2. Ava
Chapter 2
Ava
I study the keypad. Main reception. Deliveries. Pool house.
Did I miss the part where my grandfather told me his old school friend owns a mansion? I figured Magnus Grant would be wealthy, but this is just one of his properties near London. I was expecting a cute cottage with a pretty garden to sit in while I work. Not a beautiful Georgian mansion.
Intricate moldings around the roof peek out from behind a sprawling lawn that’s decorated with topiary bushes. One’s even shaped like a plane. Grandfather said Magnus was a plane enthusiast, always making those DIY models at boarding school. It makes sense that his family own an airline.
I hover over the intercom before stabbing a guess and pressing the button for main reception. There’s an extended pause before a female voice answers, “Yes? ”
I angle my face up toward the security camera on the gate’s stone pillar.
I flash my best grin, hoping it conveys gratitude for the fact I’m coming to stay rent-free for the next couple of months. I had wanted to contribute, but Magnus wouldn’t hear of it. It was a relief, because having just completed my master’s degree in business and, with no job lined up yet, money is tight.
“Hi. I’m Ava Roberts. William’s grand daug—”
“I know who you are,” the voice clips. “Come to the back door. I’ve just had the entryway stone polished.”
“Okay,” I say, but the intercom has already shut off.
The giant black metal gates slide open, and I drag my suitcase up the gravel driveway. Gramps lent it to me, not realizing it’d lost one of its wheels until he took it out of the attic. There wasn’t time to get a new one, and it wouldn’t have been worth it anyway. After all, I won’t be using it again.
By the time I find the back door, my arm is aching. I rub my shoulder before raising my fist to knock on the old wooden door. A small woman with pinched features and graying hair pulled back in a tight French twist opens it.
“You’re pretty.” She purses her lips. “Is your hair naturally that color?”
I tuck a loose auburn strand behind my ear. “Yep, I inherited it from my mother.”
She admires it, and I half expect her to reach out to stroke it .
“Very well.” Her thin lips stretch into a small smile. “I’m Margaret, the housekeeper. Welcome to Rochwell House.”
She stands aside to let me in. I drag my suitcase in and glance at the door as I pass. The wood is solid and thick, closing with a deep thud.
“Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
I follow Margaret up the flagstone hallway, passing an old wooden staircase. We walk into the kitchen, an airy room with cream units and a white stone countertop. It’s bigger than the house I was living in at the university.
My eyes bounce around the space as I take in the rows of matching mugs hanging beneath some open shelving, a giant bean to cup machine on the counter beneath them.
“You can help yourself to anything you like. I’ve stocked this fridge for you.” Margaret opens a cupboard to reveal a hidden fridge stuffed full of fresh fruit and snacks. The inside door is lined with cartons of my favorite grapefruit juice. “Mr. Grant asked William what you liked,” she adds.
“Wow, thanks,” I say, glancing at the eight-seater table set up in front of a large glass door that leads out onto the manicured lawns.
“You can eat breakfast and lunch here, should you wish. I don’t come in until the afternoon. Mr. Grant is home around seven, and dinner is served at seven-thirty in the dining room. There’s an outdoor heated pool and pool house. He thought you might like to use the pool house to work in.”
“That’s so kind of him… I can’t believe this.” I admire the single-story pool house out of the window. “And I love to swim. But I didn’t pack a bathing suit, I’ll have to order one.”
Margaret hitches a brow and her eyes rake over my cropped jeans and T-shirt. “Yes, I suppose you will. Now, there’s no bathing suits to be worn wet inside the house. These old floors are a nightmare for slipping on when wet. And I don’t like tending to broken bones.”
“Noted. No bathing suits in the house.”
She nods in approval. She’s the housekeeper, and I’m merely a guest in this amazing house. Magnus Grant has saved me from having to move back in with Gramps. As much as I love him, I’ll never get the project I’m working on finished. We just keep talking when we’re together. I’ll agree to every rule Margaret sets in order to make sure I don’t abuse Magnus’s hospitality.
She shows me around the rest of the ground floor, then we go outside, and I get to appreciate the full expanse of beautiful gardens as we walk to the pool house. It’s the perfect base to work. There’s a sofa area and a workspace set up, and it has a small bathroom and mini refrigerator.
“David, the landscaper, comes three times a week,” Margaret tells me as we head back inside the house and climb the grand staircase in the foyer. “You can invite friends over, but if they’re staying for dinner, I require notice.”
“My friend, Liv, might come. But she’s studying so it would only be for a day or two.”
I can picture Liv’s face when she sees Magnus’s house. She’ll be awestruck just like me.
“Very well,” she clips as she leads me along the hallway, stopping in front of a closed door. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with this room. The guest suite is being decorated.”
I nod, and she opens the door that leads into a giant, bright room, decorated in cream and white. In the center is a modern four poster bed, minus drapes, and there are doors that lead out onto a small balcony overlooking the garden.
“Oh my goodness.” I clap my palms and bounce on the spot, earning myself an amused look from Margaret. She resembles a strict mother. One full of kindness beneath a misleading, rigid exterior. I bet I can have her laughing before my time here is over.
I set my suitcase down at the foot of the bed and take in the vintage airline prints adorning the walls.
“The bathroom is through here.” Margaret walks past me, and I follow her through a dressing area, half-filled with men’s suits, to the doorway of a marble bathroom with a giant rainfall shower.
“Mr. Grant has beautiful taste,” I say as I stare open-mouthed, excitement bubbling through me at the luxurious surroundings .
“He does. He’s extremely specific about what he likes.” She looks at the dressing room rails. “That side is empty. But if you need more space for your clothes, I can get these suits put into storage.”
“No, I don’t want to be any bother.” I walk over to a giant set of drawers on the empty side of the room and slide the top one open. I bite back my grin at the luxury velvet-lined compartments inside.
Perfect.
“I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at—”
“Seven-thirty. Thank you so much.” I beam at her, and she nods with a satisfied smile at my obedience.
Once she leaves, I grab my phone from my purse to video call Liv, unable to keep the Cheshire cat grin off my face.
“Hey, Bitch,” she answers. “How’s the new work retreat?”
“Stunning.”
I pan the phone around the room and then go out onto the balcony to show her the grounds.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I laugh as she shoves her long black hair out of her eyes and gawks.
“It’s official. I’m jealous.” She sighs. “I’d get a ton of work done if I was there and not living with a bunch of noisy, overgrown mummies’ boys.”
I smile at her description. The guys she lives with near campus are a nice, if loud, bunch, especially when it comes to hosting mid-week parties. But she’s right. They’re all mummies’ boys that take their laundry home every weekend.
Liv still has a year of her marketing degree left. I’m so glad I’ve already graduated and can have my own space.
“I’m grateful to Gramps for setting this up.” I sink into a wicker chair on the balcony and gaze out over the lush green lawn.
“He’s a legend,” Liv agrees. “And you’ll get loads done, being somewhere without distractions. It’ll be good for you. So good for you.”
“You’re right.”
“I always am.” She winks.
She and Gramps have been saying the same thing for years. I need this. It’s time I did it.
“Magnus said I can have guests. Why don’t you come one weekend?”
“Sounds amazing,” Liv hums.
We chat for another twenty minutes, the warm glow of talking about nothing in particular with my friend spreading through my entire body.
“Love you,” I say as I wander back inside the room and unzip my suitcase, pulling my laptop out.
Liv blows me a kiss and coos, “Bye, Bitch,” before hanging up.
I sit on top of the plush white bedding and fire up my laptop, going straight to the reason I’m here.
The title glares back at me from the open Word document. Two words that bring a barrage of emotions with them .
I hover the cursor over the text, then blow out a ragged breath.
I click on the line below instead and start typing.