Page 98 of Dr. Aster

Well, maybe they all didn’t have this. I honestly didn’t know, but I knew I was definitely out of my element, trying to act like this was normal.

“It is my humble pleasure. My staff and I are honored to care for all your needs. Everything has been prepared, and our chef is at your leisure should any of you work up an appetite at any hour of the day.” He stepped back and held his white-gloved hands behind his back while we stood there looking like a tourist group, “Please enjoy your stay. While we won’t be in your presence, we are close by and ready to meet any needs you may have.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” John said, then dismissed him with a nod while taking my hand into his. “Well, shall we see if this home meets our requirements for this Christmas party, vacation, ski trip, getaway?”

As four men descended the steps to gather the luggage from the vehicles, I glanced at John, wondering if I was about to see the real John Aster—son of Mr. and Mrs. Sebastian Aster IV, the family in the photos he’d shown me at the hospital while I was getting stitched up.

This was a new side of John, and I was intimidated if I was truthful with myself. I didn’t know how to act or react in a home with servants. I was used to showing up at an Airbnb, excited when the homeowners had stocked the kitchen. This was far more than that, and even though it was exciting to feel like I was Elizabeth Bennett touring Mr. Darcy’s home, I was nervous I’d screw something up.

I had no plans to allow my insecurities to ruin this ski trip, but I was curious to learn more about this side of Dr. John Aster and find out if I had what it took to go the distance.

Chapter Thirty-Four

John

Because Mr. Jenkins was pretty much my parents’ informer and had practically raised my brothers and me in every home we’d ever lived, I kept things extremely professional. After seeing how my brother behaved at dinner the other night, it was undeniable that my mother was up to something.

She’d been perfectly fine with me staying with friends at our Aspen home plenty of other times; she’d never sent the main house butler to babysit me and my friends before, but this time, she’d pulled out all the stops.

Word must’ve traveled to her that Mark and I had an extremely strange dinner, or perhaps she was just on red alert because my brother was ready to jump ship on his wedding and engagement. It was easy to tell there was drama back home in New York, and I did what I’d always done best when shit flew around any Aster Family Estate—dodged all communication about it.

My mother wasn’t one to lay low. She was known for controlling the entire family. Don’t get me wrong, my dad was a strong-willed man who ran his boys with an iron fist, but that always came behind my mother’s desire to have this family run as she saw fit.

Mark’s behavior at dinner was a fair enough warning that my mother was now putting eyes on me and what I was doing or who I was entertaining in my personal life.

This could easily bother me if I allowed it to, but I wouldn’t. In fact, knowing that my mother had sent Mr. Jenkins to run the house made me a bit excited. I knew the old man would report back to headquarters, so I might enjoy giving my mother something to worry about.

This is the price you pay when you get nosy and don’t trust my decisions, Mother, I thought with a grin, leading everyone through the grand entrance and directing them to the suites of their choosing.

“And you and I are on the master suite floor,” I said, kissing Mickie on her temple while leading her up the stairs. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s insanely beautiful,” she said with awe. “This is just the Aspen home, eh?”

“Ha. Yes, and how do you feel about the staff on hand?” I questioned, understanding that not everyone might be comfortable with having an entire staff around.

I had to keep things in balance, and if I did that, this trip would go off without a hitch. The guys and their wives were most likely used to this pretentious nonsense. They, like me, didn’t prefer all the fuss, but we could all deal just fine without issue. What I worried about was that it would be overwhelming for Mickie, and that was the last thing that I wanted.

“It’s different,” she said with a laugh, after we crossed the landing area that overlooked the large stone fireplace of the living room and finally reached the master suite.

Mickie turned to me, shook her head, and smiled, evidently overwhelmed at the vast room that was easily the size of an average home, complete with its own fireplace, living area, a bed that could fit ten people, and walls garnished with antique Nordic skis.

The place was something one would dream about for their ideal log cabin. It was complete with a sauna, heated pool room, billiard room, gym, two suites on the first floor, three bedrooms and a suite on the second floor, and this entirely isolated third-floor master suite. The house was my favorite of the multiple luxurious homes my parents owned all over the world, but it had a tendency to be a bit much for the average stay. This time, however, for this occasion, it was perfect.

“Listen,” I walked toward Mickie after she turned to face the windows that gave us a sprawling view of Aspen’s slopes and the village below. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and kissed the side of her neck, inhaling her sweet perfume, “I know it’s probably overwhelming with butlers and maids and shit, but you’ll hardly see them.”

She turned to face me, and her beautiful eyes lit up the room better than the brilliant white, snowy hills that came from beyond the massive windows of the home, “Is this honestly how your family lives?”

“The long answer will probably make you bored to tears, but the short answer is yes.”

“I find it intriguing, although a bit intimidating,” she said, her eyes scanning the smoothly carved logs that were fashioned to create the massive bed and the matching furniture decorating this suite.

“Don’t be intimidated, love,” I said. “I’m nothing like them. I don’t live this way, and you know that. You’ve seen my place, and there’s not a butler, maid, or chef to be found.”

She chuckled, “Yeah, but your home is just as nice as this, if not sleeker, and I just?—”

“Mick,” I said with a smile and sigh, “you know this is not my style. Sure, maybe I bought a hundred thousand dollars of camping equipment and a vehicle to haul it for an overnight camping trip, and my home is up there with some of the better ones in my neighborhood, but it’s all just stuff.”

I think I was saying this more for myself than for Mickie. I saw the woman standing before me, and these raw emotions that warmed me and made me feel complete were worth more than anything else. This woman was worth more to me than any possession or dollar amount I could ever see in my bank account.

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