Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) (293 page)

I start to turn away, wanting to sneak out without feeling like an intruder.

Halfway through my first step, his voice makes me freeze.

“Ms. Middleton.”

I close my eyes and exhale. How long did he know I was there?

I turn to face him, plastering on a fake smile against the roiling in my stomach.

I swallow. “Yes?” I say.

His back is still to me. The fingers of his right hand run over the keys in a wistful motion.

“You listened to the recording?”

My gut seizes up. “Yes.”

“There is a reason…” he hits a single key. The sound is shrill and unnerving. “…that the property has no signal. I am a man who values his privacy. I trust you understand.”

“Yes,” I say again, despite the last coming across nothing like a question.

“Good. Dinner is set and waiting on the table. You will find the new contract there as well. Sign, and your employment will begin tomorrow morning. You can take the rest of the night to acquaint yourself with the property. After all…” his voice becomes an octave lower, “…that is what you are here to do.”

Chapter Seven

I find the dining room—dining hall—after a bit of wandering.

There’s a massive wood table in the middle. It can easily seat a party of fifty.

One chair is set. In front of it is a metal platter
covered with a buffet lid.

But in front of
that
is a stapled stack of papers. I leaf through it. It’s a replica of the first employment contract I signed and mailed. The only thing different is the dates.

I pick up the pen and scribble my signature. Then I lift up the lid and look at my food.

There’s a single protein bar still in its wrapper.

It sits all alone in the middle of the plate. There’s nothing else.

I look around. Obviously, there’s nobody else here. I think,
Is this a joke?

My stomach rumbles but I have no appetite for glorified dog food. I stand and grab the contract, intent on going straight back to Sylvain—

I turn and find him watching me from the doorway.

His lips quirk in a little smile. “You’re dissatisfied,” he says.

My hands clench into two fists behind my back.
Don’t piss him off, Dani.

“When you said dinner,” I start, trying to keep my tone neutral, “I expected—“

“Real food?” he finishes for me. He steps into the dining hall and starts a slow walk along the table.

I grip the back of my chair.

His footsteps make distinct clapping sounds against the cobblestone floor. They echo through the chamber to morph into something quite menacing.

“You see,” he tells me, “I am not the greatest cook. One of your responsibilities, for the duration of your stay, will be to prepare my meals for me.” He stops and looks me straight in the eyes. “Unless you object?”

What is he playing at? I wonder.

“That’s not exactly what I signed up for…” I begin.

His gaze hardens. I swallow and quickly change what I was going to say. “But I have no objection. I can do that, sure.”

He nods once and breaks eye contact. “Good,” he says. “I am pleased.”

He continues the slow walk around the table toward me. His left hand runs over the back of each chair.

I watch him, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to expect. Sylvain Alastair does not seem like a man who would be fond of small talk. There is purpose in everything he does. From the briefest glance to the smallest step, I feel like he gives each mannerism significance.

My breath hitches when he stops beside me. He gestures down at my chair.

“Please,” he says. “Sit.”

Cautiously, and a little stiffly, I do.

“I see you’ve signed our new terms.” He holds his hand out, palm up. “I’ll take those papers now.”

With my arm only trembling a little, I hand him the contract.

Our fingers brush. An electric spark runs up my arm.

“Hmm,” he murmurs. “Cold. Your hands are so cold.”

He tucks the contract under his arm. Then, without warning, he envelops my hand with both of his.

Warmth flows into me from him. But it’s very unsettling.

I dare not move. Not when he’s this close. Not when he is this intensely focused on me.

“You’re frightened now,” he whispers. His eyes move down to my chest with absolutely no apology. “I can feel your heart beat.”

With a gasp, I jerk away. A bemused smile plays on his lips. He sits down next to me.

“We are not employer-employee yet,” he says. “So I consider this a fine opportunity to use our first names. Don’t you think… Dani?”

Something in his voice compels me to turn and face him.

His eyes are locked to my face. His gaze is so focused it almost feels obsessive.

My throat suddenly goes dry. Any words I wanted to speak evaporate from my mind.

I’m absolutely struck by the sight of the man.

He is… to put it plainly, he is beautiful. There’s the slightest hint of a boyish disposition behind those eyes. Otherwise, they are dark and deep. His face is all hard lines and angles, but from beyond his eyes lies an alluring softness that calls to me.

“I fell in love once,” he whispers, “With a girl who looked just like you.” He reaches up and touches my lips.

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.”