Chapter 6 #2
Undoubtedly, Porter’s estate manager saw to it that the place was cleaned and updated a bit after going unused for who knows how long.
The smell of fresh paint hangs in the air as I close the door behind myself, surveying the space wearily.
A kitchenette is situated to my left, on the side of the house nearest the door, with a new stove and refrigerator standing amongst the old wood cabinets.
The room is virtually empty, with no furniture apart from a little kitchen table, a single chair, and a cracked, ornate sideboard which looks as though it once belonged in the main house.
To the left, a combined living room and bedroom is furnished sparsely as well, but the mattress looks new, and the couch—another fancy, out-of-place relic of the Porters’—is clean.
Beside the old iron bedframe, a darkened doorway stands open, likely leading to the bathroom.
Someone, a housekeeper maybe, left a stack of sheets, blankets, and towels at the end of the bed.
Drawing forward, all the energy seems to go out of me, and I allow my bag to fall to the well-worn wood floor with a heavy thud.
The space is impersonal and cold. A fireplace stands ready on the back wall, logs stacked ready in the grate, but I make no move to light them as I sink into the single wooden chair at the kitchen table.
Being here feels like a punishment, one inflicted more on myself than by anyone else, even my wretched aunt.
I want to go home, to be in the places I know, and amongst the people who matter to me.
Right at this moment, dinner is being served at the palace, and if I were still there, I would be finishing up a full day’s work in my office.
Maybe it would be one of the days when my sister-in-law would appear in the doorway, just as I was packing up my bag, and inform me—her smile bright and teasing—that my presence was required at dinner.
Or, if I got off early enough, I might have gone in search of my brother and needled him into a game of squash.
Even if the way I did it was wrong, resigning had felt…
It was right. Even now, with the ache of loneliness and homesickness opening up like a chasm inside me, I still believe that.
In truth, I should never have been in that position to begin with, should never have agreed to take a job protecting the people I love.
You can’t be impartial or make clear, rational decisions when your family’s lives are on the line.
Leaning back in the old wooden chair, I scrub my hands over my face, struggling to get a handle on my own misery. Before I can sink further into the familiar abyss, however, a knock on the cottage’s door has me whipping around.
My first thought is that Freddy has returned, likely bearing some “critical” piece of information he forgot to mention earlier. When I force my weary body into a standing position again and cross to answer, it isn’t an old man in a cowboy hat I find.
I blink, staring in surprise at the young woman on my doorstep, her lips curved in a hesitant smile. She’s bundled up against the chilly evening, wrapped in a thick woolen sweater, and there’s a picnic basket in her hands.
“Hi,” Blair greets me breathlessly, glancing past me into the cottage, before returning her gaze to my face. “I’m so sorry to bother you, I just thought…” She trails off with an embarrassed little laugh, and I stare as she launches into a rambling explanation.
“To be honest, I have no idea where the nearest shops are, and I figured you wouldn’t have had time to get there anyway.
So I packed some things from the house for you.
Nothing fancy, but, you know, edible. I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot this morning, but since we’re going to be neighbors and all.
” Her smile falters, obviously taken off guard by my lack of participation in this conversation.
For fuck’s sake.
It really shouldn’t have surprised me that she has the audacity to show up here, late at night, at the private residence of her family’s employee, bearing a pretty smile and some scavenged food, obviously expecting me to thank her for it.
Under other circumstances, I might have thought this little visit was endearing, but I’m not foolish enough to take her behavior at face value.
I stare at her, my pulse thudding unevenly, as it registers that this is the moment to set the standard for the rest of our relationship.
One which will not—under any circumstances—be a friendly one.
This is a job, and the beautiful young woman who is smiling at me on my doorstep isn’t being kind for the sake of it.
She’s trying to see if she’ll be able to get what she wants from me, and she won’t.
Silence stretches between us.
“Let’s be clear,” I tell her, my voice devoid of any semblance of warmth. “We are not neighbors. I am here to work for your father and make sure you don’t do something monumentally stupid, like flash your tits for half the world to see. The only thing I need from you is your cooperation.”
Something flares behind Blair’s eyes as the hand gripping the basket falls to her side. “Wow. Okay, asshole. I’m just trying to be friendly, but—”
“You aren’t trying to be friendly,” I interject with a cold laugh, relishing the way her expression hardens at the sound. “You’re trying to see how much you can get away with, am I right? Trying to see if I’ll play your games? If you smile pretty enough, I’ll let you do whatever you want?”
Bristling, Blair glares up at me. “It must be nice to be so unbelievably confident that you’ll be a rude little turd face to a stranger, based on nothing but your own preconceived notions.”
“I think the whole flashing your tits for half the world to see incident is fairly convincing evidence my preconceived notions were accurate, princess.”
“Oh, yeah?” She’s seething, and the basket falls to the stoop beside her as she plants both hands on her hips. “What else have you concluded about me? I’d love to know.”
I lean my shoulder against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “What I think or don’t think is none of your concern.”
A flush has risen on Blair’s cheeks as we’ve spoken, and it glows brighter than ever at my refusal. “It is my concern when it’s about me.”
“Me, me, me,” I mock. “It must be very disappointing to find you aren’t entitled to insight into my personal beliefs.”
She lets out a high, disbelieving laugh. “My god, whatever unfortunate object is lodged up your ass must be sideways for you to be acting like such a crap stain.”
“Just to clarify, am I a turd face or a crap stain?”
While obviously incredulous, Blair doesn’t miss a beat. “You are the human equivalent of what would result from putting turnips and olives in a blender.”
I have to hand it to her; the insults are creative.
“Go back to the house, you’re wasting my time,” I drawl, keeping my tone dull, flat, and convincingly bored.
In reality, this is the least depressed I’ve been in months.
I’m baffled how Freddy could have thought this woman wasn’t very bright, when, in less than two minutes of speaking to her, I’ve found her to be quite the opposite.
Which, of course, makes her all the more disappointing.
Blair scoffs, peering over my shoulder into the sparse cottage, undoubtedly spotting the half-eaten protein bar on the kitchen table—my dinner. “Yeah, looks like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” she sneers. “Not literally, of course. Since you’re too good to accept food from me.”
Heaving a sigh, I check my watch. “It’s late. Go on home, princess, we have to be up early.”
“Don’t call me that. And we have to get up early?” she echoes in disbelief, raising her eyebrows. “No, we do not.”
“Actually, we do. Your father has mandated you develop some healthier living habits while you’re here, ones that don’t involve doing drugs or binge drinking.
As I’m skeptical you’re capable of exercising any sort of discipline unless forced, and in the interest of efficiency, you will be joining me on my morning runs. Indefinitely.”
It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but it makes sense. I certainly won’t enjoy starting my day with her, but at least that part of my job description will be over before the sun has fully risen.
Blair obviously doesn’t believe me. She scoffs, stooping to pick up the basket, and straightens up, glaring at me. “I hope you and the sideways object have a lovely evening.” Without another word, she throws her shoulders back and turns on her heel, marching off down the drive.
“See you at six a.m.!” I call after her, and stand in the doorway, watching until the darkness swallows her up, and all I can hear is the rustling of wind through the surrounding trees and the distant crashing of the waves on the bluffs.
Filled with vindictive satisfaction, I go back inside.
Princess Porter will learn in the morning that I’m a man of my word.