24. None of Your Business
None of Your Business
Charlotte
T he next morning, I sit at Arden’s huge kitchen island, sip tea from a china cup, and watch his “Hampton’s chef” work on preparations for lunch.
“Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?” I ask the chef a second time.
Phyllis appears to be in her late thirties. Her ash-blonde hair is tucked into an efficient bun at the nape of her neck, and she wears a black chef’s uniform. She gives me a kind smile as she arranges fancy little ribbons of cucumber on a platter. “I’m sure. I have a routine.”
A large expanse of windows commands one wall, looking out over a rolling lawn, several outbuildings, and a winterized pool and tennis court. The ocean is slate gray on the horizon, and a light drizzle leaves fog thick on the ground.
Arden told me the indoor pool and tennis courts were available should I need them. I assured him I wouldn’t.
Of course, that was last night, and before I realized I’d have six hours to fill until he returns.
Arden left before the sun came up to be home when the boys woke. He’s taking Henry to his appointment, then his return will depend on how Henry takes it, and if he needs Arden there.
I explored what I could for hours already. There were convenient staff members nearby at all times, ready to redirect me to tour the library or billiards room and other “public” spaces.
I’m not privy to the “private quarters” in this house when he’s not here. I wasn’t snooping, but the house is a grand Gothic-Revival mansion with a lot of original features. The temptation is real.
I took a walk outside, planning to circle the house and get a good look at it. Unfortunately, his security guards seemed to think I was casing the place, so I abandoned my mission before someone could slap me in handcuffs and interrogate me about why I was so curious about the layout or the roof pitch and number of gables.
I finish my last sip of tea and startle when, through the window, I see two men and one woman, wearing what looks like tactical gear, walk from an outbuilding toward a garage bay.
Phyllis glances at me, then outside, before giving me a sympathetic smile. “I imagine it must be hard to see them and not think of Steve and how different your lives would be if he’d lived.”
I frown, not understanding her meaning at all. “You knew him?”
“I split my schedule between here and the place in Upstate New York. Sooner or later, I feed the whole team. He talked about you a lot, and your baby girl. I was looking forward to getting to know you. The wives and girlfriends stick together. We’d go crazy if we didn’t.”
She has to be confused. Steve was in school for pre-law. He got a job at Arden’s office as a clerk. He wasn’t a bodyguard.
Before I can correct her, she goes on. “I know Steve didn’t die in the line of duty, but I’m glad Arden is willing to take you on as one of his strays, anyway. The McRae expects unwavering loyalty, but he returns it too.”
I set the teacup on the saucer with a rattle. “Excuse me?”
She looks up from the platter in front of her and grins. “Don’t tell me you don’t know about ‘ The McRae’ ?”
I shake my head.
“Technically, I think Mr. McRae and his father do have some titles and land in Scotland, but they were both born here. Reese started calling him ‘Laird’ to yank his chain. It snowballed from there.”
She chuckles, then changes the subject. “So what kind of job are you looking for, Charlotte?”
I frown. “I’m an architect.” I shake my head. “I’m a senior in college. I will be an architect.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, that’s perfect. You were smart to reach out now. I’m sure he’ll get you squared away with a great career at one of his family’s companies. Job security is so important when you have kids. If you need something part-time while you’re in school, we have an opening in housekeeping here. He won’t mind if you bring your daughter with you. He’s generous about things like that. There are groundskeeper’s cottages, and apartments here for staff. My husband Clay and I live with our kids in one of the cottages. It makes the daily commute easy,” she says with a wink.
“Is one of your kids a boy named Dante?”
She stacks tiny, crustless sandwiches on a platter. “Uh-oh. What did he do?”
I smile. “Nothing. When Arden and I kissed in front of your husband yesterday, Dante’s habit of telling you two to get a room came up.”
A butter knife clatters to the quartz countertop. Brows furrowed, Phyllis stares at me with apparent confusion. “You kissed him ?”
“We kissed each other. I wasn’t exactly alone.” Shoot . We haven’t defined our relationship, but my immediate family and Rochelle know about Arden.
Phyllis is so comfortable in Arden’s home that I’d started to feel as if I was talking to his sister. But she’s Arden’s employee. “We aren’t making public announcements, but considering that he kissed me in front of your husband, I don’t think he’s keeping it a secret in his own house.”
She presses her lips together. “Sorry for the overreaction. We’re all a little protective here. We wouldn’t want to see—” She seems to think better of what she was going to say. “Are you hungry? Lunch won’t be served for forty minutes, but I can get you something to nibble before then.”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you. What did you mean when you called me a stray?” Because the name smarts, as does her apparent judgment about Arden’s and my relationship.
She blinks at my change of subject. “No offense intended. He doesn’t call us that. It’s what we call ourselves. My first husband, Peter, died in the Vinucci war. Arden personally paid off the mortgage on my house, gave me a job, and a place to live where we’d have security for me and the kids afterward. He looked out for all of us, one way or another.”
War? The papers described it as the family destroying themselves when Arden put key leadership behind bars.
Other than the assassination attempt against him, I hadn’t realized Arden or his men had any direct involvement beyond the courtroom. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m glad Arden treated you well. I don’t need him for a job, though. Arden and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We’re”—I stumble over my words and land on—“ close . I’m here to spend some time with him.”
Her eyebrows lift as she juliennes a carrot with perfect precision. “Right.”
She glances my way, and something in her eyes has hardened. “When Steve died, Mr. McRae extended his sympathy, and an offer of assistance, I’m sure. He’s a loyal person. But he is not”—her knife cleaves through a new carrot—“someone you can manipulate. If you’re looking for a sugar daddy, keep moving. I’ve known Arden McRae for a long time. He doesn’t pay for companionship. He doesn’t need to. And if you’ve been ripping out magazine pages with his picture on them or clipping articles from the New York Times and plastering them on your bedroom wall, imagining some Prince Charming fantasy, you need to stop before you embarrass yourself.”
My mouth opens. Then closes.
Her eyes soften with something that looks like pity. “Damn. That was it? It would have been better if you’d come looking for money.” She shakes her head and mutters under her breath, “Less humiliating.”
“I’m not obsessed with him or whatever it is you seem to think.”
She shrugs. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
I narrow my eyes. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with Arden.”
Her blade chops through the vegetables in a blur. “Don’t tell me. I can guess. You showed up unannounced and uninvited. He didn’t want to turn away Steve’s widow, but he wasn’t about to allow you in his home with his children. So he sent you out here. Now you’re cooling your heels until he finds time to fit you into his schedule. When he arrives for lunch, he’ll bring his mother or father or ask Reese to eat with the two of you, so that it’s a group affair, and you won’t get clingy.”
Heat scorches through me, but whether it’s embarrassment or anger, I don’t know.
“He’ll make polite conversation. Then he’ll ask if he can assist you with finding a job. After which, he’ll suggest you get on the road, so you can make it home before nightfall. You’ll pass through that gate. He’ll breathe a sigh of relief that he handled you without drama. And then he’ll forget you ever existed.”
“You skipped the part where I slept in his bed.”
She closes her eyes, as if she’s praying. “You naive girl,” she mutters so quietly I doubt I was meant to hear it.
Louder, she says, “If you showed up and threw yourself at him, of course he took you up on your offer. The only thing it means is that you’re pretty, and he wanted sex.”
“Does your husband know you’re in love with your boss?” I ask.
She sets the knife on the countertop, plants both of her hands flat on the surface, and leans toward me. “You understand nothing. We, all of us who lived through the Vinucci family, came out of that time with scars. Of the original fifty members of his team, twenty-seven survived. The McRae lost his wife two months before that nightmare started. He had babies at home to protect. I had a baby at home when Peter came to tell me the fucking mafia had set its sights on this family, and he was staying to fight for the McRae. We sacrificed our lives for him in ways someone like you could never understand. No one knows what it’s like to step in front of a loaded gun until they’ve done it.”
I have. Literally. But I don’t owe her or anyone else my story.
I watch her in silence. The stories in the news barely skimmed the surface. Arden kept all of it under wraps. The world doesn’t know his team died undercover, never receiving public recognition of what they were fighting for.
“Arden McRae isn’t the man he was. He’s not capable of being anyone’s Prince Charming. If he loved you? You would run screaming,” Phyllis says.
I watch her with steady eyes and tilt my head to the side. “They say fight or flight is an instinct. Turns out mine is to stand my ground. Go figure.”
She shakes her head. “I’m trying to help both of you. There are things you don’t understand. He was burning with anger when his wife died. Then the war beat him into tempered steel. If he loved you, he wouldn’t just expect to know where you were every second of every day, he’d have guards on you because he couldn’t sleep at night if he didn’t. He’d expect you to learn how to use a firearm and pull the trigger if someone makes it through those guards. If someone hurt or insulted you, he would make it his mission to defend you, whether you want him to or not. He’ll hold you to his own standards, and they’re ones no one could live with. His love will feel like control. You’ll suffocate under the weight of it.”
Her mouth tightens. “When he offers you a job, and he will, I suggest you take it. It’ll make you both feel like this wasn’t a waste of your time. When lunch is over, get back in your car, drive away, and forget about whatever dream you have of playing happy family.”
I haven’t let myself dream, but that’s none of her business. “You and I have a very different idea of what constitutes loyalty.”
“I’m protecting him. If he gets involved with you, and you can’t take the pressure, one of you is going to break. If it turns out to be him”—she points her knife at me—“I’ll kill you myself.”
“Are you done?”
She lifts her chin. “I’ve said what I needed to.”
“If I ask Arden to stand down, he’ll do it or he’ll find a way that works for both of us. If he wanted to assign me a guard, then we’d talk about it and figure out which one of us was right. Neither of us will ever break because we respect and support each other.” I move closer and dip my chin, but she refuses to make eye contact with me. “You call yourself his stray and need him to lead you. He calls me his confidante and asks for my advice. You don’t know him better because you know him differently.”
I reach for my cup and saucer and carry them to the sink, then I turn back to face her. “If you ever threaten me again, you should know I was raised on a farm. I’ve fed an animal on Saturday and eaten it for dinner on Sunday. I don’t need Arden to teach me how to use a firearm. I can field dress a buck, alone, with nothing but a hunting knife, then drag it back to my daddy’s truck with a smile on my face. I respect nature. I’m grateful that it keeps my family fed. I love deer. Imagine what I could do if I were threatened, instead of hungry.”
She remains unmoving as I walk toward the door. Steps sound in the hallway, then Arden appears, his face lighting with one of those movie-star handsome smiles when he sees me.
He cups my face and kisses me slowly, then smooths my hair across my forehead and behind my ear. “I heard you might be in here.”
“Just getting to know Phyllis better,” I say.
He turns his head as though noticing she’s in the room for the first time. “Oh. Hey, Phyllis. How are you today?”
“Very well. Thank you,” she says stiffly.
“I’ll need you to serve four today and move lunch back by an hour.” He glances at his watch, then gives me a crooked grin. “My parents have decided to join us.”