. Stevens in a new light.

“But wait,” I said. “Why didn’t Sandra just kick that Kearns guy out of the company?”

Carl made a gesture of resignation. “She tried, but it was impossible. The guy had weaseled himself
so
deep into the records, his name was on every division of the enterprise. And remember, he had half the board members up his sleeve. It was all she could do to keep him from ousting her completely. Can you imagine trying to raise a kid while that’s going on?”