Everything You Are (6 page)

The couple nodded in greeting.

“While the old nag here...” Ian slightly turned her toward the older lady that stood by the kitchen island.

The lady grimaced in fake displeasure and lifted her finger in warning. “What did you say?”

Jane glanced up at Ian, wondering if it would look weird if she shoved his hand off.

Ian grinned. “This lovely woman is Beth, the best cook in the world.”

“That's better.” Beth smiled.

Ian's fingers tightened their grip and he pushed her forward before he released her. “And this is Jane, my assistant.”

“Hello, Jane. Sit, please.” Beth indicated the chair beside Mark.

Jane obeyed and occupied the seat.

“She's very pushy, Beth, but pushy in a good way,” Mark whispered, then loudly said, “You have to try this pudding.” He pushed the plate toward her. “It's one of the best things I have ever eaten.”

She fixed her gaze at the bread soaked in yellow cream, dotted with raisins, while her entire focus was on the man behind her, who was requesting a plate of pudding for himself. Why would he try to kiss her?

Mark moved closer. “Is everything okay?”

“This looks good,” she said.

“Here.” Ian set a plate before her, and another plate with pudding on the table nearby before he slid into the chair to Jane’s right.

She took the fork that was plunged into the pudding and took a bite. The taste of rum-soaked raisins and vanilla sauce filled her mouth. “This is really good,” she said to Beth, who sat down on the bench beside the couple.

Beth smiled.

Jane devoted herself to eating, trying to ignore the presence of the blond on the chair beside her.

Mark, who could never be silent for long, started to chat about the weather and his impressions about the picnic and estate, with Beth and Ian being his main interlocutors, while Isabella only said a word here and there.

After a while, when Jane had eaten a third of her pudding, Isabella excused herself.

“I have some obligations that need to be taken care of,” she said to them before she rose and went around the table and toward the door, Andrew right behind her.

After the door closed behind them, Mark, whose chair was touching Jane's, shifted even closer. “I read he was her bodyguard,” he said in a low voice.

“He's still her bodyguard,” Ian said loudly. “But he's also the chief of Thornton's security department.”

Mark bent forward and twisted his body sideways so that he was facing Ian. “They eloped, right?”

“Mark!” Jane frowned at him. “Stop being so nosy.”

Mark ignored her. “It's true, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is, but not because my parents had anything against their relationship,” Ian said.

“Oh.” Mark looked disappointed. “So, does that mean that if you fall in love with a totally unsuitable girl, they wouldn't try to stop you?”

“No.”

“Even if she was a maid?”

“No, my parents would never try to prevent me from being with somebody because of their work.”

“What about a hooker?”

“No, not if she made me happy.” Ian smiled.

“Where's this coming from?” Jane asked.

“From Pretty Woman.”

Jane giggled. “Oh, Mark.”

“What?” Mark scowled at her while the corners of his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile.

“Luckily, times change and it's different now,” Beth said.

They all turned to the older lady.

“When I was young, things were different,” Beth said. “The help getting involved with the employers never ended well.”

“Don't tell me my father had something with one of the maids when he was younger?” Ian leaned closer to the old lady, grinning.

“Well...”

“No, not my father.” Ian's eyes widened.

“No, not your father. I think.”

“But...” Ian asked.

Beth took a sip of tea.

“You started it,” Ian said. “Now you have to tell me.”

Beth set the cup down. “It's nothing to tell, really.”

“Then why did you mention it?” Ian asked.

“I didn't say anything.”

“Yes you did, and since you know you could never resist my charm, why don't you save yourself the trouble and just tell me now?”

Sighing, Beth shook her head.

“Well...” Ian said.

“There was this young girl, Linda.”

“Yes?” Ian prompted her.

“She was a young, cute little thing. She was a maid, but she wanted to become a cook like me, so in my free time I taught her how to cook. I don't know the details, but after a few weeks she started to skip our lessons and when I asked her why, she told me that she had been spending her time with your father. I didn't believe her, since your father was already engaged to your mother at the time, and your father, even at nineteen, wasn't reckless, or the kind of guy who would use an innocent girl.”

“No, my father is not somebody who would use people.” Ian frowned. “Were they together, Father and her?”

“I don't know. I don't think so, but I could see that she was in love with your father, and she was so certain that he loved her too. Even if what she told me was true, knowing your grandparents -- may they rest in peace -- I knew they would never allow anything that would destroy the union between the Thorntons and the Cromwells, so I tried to reason with her, but she refused to listen and cut all contacts with me.”

“That's sad.” Mark reclined back in the chair.

“What happened to her?” Ian asked.

“She left a few months later, and I never heard of her again,” Beth said. “I looked for her, but...”

Jane noticed a shadow lingering by the door and glanced at it. An older woman with red-streaked hair smoothed into a bun stood by the door, glowering at them. Who was that?

“Martha, here you are.” Ian turned sideways. “This is Martha, our housekeeper,” he said to Jane. “Martha, this is Jane, my new assistant.”

“Nice to meet you,” Martha said with a blank expression on her face. She didn't even try to smile. “I'll make a fresh pot of tea.” She slowly turned around and walked to the sink.

Mark and Jane exchanged glances.

“Don't mind Martha,” Beth said in a low voice. “She's always like that, that's why we don't get along so well.”

“That's just the way she is.” Ian resumed his eating.

Jane followed his example and then after they ate, they returned to the yard. Five minutes after, Ian was surrounded by people and dragged away. She watched him until the crowd veiled the sight of him.

Mark jabbed her.

She looked at him.

“He's very nice.”

“Yes, he is.”

“And really hot, even when a ball smacks him in the face.”

Yeah.
“I suppose.”

“You're really lucky to work for him.”

“Am I?” Sometimes she thought that too. It wasn't hard work, being his assistant. It was much easier than she had thought it would be, but there was this pull of attraction. She knew very well that she had no chance with him; not that she wanted to have a chance with him, not when he was such a womaniser, She tried to ignore the attraction, but it was there, staring in her face, taunting her, laughing at her.

“Yeah, you have so many opportunities to seduce him, you lucky girl,” Mark said. “I mean, you heard him, right? If his parents wouldn't mind a hooker, then I'm sure they wouldn't mind an assistant and a college drop-out, either.”

“You want to marry me off, huh? You must really like him.” She smiled and ran her fingers through Mark's brown hair.

“Yeah. Wouldn't it be great if you two dated and I could hang out with you, my best friend and her sexy boyfriend -- I mean, your rich boyfriend? I bet I would meet a whole bunch of interesting people hanging out with him. Maybe even my future partner, somebody rich and hot like your boss.”

She chuckled. “Yes, that would be great, but for that, I would have to be blond and have big boobs.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and leaned on him.

“Well, that's that.”

“Yeah.” But then, why had he almost kissed her, a flat-chested brunette?

“I don't know why you're bothering me with that,” Ian said into the phone he held between his ear and his shoulder, while he lifted his nose to sniff the air. There was a smell coming from somewhere in kitchen and he had been trying to pinpoint it for the last two days. It wasn't coming from the bags of trash that he had stacked in the kitchen corner by the refrigerator.

“Father might listen to you,” Izzy said.

He sighed, his hand going over the grey and black granite counter that divided the sleek black kitchen from the living room. “As if Father ever listens to me. Haven't you heard, he hired an assistant for me without letting me have any say in the matter.”

“Father listens to you when it’s business-related. We all know there are three things you are serious about: work, working out, and meat.”

Ian sighed. “I agree with him, Izzy. Andrew's expertise is wasted as your bodyguard. He should become the chief of security full-time.”

“But he can continue to work for the company and for me, like he always has.”

“How much attention do you think he's able to give to the company's security, when he has to be by your side all the time? Or how much stress and strain is he under because of trying to do both jobs at the same time? Haven't you noticed how tired he looks lately?”

“That's why Father should fire him.”

“Or he could just quit.”

“As if he would ever do that.”

Ian shoved aside the groceries piled up on the window seat and sat on the dark wood. “Do you really want for him to waste his potential by staying your bodyguard forever?”

“He likes to be by my side.”

“He loves you, of course he does. But Izzy, we men are proud creatures, we want to excel at what we do and prove ourselves.” He sighed again. “Do you think Andrew went to all that tactical training just to be your bodyguard forever?”

“Yes.”

“Then why doesn't he quit so you can hire him?”

There was silence on the other side.

“You are intelligent, Izzy, your IQ is so much higher than mine, but where Andrew is considered you're being stupid and selfish. Do you really want him to waste his life just so you can have him by your side twenty-four seven?”

“How would you feel if I stole your new assistant from you?”

“What does she have to do with anything?”

“Don't think I haven't noticed how you look at her and how you act around her.”

She had noticed? Of course she had noticed. “How do I look at her?”

“Like she's your next meal.”

“I always look at girls that way.”

“No, you don't, not even your usual girls. The last time you looked at a girl like that was when you were still in high school.”

High school, that was not a period of his life that he remembered with fondness. “Jane's a nice, competent girl.”

“Who you would like to bed.”

“I wouldn't have anything against it.” He imagined her in that pink nightshirt. How he would love to glide his fingers up her thigh and push the fabric up to expose the curve of her hip. A fruit fly flew past him and then another one and when he turned around, he saw more of them. Where were they coming from? “Though I think Father would mind.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“I try.” He bent over a pile of pamphlets, crushed bags and various knick-knacks and waved his hand over it.

A swarm of fruit flies rose up.

He really needed to get a new cleaning lady before he ended up buried in garbage and insects. “Izzy, talk to Andrew. Trying to prevent Father from offering him full-time employment and trying to get him fired doesn't become you. Andrew deserves better.”

Izzy sighed.

“You know that I'm right.”

“That would be a first.”

Ian smiled. “It's bound to happen eventually.”

She sighed again. “Fine, I'll talk to him.”

“That's a good girl.”

She groaned. “Don't call me that.”

“But you are,” he said and then, before she could object, he said goodbye to her. Holding the phone in his hand he leaned backward against the side of the counter, scowling at the fruit flies. He really should do something about that. He glanced at the phone. There was somebody he could turn to. In his address book he searched for a number and then pressed 'dial.' The line connected.

“Yes?”

“Hey, Jane. Ian here. Are you busy?”

“I thought I was free on weekends.”

“You are.”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Is that any way to talk to your boss? You have become so brazen in these last few days.”

She didn't reply and in the silence he could actually feel her confusion.

“Jane, I like you being brazen.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“To tease you,” he said. “Now, I'm calling you because I have a little problem and I hope you will be able to help me solve it.”

“What kind of problem?”

“With fruit flies.”

“This is why you’re calling me?”

“I don't know how to get rid of them.”

A tired sigh travelled over the line carrying an exasperated undertone. “Can the flies wait until tomorrow?”

“I can treat you to lunch.”

“You can treat me to lunch on Monday.”

Ian heard Mark in the background. For some unimaginable reason Jane's flat-mate liked him and welcomed his company with such enthusiasm. He could take advantage of that. “Jane, why don't you put Mark on the phone?”

“No.”

“Jane, put Mark on the phone, now, please.” He used his no-nonsense voice, the one he regularly employed in boardroom meetings.

Another sigh and a rustle before Mark's youthful and energetic voice travelled over the line. “Hey. What's up?”

“Would you and Jane like to visit me?”

“We would love to come over. Right now?”

“Mark!”

“Just a moment,” Mark said. He had to have covered the phone's microphone, because all that Ian could hear were muted incomprehensible sounds. A few moments passed before Mark spoke into the phone again, “Ian, we would love to come by. Just tell me when and where.”

Ian told him and two hours later they crossed the threshold of his apartment, Jane with a long-suffering expression on her face. He smiled at her, but all he got in return was a glare.

“Where are the flies?” She glowered at him, not giving her surroundings a second glance, while Mark stepped to the end of the wall that marked the end of the foyer which opened into a spacious living room in black and white.

“In the kitchen.” Ian could have opened the door on his left that led into the kitchen, but instead he guided them around the wall that divided the kitchen from the foyer. He pointed at the window seat in the kitchen. “Here.”

“You have such a large space, just the living room is bigger than my whole apartment,” Mark commented. “And it’s so stylish.”

“And in need of cleaning.” Jane went around the counter.

Ian glanced over the living room where clothes were strewn over the L-shaped sectional, on the counter and on the pool table at the back. It wasn't that bad. “Do you want a tour?” he asked Mark.

“Yes, please.”

“Jane, are you coming?”

“No, you boys go have fun,” Jane said in sickeningly sweet voice.

Ian raised his eyebrows. “Are you certain?”

“Leave her, she's just cranky,” Mark said.

“You would be too.” Jane scowled at the brunet, before she fixed her glare on Ian. “Start to clean up after yourself and you won't have problems with flies.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or with the smell. How could you allow it to get so rotten that it smells?”

“It happens.”

“You don't say.” Jane gave him a hard look.

“What can I say? I'm a bad boy.” Ian grinned. “Do you want to spank me?”

Jane's sigh was accompanied by a roll of her eyes.

Mark chuckled.

“Come, let me give you a tour around the bachelor den.” Ian set his hand on Mark's shoulder as he passed him. They crossed the living room and went around the wall to the opened hallway. Behind the first of five doors was his office, behind the second, a room that had been the master bedroom but was now a gym. He spent quite a few hours in there, most of the time on the rowing machine, jogging on the treadmill or lifting weights, while he rarely used the elliptical trainer and indoor bike. A big bathroom with a sauna connected the gym with his bedroom, a spacious room with a king-size bed, a telly enclosed in an entertainment centre and a walk-in closet. The next two doors led into guest rooms. He also showed Mark the storage room and the terrace with a hot tub. Since the gym was equipped with the newest machines, had tellies hung on the wall and a small bar with energy drinks in one corner, he thought that it would impress the brunet, but the room Mark liked the best was his closet.

“He has Doc Martens, a whole row of them,” Mark’s excited voice told Jane at the end of the tour. “A whole row of them.” When he faced Ian again, his eyes shone. “I love Doc Martens.”

Yes, Ian had noticed Mark staring at his boots like a love-struck boy. He had asked to pick one up and when Ian granted him permission, he stroked it like a cat.

“Can I see them?” Jane asked.

So Jane liked them too. Ian made a mental note of Doc Martens boots being an appropriate gift for Jane. “Yes, of course, it’s the second door on right, in the closet behind the wall.”

“I'll show you.” Mark grabbed Jane's hand and started to drag her across the living room.

“In the meantime, you take the trash out.” Jane pointed at the bags in the corner of the kitchen, where the counter ended.

“I don't know where the bin is.”

“You are a big bad boy, I'm sure you will be able to find it,” Jane said. She and Mark were already at his bedroom door, and then they were gone.

Ian narrowed his eyes at the open door of his bedroom. He could hear muted voices coming from it. He could have joined them, but that would probably have earned him more of Jane’s scowls. That girl furrowed her forehead far too much, and she aimed far too many glares in his direction. From the wallet he kept in a drawer in the foyer he took a hundred bill, grabbed the four large bags, went out of the apartment and took the lift into the building's lobby.

“How are you today, Mr. Thornton?” the porter greeted him.

“Hello…” What was his name? Ian glanced at the tag. “Max.” He put a wide smile on his face. “I have a favour to ask.” He shoved the bags toward the man, the money peeking from between his fingers. There was nothing money couldn’t solve. “If you would take care of these bags for me.”

The porter eyed the bill before he took the bags and the money, giving Ian a pleasant smile in return. “Of course, sir.”

“Thank you.” Ian returned to the apartment, where Jane and Mark waited for him, leaning on the kitchen counter.

“Your phone was ringing,” Jane told him.

He picked up the phone. The missed call was from Richardson, and Richardson never called him at the weekend. He was about to call back, when he got a text.

The Gambini have refused to prolong the contract as it is. They demand 25 percent more per unit. The arrangements are already made for you and Mrs. Bennet to leave for Italy tomorrow at five in the morning. I’ll send additional information to your email
, it wrote.

“That guy never rests.” Ian shook his head before he fixed his gaze at Jane. “I hope you’re a morning person.”

“Huh?”

“I just found out, tomorrow at five, we’re leaving for Italy.”