He looked up into the rearview mirror and smiled as he pulled the car into gear. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said. “Just a little something to make you more comfortable. And miss, if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Tommy’s given me express instructions to make sure your every desire is taken care of.”
I grinned. “Did he, now.” As I took in my luxurious surroundings, I realized this was a perfect opportunity to try and find out more about the man who’d been such a mystery to me. “So… why do you call him Tommy?” I asked, with no attempt to hide my curiosity. “Everyone else calls him Mr. Stevens – even me.” Except when I’m calling him ‘sir,’ I thought to myself with a blush.
Carl laughed. “Oh, I’ve known Tommy since he was a boy,” he said. “I’ve been driving his family around since before he could talk. I know he’s got a reputation for intimidating people, and believe me, I’ve seen him lose his temper. But when you know someone for as long as I’ve known Tommy, there’s not a whole lot they can say to scare you.” He winked conspiratorially into the mirror, as if what he’d just shared was our little secret.
“So… you knew his family,” I said. Now my interest was really piqued. “What were his parents like?” I leaned forward in my seat, eager to press him for more information.
At this question, Carl’s face lit up. “They were extraordinary,” he began. But as soon as he spoke, his face seemed to fall a bit, like he’d been struck by a painful memory. “But that’s a sad story,” he said, and trailed off, looking out his driver’s side window to the ice-blue sky above. He seemed unsure of whether to say more. His eyes flitted back to me, then he settled them straight ahead on the road. I knew in my gut that if I didn’t press him now, I might never get the answers I wanted.
“Please, Carl,” I implored him. “You can tell me.”
He sighed. “It’s too nice a morning to be talking about the past. But all right, I’ll tell you a little bit. You deserve to know, I suppose.” He heaved his shoulders back as if shrugging off an enormous weight, and began to speak.
“The Stevens family’s been in business for generations, going way back to the nineteenth century. They’ve had their hand in everything: textiles, shipping, financials, you name it. During World War Two they even bought up a few pharmaceutical factories, supplying medicine kits to our boys overseas.” He chuckled. “There was a time in this country when the Stevens name carried as much weight as the Vanderbilts. But all that changed when Tommy’s father got sick.”
He paused for a long moment, reflecting on times gone by. I wanted to urge him to go on, but I sensed it was best to remain silent. I hardly dared to breathe, for fear I’d disrupt the moment. Finally, he continued.
“You see, Tommy’s father – Harvey Stevens, god rest his soul – had a business partner, a friend since childhood. Pete Kearns, his name was. Harvey and Pete, they were inseparable. They did everything together; all the company decisions, they made together. It was always the Stevens name on the company, but Kearns was the behind-the-scenes guy. He had as much to do with operations as anyone else.”
He frowned and scratched his whiskers, like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “But when Tommy’s dad got sick, this guy Kearns made a power grab. He was sneaky about it, too – tried to go behind Stevens’ back and get the other board members to vote him into the president’s seat. What a bunch of snakes they were, all of them. But at the last minute, one of the board members told Tommy’s mother Sandra about the scheme. I remember it like it was yesterday – she jumped into the car and I drove her straight to the Stevens building, and she burst into the boardroom just in time to halt the proceedings. She gave Kearns a piece of her mind that day.” He chuckled a bit at the memory.
“Yeah, she was a firecracker all right. But from then on… things were rough for their family. Harvey died soon after, and Sandra assumed the president’s seat. Mind you, Tommy was only 12 years old when this was going on. She did the best she could, managing the company, but that bastard Kearns tried to undermine her every step of the way. I know it was hard for Tommy to watch, to be too young do anything about it. That’s where he gets his mean streak from, you know.” I nodded, enthralled by the story. I was seeing Mr. Stevens in a new light.
“But wait,” I said. “Why didn’t Sandra just kick that Kearns guy out of the company?”
Carl made a gesture of resignation. “She tried, but it was impossible. The guy had weaseled himself so deep into the records, his name was on every division of the enterprise. And remember, he had half the board members up his sleeve. It was all she could do to keep him from ousting her completely. Can you imagine trying to raise a kid while that’s going on?”
I nodded. It was certainly an interesting story – but it raised as many questions as it answered. I looked down at the business card in my hand, the one Mr. Stevens had given me the day of our first meeting. I ran my fingers over its embossed lettering: HENRICKSON & STEVENS, LLC. “So then, where’s Kearns now? And who is this Henrickson guy?” I asked.
The driver’s eyes flashed up at me again, with surprise this time, and what I thought might have been a hint of unease. “You’re asking all the right questions,” he said finally. “But unfortunately I don’t know if I’ll have time to answer them all right now. We’re almost there.”
Suddenly I snapped back to reality, and noticed the unfamiliar surroundings. “Wait a minute,” I said, looking out the window to see the Manhattan skyline fading away in the distance. “I thought we were going to the Stevens building, downtown.”
“Not today,” replied Carl. “Boss’s orders. He’s working from home, and we’re supposed to head directly to his house. He said he’s got plans for you.”
Plans? A flash of fear went through me, unwarranted. I didn’t know why, but I was suddenly getting cold feet for some reason. “Carl, I don’t know about this,” I said. “Can’t we just turn around?”
He looked at me quizzically in the rearview. He seemed confused by my sudden trepidation. “But miss,” he said slowly, “it’s like I told you. We’re already here.”
***
I looked out the window again – sure enough, we were pulling off the main road into the trees, past a large sign that said Stevens Manor. I was close to panicking now. Meeting him in the Stevens Building was one thing: it was in Manhattan, and I’d worked there for years. It was still within my comfort zone. But here, in some secluded mansion out in the woods? Anything could happen to me. It wasn’t safe.
And yet, as foreboding as the setting seemed, I was undeniably curious to see what lay in store me there. It was that same thrilling sense of danger that had drawn me to Mr. Stevens in the first place. From our very first conversation, there had been a vaguely threatening undertone lurking in his words, his demeanor and his voice. I couldn’t help but find it strangely alluring, just as seductive as it was frightening.
But this might be too much. What was I getting myself into?
As we continued down the shady path among the trees, a large mansion came into view off in the distance. I gasped when I saw it. It was truly magnificent: absolutely huge, with neo-Gothic columns and white stone arches buttressing an enormous anterior chamber. It looked like a palace, like something out of a fairy tale.
“Welcome to Stevens Manor,” said Carl, as we pulled into a long gravel driveway under a wrought-iron gate.
As we pulled up to the main entrance, the front door swung open. Mr. Stevens stepped out of the building, dressed in a gray tweed blazer and matching slacks. He showed none of the anger he’d displayed earlier on the phone; on the contrary, he looked to be in a great mood for once. His dark hair fell in curls around his face, and I could see just a hint of stubble on his cheeks, offsetting his neatly trimmed goatee. I’d forgotten how handsome he was.
Suddenly, all my fear completely dissipated, chased away by that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling I had every time I saw him. I felt myself smiling – grinning like an idiot is more like it, I tho
ught to myself. When we locked eyes, it was like an electric spark passed between us. Nothing else mattered. All I wanted was to jump into his arms and attack him with kisses. But I couldn’t do that just yet.
He tore his eyes away from mine and fixed them on Carl’s. His face darkened in a scowl. Without breaking stride, he swung open the driver’s door before we’d even come to a full stop.
“You’re late,” he said to Carl. “What happened?”
“Sorry, boss,” said Carl sheepishly. “Her doorbell was busted. Nothing I could do about it.”
Mr. Stevens glanced at me for a split-second, but then shot his eyes immediately back to Carl’s whiskered face. “Nothing you could do?” he seethed, in a voice that seemed to hold more anger in it than if it had been a scream of rage.
But for the moment, at least, he kept his temper.
“No matter,” he said. “I’ve more important things to take care of than scolding you for a job done improperly.” He waved his hand dismissively. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”
“Yes, sir,” Carl replied, nodding in deference.
Mr. Stevens turned again to face me, his eyes narrowing into enigmatic slits. Again I had the distinct, unsettling impression that he could read my thoughts. I hoped he could, actually; at the moment, I was thinking about tearing his clothes off and putting my hands on his naked body. I stared back at him, alluringly pursing my lips a bit. But if he’d picked up on my flirtatious vibes, he wasn’t showing it on his face.
“Get inside,” he commanded me, a stern look on his face. “We have some unfinished business to attend to.” When he said that, he flashed the slightest hint of a half-smile.
His words made me blush. You don’t need to tell me twice, I thought to myself. I smiled back at him coyly. “Certainly, sir,” I replied, and stepped lightly into the foyer.
Chapter 3: Stevens Manor
Crossing the threshold of his doorway was like stepping into another world. It seemed a universe apart from the hustle and bustle of downtown Manhattan. This was a castle, tucked away into the woods, hearkening back the old stories of brave knights, fair maidens and mystical wizardry. My eyes didn’t know what to take in first: the exquisite tapestries lining the walls, the dazzling chandelier above my head, or the ornate wrought-iron sconces lining the walls. I couldn’t help but suck in my breath as I traversed the long stone entryway. I was totally overwhelmed by it.
“This place is… beautiful,” I said, turning to Mr. Stevens. He chuckled, stepping closer to me and taking my arms in his hands.
“Fit for a queen, is it?” he teased. “I thought you might like it. My apologies for the change of scenery today; a pressing matter came to my attention this morning, and I was needed here at the manor.” He began walking down the hallway, leading me by the hand. “Contrary to what you might think, this place was only built in 1900. It was the style at the time – neo-Gothic, Renaissance revival, call it what you will. I call it a bunch of rich old men playing make-believe. But no matter.” We arrived at a tall wooden doorway, and Mr. Stevens pushed it open. “This will be your bedroom.”
I’d been wowed by the splendorous hallway, but the bedroom was even more magnificent. It literally took my breath away – I gasped as I took in the size, the depth and splendor of the room. In contrast to the hallway, this room was outfitted in varnished wood and bright glasswork. Tall, open windows let in a cool breeze, causing the floor-length gossamer drapes to flutter gently and cast dancing shadows on the parquet floor. The four-poster bed had a luxurious red satin canopy with gold trim, and all the room’s furniture looked like something out of a museum. In a far corner of the room I spied the entrance to a marble bathroom, bright lights reflecting off its polished surfaces. I turned to Mr. Stevens, speechless, with an awestruck light in my eyes.
He chuckled. “It appears the room meets your standards.” He looked down at his watch and frowned before looking back at me. “Unfortunately, I’ve got something to take care of just now. Why don’t you get yourself acquainted with your new surroundings, and make yourself comfortable. Feel free to shower. Your closet’s been stocked, so you can find a change of clothes.” He paused to reflect for a moment. “Come to my office in one hour’s time; I’ll be ready for you then. There’s a bell on the bedside table. When you’re ready, just ring it, and someone will come to direct you to my chamber.”
This was all quite a lot to take in at once. “Um, sure,” I said haltingly. “Sounds great.”
“Wonderful,” he replied, and turned to go. Suddenly, he paused. “There’s just one last thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked, but before I could even finish the question, his lips had come crashing into my own in a passionate kiss. It took me by surprise, but I eagerly reciprocated as soon as I felt his lips on mine. I’d been craving the taste of him since the moment we’d last been together. The kiss was brief, just a fleeting moment. But the effect of it lingered. As he pulled gently away from me, I stared after him in stunned pleasure, my eyes wide open and my lips still buzzing from his contact. Without another word, he slipped out deftly through the door and closed it behind him.
Holy crap, I thought to myself, putting my hand to my lips as soon as he was gone. I couldn’t believe his touch had so much power over me. Despite the luxurious surroundings, all I’d just learned about his past, all the hustle of the morning… all that had disappeared, in an instant, as soon as our lips had touched. If just one kiss had that effect on me, how did I expect to keep my head on my shoulders when things inevitably heated up later between us? I didn’t know, and to be honest I didn’t care. All I cared about at that moment was how long it would be before I could kiss him again.
Sighing with anticipation, I dropped my handbag onto the bed and made my way to the bathroom. I had some time to kill, so I figured I might as well get cleaned up a bit. Hanging next to the bathroom door I found a plush-looking lavender terry cloth robe, with matching slippers resting on the floor below. I slipped on the robe, savoring the pleasurable feeling of its finely combed cotton on my skin.
I entered the bathroom and turned on the hot water, running my hand along the ornate porcelain faucet handles. I looked around, admiring the gleaming white porcelain of the tub and sink. Above the sink was a large full-length mirror, with vanity lighting running around its perimeter. I caught a glimpse of my reflection and noted, with pleasant surprise, that I looked somehow a little more radiant this morning: my cheeks flushed and pink, my eyes bright. I’m not sure if it was the excitement I was feeling, or just a reflected effect of the gorgeous elegance surrounding me. But whatever it was, I liked it. I was used to seeing myself in a grease-stained coffee shop apron, bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived. This was a different look entirely – I felt like my inner goddess was finally getting a chance to shine. As the room filled up with fog, I stared deep into the mirror, gazing trance-like at my own reflection until it faded completely into the gathering mist. A girl could get used to this, I thought to myself.
***
After a long and indulgent shower, I stepped out of the bathroom feeling like a million bucks. I’d sampled an array of exquisitely scented bath oils, and my skin and hair felt like they were singing with joy. Rummaging through the bathroom cabinet, I found a hair dryer and plugged it in near the window. I sat on the windowsill while drying my hair, and stared out at the expansive gardens below my room. It was a beautiful day. This really is the royal treatment, I thought to myself. If only Katarina could see me now.
My hair dry, I ambled over to the closet and pulled open the folding doors. The closet wasn’t large, but it contained about a dozen outfits on hangers and a few drawers. I pulled open the top drawer, expecting to find some sweaters or something, but gasped when I saw that it was filled with sexy lingerie. I gingerly picked up a lacy black bustier, almost as if I were afraid to touch it. Wow. I’d bought lingerie before, sure, but these brought a whole new meaning to the word “risqué.” The piece I was holding had thin straps at the bo
ttom, and I realized it was meant to attach to stockings. I kept rummaging: sure enough, in the second drawer I found stockings of every length, style and color imaginable. I took a deep breath and pulled on the bustier, squeezing in through its tight elastic openings. It fit like a charm. I looked down at my chest admiringly – the cups on this thing worked wonders, as it turned out. I tore open the package of a pair of midnight-blue thigh-high stockings, with a racy pattern that resembled roses and thorns. I slid into them and attached the snaps to the bustier. As it snapped into place, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror across the room.
“Oh, my Lord,” I blurted out. I’d never seen myself looking so… sexy. I giggled and did a little twirl in place.
Turning back to the closet, I browsed through the selection of hangers as if I were window-shopping, and eventually decided on an elegant, sleeveless royal blue dress. I slipped it on and stepped over to the mirror, twisting and turning to make sure it fit. The naughty bustier was completely invisible underneath the dress, but my stockings were just sexy enough to kindle a man’s imagination. The only thing left now was the shoes – and the closet had ample pairs to choose from. I shook my head, smiling, as I saw that nearly all the shoes in the closet were designer heels of some sort. There were no sneakers to be found. “Well, I guess he knows what he likes,” I said to myself. “If it’s heels he wants me in, then…” I grabbed an especially racy-looking pair of black Jimmy Choos, with a three-inch heel. It would be a little hard to walk in these over the stone floor of the hallway, but hopefully I wouldn’t have far to go in them.
Serving Mr. Stevens, Part Two: Lover's Complaint -- An Erotic Romance (Part 2 of 5) Page 2