Page 17 of Taming Grumpy Dr. Beast
It had to be at least three stories. I shielded my eyes from the sun to observe the intricate architectural details of the chalk-white stucco and limestone trim mansion before me. A high-pitched roofline reminiscent of a French Renaissance chateau combined a more English design, with various gables and a profusion of chimneys. The place was an eccentric mixture that worked beautifully together. There were wide balustraded terraces at varying levels, and the most intriguing detail was the conical tower attached to the left side of the house. It was fairytale-esque, and I wondered what was housed there.
Looking back at the front of the house, I waved to Ms. Ketill and moved around to the rear of the car to grab my suitcases.
“Oh, no, Dr. LeBeau, I’ll get those for you.” Paul gestured for me to shift out of his way.
“Okay, thank you.” I wasn’t used to this. Was I supposed to tip him like you do for a cab ride or a bellhop? I dug in my purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to him.
He waved it away. “We are all paid quite well here, Dr. LeBeau. Please, keep your money.”
To cover the embarrassment of my faux pas I spoke quickly. “Only if you call me Lily. It feels strange for you to use my last name when I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other on the ride here.”
He smiled. “Absolutely, Dr.—I mean Lily. Anytime you need a ride, just have Ms. Ketill give me a ring.”
I nodded.
“Hello, Dr. LeBeau,” a melodic voice called to me.
I turned to find Ms. Ketill much closer. Now that I could get a better look at her, I realized she was younger than I first thought. Her silver hair was in an elaborate knot at the base of her neck, and her makeup was so skillfully applied that I wondered if she modeled.
Even her outfit wasn’t what I’d have expected. Her clothes at a distance had seemed basic, serviceable even, but upon closer inspection I noticed the expert cut and style indicating their worth. My gaze trailed down to her shoes, which were not only more fashionable than anything I owned, but probably ten times the cost of my most expensive pair.
“Hello, Ms. Ketill,” I said, hoping it was okay to address her with the name Paul had given me.
She gave me a wide smile. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you right to him.”
Ms. Ketill turned and gestured for me to follow her. I wanted to ask who the “him” was, but the way she said it made it seem like I should already know the information. I held my tongue, afraid if I asked, she’d question my intelligence or perhaps my sanity.
Who took a job when they didn’t even know their employer’s name? Oh wait, me.
The house inside was just as overwhelming as the outside. The grand entryway had inset Persian tiles in an iridescent glaze that shimmered as the light hit it through the massive stained glass windows throughout. I glanced up to see massive wood beams and two wrought iron medieval lanterns.
My ballet flats made no sound as we continued from one hall into the next. We moved so fast I didn’t have time to study the scenes depicted on the large tapestries that graced the walls along with paintings that appeared to have been commissioned through the years. I was eagerly anticipating getting the chance to inspect each room thoroughly and learn more about the history of the pieces and architectural details throughout. While I could easily remember the route we took, I figured I needed to ask for a permanent escort or a map before Ms. Ketill left. Otherwise, I’d get lost in the other areas of the mansion.
“Uh, Ms. Ketill...”
“I know it’s a bit of a walk in this house. Great cardio,” she chuckled.
“Right, cardio.” Cardio was not my thing. I loved my curves and was okay with not hitting the gym as part of my daily routine. I cleared my throat, preparing to ask Ms. Ketill about a tracking device, map, anything to help me navigate the house when she stopped short.
“And here we are.” She gave a brisk knock on the door.
“Come in,” a clipped, irritated voice drifted through the heavy wooden door.
Why does that voice sound so familiar?
Ms. Ketill turned the knob as my brain worked through the nuances of his tone. His voice was rough around the edges, yet the rich power behind the command hit me right in the solar plexus. I wondered if people obeyed him when he used that demanding timbre, inorout of bed.
My cheeks burned.Where did that thought come from?
When the house manager gently took my arm, guiding me into the room, I realized I’d been rooted to the spot, so lost in sifting through my memories.
It was a small space, more of a sitting room than an office. A stone fireplace ran along the wall opposite of me with large windows on either side. A small couch rested against the wall to my right with a set of decorative chairs on either side, creating a c-pattern. At the other end of the room, a pair of large, neutral-patterned armchairs sat kitty-cornered facing the gardens that lay beyond the window with a low coffee table in front of them. The spot I loved most, the padded window seat, was placed in front of the same window.
He stood with his back to us. His broad shoulders blocked out much of the sunlight streaming through the window in front of him. The crisp white button-down hugged him, highlighting the toned muscles beneath.
My new employer threw up a hand to indicate we needed to wait a minute while the other clutched at his sleek cell phone. Dark brown hair with a slight wave brushed against the collar of his shirt. As my gaze moved lower, I took in the delicious curve of his backside encased in charcoal pants that were tailored to fit his long thick legs perfectly, ending in polished black leather shoes.
This was not the doddering, old benefactor I’d been picturing in my head. The instinct to run my hands down his back shocked me. I bet he was exceedingly handsome. I’d been attracted to other men before, but there was something about him that drew me in and made me wish I’d met him under different circumstances.
