Loving Ruby: The Riverstone Series Book 2 - Standalone

by Roya Carmen

  “Anything you’d like me to do, I’m up for,” she purrs. “I’m very eager to learn, Mr. Hyde.”

  Lovely… She’s not exactly subtle. I’m sure most men in my position would take her up on her offer and hire her on the spot. Most men are pigs.

  Justin is no better. He too was perfect on paper. He wears a blue shirt, open at the collar, and slim pants hemmed a smidge too short. I conclude his attire to be the “style” of the youth. He’s a good-looking young man, and he strikes me as extremely mellow – almost too mellow.

  “Cool… bird…,” he offers as he takes a seat across me.

  “Cool… bird…” Miko parrots in the same languid tone.

  As I ask him a few basic questions, he answers them effectively enough, but his words are sluggish and his gaze is hazy. It finally hits me – the boy is stoned.

  Fuck this. What in the heavens is wrong with this generation?

  The interview is brief.

  The next candidate has to be… I’m not sure. Anything but a fucking disaster.

  I peruse Ruby Riverstone’s résumé again – the woman across the street. She’s my favourite by a long shot. I don’t care if she has three heads as long as her voice is not unbearably annoying and she isn’t under the influence of drugs or alcohol.

  Possibly for the first time in my life, I think I may need to lower my standards.

  Ruby

  Well, at least I look good, I tell myself as I hop into my Toyota Echo. As I drive slowly down the long winding drive, I’m glad I have on winter tires because even the short trek from Riverstone to the Hyde estate is a little slippery.

  As I near the Hyde estate, I’m in awe. This mansion is magnificent, a modern-day castle with dark grey stone, Tudor-inspired details, and Gothic stained-glass windows. There’s even a pointed turret on one end. The house is covered with a light layer of snow, which only makes it more splendid and magical. The sky is dark and ominous, making the home seem even more imposing. It truly seems larger than life.

  My heartbeat quickens as I’m brought back to my childhood and our terror-filled escapades here on Halloween night. As kids, we were always afraid of this spooky mansion. The boys were the only ones who dared to venture onto the property. Amber and I would only brave it on Halloween because Mrs. Kimble always handed out little baggies of treats that included full-sized chocolate bars. So with thumping hearts, we made the long trek to the big spooky house, scared out of our wits.

  I’m freezing as I bang the antique knocker against the huge imposing door. Then I notice the modern doorbell. I press it, cursing the cold. My heart is pounding. My arms and hands are shaking so much I can barely hold on to my briefcase. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m cold, nervous, or scared. Probably all of the above. I know Amber is crazy, but part of me really is a bit uncomfortable. I’ve heard so many rumours about this reclusive man.

  Relief washes over me when a small, cheerful middle-aged woman greets me. I won’t be alone in this creepy house with this strange man.

  “Hello, I’m Millie,” she says. “You must be Ruby. Come in.”

  I instantly feel at ease around her. She seems so sweet. She reminds me of Betty White, and I’m brought back to the days of watching reruns of Golden Girls with my mother and Amber.

  As soon as I enter, I take in the beauty of the space. Marble floors, high-beamed ceilings, straight lines, gorgeous dark woods – an Arts and Crafts dream. I gaze up to see the largest, most stunning chandelier I have ever set my eyes on. All wrought iron, it fits in perfectly with the Art Deco Goth feel of the house.

  “This place is amazing!”

  She laughs. “Yep, that’s usually the reaction we get.”

  I’m still staring at the ceiling when she kindly asks me to take off my wet boots. I oblige quickly and show her the shoes I’ve brought along for the interview – classic black Mary Janes with a chunky heel.

  “Can I wear these?” I ask. “The outfit just isn’t the same without the shoes.”

  She smiles as she nods, and I imagine that despite the white sneakers she has on, she probably wore a lot of heels in her youth.

  She leads me to an old antique bench by the entrance. “You can sit here while you wait. Mr. Hyde will be available very soon.”

  As I take a seat, I’m still struck by the beauty of the place. Amongst the dark wood, striking architecture, and craftsmanship are the most colourful paintings I’ve ever seen. They’re oil on canvas and mostly scenes of Canadian landscape. They remind me very much of the Group of Seven, but the style is a little more precise and a bit softer.

  The house is quiet, but I hear voices in the background and… strange little noises. I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me. I tap my foot on the marble floor, nervous. Click. Click. Click.

  Millie rounds the corner, wearing a wide smile. “Mr. Hyde can see you now.”

  My breath catches. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.

  But I follow her to what I assume are the offices. As we make our way there, I take in everything: stunning marble floors, intricate mouldings, art, and the classic Art Deco furnishings. When we turn a corner, I finally see the stunning office. I jolt to a stop, taken aback. The space is wide open and dark. The light reflected through the striking stained-glass windows gives the room a magical church-like feel.

  Fire burns in the massive wood-burning fireplace. A dark leather sofa beckons. Across from it are two overstuffed wing chairs and a coffee table. A large photography book sits on the table. As I follow Millie into the room, I stare at the ceiling, still mesmerized – large dark beams and another massive wrought-iron light fixture. I had heard about this estate, but to see it in the flesh is amazing.

  I’m so taken with the room, I don’t even register the person in it. The first thing I see when I turn my gaze to the office is the black bird cage tucked to the side – it’s massive. A grey parrot is perched comfortably at its centre. I’m so taken by the bird I completely fail to notice the man next to it.

  “Mrs. Riverstone,” he says.

  I turn to him, and I lose my breath in a swift second. I’ve heard many things these past two years about the infamous reclusive Mr. Hyde. Ever since he took ownership of the Kimble estate, he’s all the locals have been gossiping about. Everyone knows he’s extremely reclusive, and stories about him abound. Some have even speculated that he may be a vampire. It would explain why he’s never seen outside.

  When Amber’s fiancé Aiden first worked on the renovation of his home, I tried to dig for some juicy gossip of my own – something scandalous to sink my fingers into. I’m no better than anyone else. Unfortunately, all I got was that he was a strange, exacting man who demanded nothing but perfection. I got the sense that Aiden wasn’t a big fan.

  But the worst rumour of all is that he’s a widow and on house arrest for the suspected murder of his late wife.

  Fuck…

  Despite all the speculation and gossip, one thing was never mentioned…

  This strange reclusive man is breathtakingly beautiful.

  My heart is beating against my rib cage like a prisoner desperately seeking escape. As he makes his way to me, my mind whirls, not quite knowing how to process this scene.

  My mouth goes dry as I attempt to utter something intelligible. “Uh, hello, I’m Ruby.” It’s not original, but I’m glad I haven’t lost the ability to speak.

  His posture is stiff when he shoots me a tight smile and offers his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Riverstone,” he says curtly. “Or is it Miss Riverstone?”

  I give him my best firm handshake “It’s miss, but please call me Ruby.” I remind myself that this is just another interview – no big deal. But it is. And I know it is. I want this job. I will act professional. I will not be distracted by those eyes – the most amazing shade of blue. “I’m so happy to be here, Mr. Hyde.”

  He cocks a brow, his mouth a hard line as he gestures to the chair right across his desk. “Please take a seat, Miss Riverstone.�
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  I slowly perch my bottom on the smooth leather chair. “Um, sure. Yes…” I feel a little overdressed as I study his gorgeous blue turtleneck and dark wash jeans. Oh well… it is an interview. It’s always better to be overdressed than underdressed.

  “This is Miko,” he tells me, gesturing to the bird cage. “Say hello, Miko.”

  “Hello, Miko,” Miko says in his little-old-man voice.

  I smile at the bird. “Hello.”

  “Can I offer you something to drink, Miss Riverstone? A coffee or tea perhaps?”

  I shake my head. I need to focus on not making an idiot of myself. I can’t handle drinking a beverage on top of that. Knowing me, I’d likely spill coffee on myself – and my mother’s vintage Chanel – and proceed to scream and jump off my seat like an idiot. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”

  He gestures to a plate of assorted cheeses on his desk.

  I shake my head again. “It looks good, but no, thank you.”

  So far, so good. Mr. Hyde appears pretty ordinary, exceptional beauty notwithstanding. Although a bit stern, he does not strike me as a man who is imagining what my head would look like on a stick. I’m no longer concerned with being chopped into pieces.

  His place is dark and moody, and he has a bird he talks to, which is a little strange. But beyond that, he seems relatively well-adjusted. His desk is orderly but not freakily orderly. He’s casually dressed and wears a classic Rolex. There are various photos on the expansive bookshelves behind him – pictures I can’t quite make out. I want to see those closer up…

  Focus.

  As soon as his eyes fall on me, I turn my gaze to the bird cage. I wonder what in the heavens has gotten into me. I’m not one of those self-conscious, demure women who can’t maintain eye contact with an attractive man. I have no clue where feisty Ruby has gone. She has abandoned me and left me hanging dry.

  “Beautiful bird.” I finally turn to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one quite like it.”

  He lights up for a moment. “Thank you. He’s a Congo African grey parrot. They’re highly intelligent and sociable, and Miko here is no different. He and I have grown quite fond each other.”

  I smile, my gaze glued again to the amazing bird that’s almost as striking as his owner. With his scalloped grey collar and striking ruby tail, he is magnificent. He is perched straight and looks slightly defiant and intrigued, almost as if he’s thinking, “Who is this strange woman watching me, and what is her business here?” He bobs his head and makes loud clicking noises.

  “He looks like he’s wearing a suit of armour.” I turn to Mr. Hyde. “He’s quite the valiant little knight.”

  A slow smile stretches across his face. He scratches his chin as he studies his bird. “Yes, very much so. That is an astute observation, Miss Riverstone. You see with imagination. Such are the eyes of the artist.”

  Again, I’m at a loss for breath. I hate having to consciously breathe – breathing should not be this damn hard. “Thank you.” I fidget with the sleeves of my Chanel suit. I want this interview to be done before it has even begun. I want Amber here to hold my hand. I’m out of my element with him. “You can call me Ruby.”

  He hands me a sheet. I scan it quickly and nod as I do. It’s a job description with an extensive bullet point list of expected duties, but it’s pretty much the same list given in the job description online.

  “I had a chance to quickly look at your online portfolio, Miss Riverstone. Very impressive.”

  I nod and stare at my hands as I toy with the hem of my skirt, my pink nails dancing. I don’t understand why I’m so nervous. This isn’t like me at all. Time to shape the hell up.

  The man has given me a compliment, and I’m damn well going to accept it. “Yes, thank you. As you probably noticed, I studied at the Ontario College of Arts, and I also completed my Masters of Design there.”

  He nods. “I hear it’s quite a competitive school. Only the best of the best.”

  “Damn right,” I say with a smirk. Amber would be proud. She always tells me I don’t have enough self-confidence.

  A hint of a smile stretches across his face. “I have a lot of promos and social media graphics… that kind of thing. I have a lovely lady who helps with that, but perhaps you could take over those duties.”

  “I would love that,” I practically squeal.

  “I would love that,” Miko echoes in exactly the same tone.

  I jump, startled.

  Mr. Hyde laughs. “Don’t mind Miko. He’s pretty vocal.”

  Suddenly remembering our phone conversation, I ask, “Does he always do that?”

  “Often,” he tells me with a smirk. “You get used to it. It’s actually rather enlightening to always hear yourself.”

  He shuffles through a few printouts – my résumé and what appears to be a copy of our email correspondence. I take this moment to fully take him in. That sweater must have been knitted by a dozen magical fairies because it fits him perfectly and hugs his shoulders just right. I need to go there, just for a tiny second… yes, he’s shirtless. Mmm…

  “I see you’ve worked in advertising with… three different ad agencies?” he asks, his last few words tight.

  Damn, my lack of staying power. That always comes up in interviews. I know I’ve moved around quite a lot, but the truth is I get bored. I worry my lip for just for a second. “Advertising… it’s always moving.” I know full well that I’m full of shit. “I like to explore different environments.”

  “I like to explore different environments,” Miko parrots.

  Oh my goodness, it sounds trite when the parrot says it. Fuck.

  Fail #1.

  Mr. Hyde cocks a brow, sceptical – yep, he knows I’m full of shit. Even mildly annoyed, the man is gorgeous. “There would be a lot of monotonous work – mailings, correspondence, office management. Would you be comfortable with that? It may not be as creative as you would like.”

  I want this job. I wanted this job before, but now I want it more than ever. To work in this beautiful house next to this exquisite man every day? Hell, I should be paying him! No…

  On second thought, I don’t think I should take this job. I’m already imagining him shirtless and having inappropriate thoughts. “Well, as long as there’s a mix of duties, I should be happy.”

  There is no way I’m not taking this job. I don’t care if sexual frustration is part of the deal. I’ll just have to masturbate every night.

  He straightens his back and settles his palms on the surface of his desk, looking heart-attack serious. “I expect nothing but the best from my employees. Punctuality, reliability, and an eagerness for the work are a must.”

  I nod, and for a split second, I’m taken back to third grade. I wore a pink skirt and a Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt. I remember the principal scolding me because I had sneaked into the convenience store across from the school to buy some liquorice. Defiant, all I could think about was doing it again the next week, but I would be more careful not to get caught.

  “I expect an exceptional work ethic and attention to detail,” Mr. Hyde goes on. “And absolutely no dillydallying on my time.”

  Sheesh… what a taskmaster. “Sure,” I say, the word clipped. Sure, but I’ll watch cute kitty videos on YouTube when I feel like it. I shoot him a tight smile. I’m getting that liquorice, dammit.

  He smiles. “You say you’re an avid reader, romance especially. Have you read any of my books?”

  Fuck. Fail #2.

  “Uh…” I fidget with my skirt again. I’m going to wear out the hem at this rate. Why is he putting me on the spot? “I-I haven’t had a chance… but I did download the first of your series on my Kindle,” I add with a smile. “It’s definitely next on my list.”

  He clears his throat and winces. “Well… hopefully, you’ll still want to work for me after you’ve read it.” He gives me an impish smirk.

  What in the heavens does that mean?

  He sits back against his chair, an
d it sinks lower under his weight as he rests his chin on his thumb, his fingers tracing the sharp angle of his jawline. The man probably has no clue how gorgeous he is. I wish my eyes could take a photograph.

  “I write dark erotic romance,” he says. “Very intense. It’s a genre that’s certainly not for everyone.”

  If there’s sex, it’s for me. My hearts beats frantically. “So… kind of like Fifty Shades?”

  He smiles – a delicious slow-rising grin. “Not exactly.” That insanely sexy smile still traces his lips. “Did you read the Fifty Shades trilogy?”

  I swallow hard. Perfectly acceptable question given the circumstances of this interview. I nod slowly, staring at the floor. I know I have a goofy smile on my face, and I feel a blush rise up from my neck to the top of my head. I’m acting completely ridiculous. Fail #3. I finally look at him and nod.

  His striking eyes are fixed on me. Unlike me, he doesn’t seem to find this amusing at all. There’s such an intensity about him when he asks, “Did you enjoy them?”

  His words are slow and smooth as silk and so, so fucking sexy. This guy is weird all right. He strikes me as a bit of an ass, yet I can see a softer side. And that is such a turn-on.

  Fuck, I’m turned on. I’ve never been aroused in an interview before. This is all new to me… and slightly mortifying. Fail #4.

  I look him straight in the eye when I say, “I did. I loved them… every single word.”

  He clears his throat again. “Uh, well… well, in that case, you might enjoy my books as well.”

  He sounds a little breathless. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was turned on too.

  Swiftly, he sits up straighter, and his large leather chair bounces off the floor. Miko ruffles his feathers and whistles.

  “So, Miss Riverstone,” Mr. Hyde says, all business, “which authors do you enjoy?”

  Clearly, he refuses to call me Ruby. The question catches me off guard. I’ve never really thought about it. “Well,” I say while mulling it over. “I love Sophie Kinsella. She’s so funny and witty, and I get so caught up in her books.”