“Mr. Church, there are things we need to discuss.”
“I’ve been driving for hours. The least you can do is let me take a fucking leak and grab some water.”
The door to the house opens before he can say anything else. An older man in a white linen suit answers with a polite smile. This suit, I can at least get behind. It looks far more suitable for this fucked-up weather than Mr. MIB’s behind me.
“Mr. Church, I presume. My name is Greyson. I’m the house steward. If you have any questions or issues, I’m the person to ask. Would you like me to show you to your rooms?”
“Rooms? As in more than one?”
He smiles. “Miss Carson wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”
“Well, by all means, show me to my rooms.”
He instructs me to follow him, which I do, ignoring the huff behind me as I walk across a large foyer to a curved staircase.
I take in the black and white tiled floors and the huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It’s a little ostentatious, but it fits. A staircase on the opposite side of this one leads up to the same spot on the first floor.
“The guest rooms are predominantly on this floor, but given the nature of your role here, I’ve prepared the rear wing of the second floor for you.”
“Honestly, Greyson, I’m a simple guy. A single room is plenty for me.”
“Miss Carson recognizes that you’re away from your friends and family, and with no end date in sight, she wishes to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”
I sigh but let it go. I’m not sure what the woman thinks I’m going to do with a whole wing, but if it makes her happy, who am I to complain?
“Where does the security team sleep?”
“They are staying in the staff quarters.”
“Is that on the ground floor?”
“Sorry, sir, I didn’t explain that well, did I? The staff quarters are in a separate building on the other side of the lake. Hence, the reason why she needs a live-in guard.”
“She didn’t want to just move one of them in?”
“No.”
I wait for more but frown when he doesn’t say anything else. I don’t push, sensing that he won’t say anything if he’s been asked not to.
“Okay. Is there anything I need to know, such as dos and don’ts, places that are off-limits, etc.? I haven’t been briefed yet.”
“Though Mr. Cox’s team is good at their job, they are hired to guard the property and keep intruders out. You are the one being hired to protect Miss Carson herself. They won’t be able to brief you on what you need to know. However, I have taken the liberty of compiling a dossier and leaving it in your room for you to read at your own pace.”
I frown at his back, but I figure rich people have their own ways of doing things. In the end, it matters little. Though part of me is confused over why she doesn’t have a handful of near-protection guards already, part of me understands it. Too many strangers underfoot. At some point, your house stops becoming your home and becomes your prison instead.
“As I said, everything should be covered in the dossier. The only things of importance you need to know right away are that the third floor is off-limits unless there is an emergency, and Miss Carson doesn’t like to be touched under any circumstances.”
I pause, staring at his back. “By anyone, or just strangers?”
He turns to stare at me, a sad look passing over his face before he evades the question. “Dinner will be served at six p.m. Breakfast is at nine a.m. Please let me or the chef know if you have any allergies.” He pushes open the door beside him as I start walking again.
And though he continues talking, I can only think about Matilda Carson and how lonely her life sounds.
Chapter Two
MATILDA
I stare out the window at the lake’s calm water and wish I was out there, breath held deep, arms held strong as I cut through the water with a determination I’ve struggled to find in recent months.