Page 1 of Eleazar

Chapter One

Andrew smoothed his hand down his shirt as he stood by his car, looking at the magnificence before him. The house was cream-colored, the walls giving way to curved windowpanes, while a sheltered entrance completed the opulence of the estate. In the center of the round driveway there was a fountain, surrounded by bushes and a bed of red mulch.

He’d never been to a house this freaking fancy. Was he supposed to park in the driveway? Andrew wasn’t sure, though he didn’t see anywhere else to park. He was here for a job interview, and since he hadn’t been told where to park, he decided to leave his car where it was.

He also couldn’t understand why he was interviewing at night, but the pay was worth coming out in the dark, or the freezing cold, or whenever Mr. Eleazar Bancroft wanted. Hell, Andrew would have come out in a hurricane if it meant getting out from under his debt.

Andrew glanced around as he made his way through the covered entrance, feeling a strange sensation prickling at the back of his neck. The mansion loomed before him, its imposing facade contrasting sharply with the dark sky. He felt like he was entering a forbidden place, somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Just relax and stop being nervous,” he muttered to himself. “This place just looks forbidden because you really need this job and it’s all dark and creepy outside.”

This was the opportunity he had been waiting for, the chance to work for a successful businessman. The prospect of being a personal assistant was daunting, but he felt prepared. He hoped.

Honestly, this was his first job out of college, and he prayed he didn’t screw this up. Rich people made him nervous, and Andrew hoped like hell his boss, or prospective boss, wasn’t a downright prick.

After another private pep talk to himself, he rang the doorbell and waited, telling himself to breathe. He pushed back a few strands of hair, checked his breath, and then straightened his shoulders as a tall and handsome guy answered the door.

“You must me Andrew Wendell.”

“Yes, I’m here for my interview with Mr. Bancroft.” Shit, why had his voice held a little squeak? He had to pull it together.

“Call me Shayde.” The guy stepped back to allow Andrew to enter. Shayde had dark hair, and even darker eyes, and wasn’t really Andrew’s type, but he could still admit the guy was good-looking, even if Andrew got a sense of something else about the guy. Something dark and intimidating.

Holy shit! Preoccupied trying to figure Shayde out, Andrew hadn’t noticed the interior. It was so impressive that he could only stare. The inside of the house was just as grand as the outside. Stone floors and glassy surfaces buffed to perfection. It was all so overwhelming. Andrew wondered who this Mr. Bancroft was and how he’d gotten so filthy rich.

Andrew had found out about the job through a friend, and he’d jumped on it right away, surprised he’d gotten an actual interview. He still knew nothing of Eleazar Bancroft.

He’d Googled the guy but hadn’t found much. Just some stuff about a charity event, but his picture wasn’t shown. Mr. Bancroft was a complete mystery, and Andrew wished he knew more so he could have better prepared himself.

He turned when he heard approaching footsteps.

“Andrew Wendell, meet Mr. Eleazar Bancroft,” Shayde said with a hint of a smirk, as if he knew how awestruck Andrew would be. And he was. Good god. Mr. Bancroft was downright gorgeous.

Andrew was struck by the sheer charisma and confidence that oozed from the man as Mr. Bancroft walked toward him. He was tall, with angular features, broad shoulders, and a commanding presence that immediately drew Andrew’s attention.

Great. Now Andrew was twice as nervous.

“Mr. Bancroft, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Andrew managed to stutter out, feeling slightly flustered by the man’s overwhelming presence.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Wendell,” Eleazar replied, extending his hand. “We’ll take this to my office.”

As soon as they entered, Mr. Bancroft sat in a leather chair behind a mahogany desk, so polished that you could probably see your reflection. Andrew walked toward the desk, trying to seem as if he belonged there. He sat down, feeling Mr. Bancroft’s gaze on him.

Just don’t sweat out your dress shirt. No one wants to hire anyone with pit stains. He’s gorgeous. Get over it and act professionally. Don’t you dare ogle him!

For the next few minutes, Mr. Bancroft asked him questions about his qualifications and experience, and Andrew tried to answer as best as he could. He noticed how Mr. Bancroft seemed to be studying him, almost as if he was trying to read his mind. It made Andrew a little uncomfortable, but he forced himself not to squirm.

Finally, Mr. Bancroft leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “I believe you have the qualifications we are looking for, Mr. Wendell,” he said slowly.

Seriously? Andrew’s heart leaped with joy at this, but then Mr. Bancroft continued, his voice lowering as he leaned in closer. “However, there’s one last thing I must ask of you before I make my decision.”

A knot formed in the pit of Andrew’s stomach. What could Mr. Bancroft possibly want from him that he hadn’t already asked? He tried to keep his expression neutral, waiting for Mr. Bancroft to elaborate.

“I require complete discretion and loyalty from my personal assistant. There may be certain…things you will see and hear while working for me that must remain confidential. And if you accept this position, I must have your word that you will not speak of anything to anyone.”

Andrew’s mind raced. What kind of things could he possibly see or hear that would require such secrecy? Was he getting in over his head? He knew that working for a businessman like Mr. Bancroft would require some discretion, but this was on a whole different level. Did Mr. Bancroft throw orgies while naked women walked around the house? Andrew racked his brain trying to think of what kinds of things the guy could be talking about.

Before he could dwell on it further, Mr. Bancroft spoke again. “I can see you’re hesitant, Mr. Wendell. But this is non-negotiable. I need someone I can trust, implicitly. Are you that person?”

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