“If you don’t mind, Lukas,” she says now, folding her hands in her lap, “I’d like to retire to my rooms.”
“Now?” I ask, taken aback. “We still have a dozen women—”
“I’ve seen enough,” she says simply. “Would you wheel me out to Thomas, please?”
“Of course,” I say. “Hannah, I apologize, if you could just wait for a moment?”
“No problem,” she smiles brightly. “It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Roth.”
“And you as well Dear,” Mother says. I straighten the blanket on her lap and push her chair across the room. Thankfully, I’ve managed to will my groin into submission by now. Thomas, hearing our approach, opens the door for us, closing it primly behind.
My mother grasps my wrist, turning to face me with the tiniest of smiles on her lips. It’s the first smile I’ve seen from her all day. “Lukas,” she says adamantly, “I want her.”
“Miss Levy?” I ask, keeping my voice low, “Are you sure, mother? She’s rather...young for the job, isn’t she?”
“Exactly,” Mother says, nodding her head, “She’s youthful, and energetic, and sincere. She’s exactly the kind of company I want during these final days of mine. She’s the first person, among this parade of crones you’ve brought before me, who actually looked me in the eye and addressed me like a person. Like a fellow woman. And don’t think I can’t see that you’re taken with her too.”
“What?” I say, “That might be a bit of an exaggeration. I admit that I find Miss Levy to be...pleasant.”
“Which is the highest possible praise from you, isn’t it?” Mother quips. “If the man who dislikes everyone can spare a kind word for this particular girl, she must really be something, eh?”
“I’d like to finish with the rest of the applicants before we make a decision,” I say, “I insist.”
“You do whatever you like with the rest of your day,” Mother says, “I, for one, am calling it. I want you to hire Miss Levy, Lukas. That’s that.”
“And you wonder where I get my stubbornness from?” I say, shaking my head.
“Please,” she says, “It was never any wonder, my dear. Thomas, would you mind taking me upstairs? I’d like a bit of a rest.”
“Of course, Ma’am,” Thomas says, taking over for me. “Right away.”
“Good luck with the rest of the crypt keepers,” Mother says lightly over her shoulder, making no attempt to keep her voice down lest the remaining applicants hear. Sighing, I turn back toward my office, back into the company of Hannah Levy.
Chapter Three
-Hannah-
I listen as the door opens once more and Lukas enters the room. I have to remind myself to breathe as he crosses the room. Can he have any idea how attractive he is? I let my eyes linger on the fine shape of his body as he makes his way back behind the heavy wooden desk.
He’s definitely in his late thirties, and what seems to be his physical prime. There’s no way that his body could be more perfectly proportioned and exquisitely balanced than it already is. That just wouldn’t be fair to the rest of mankind.
He’s dressed simply but tastefully in woolen slacks and a white cotton shirt. His shoes and belt are a fine, dark brown leather, and an extremely expensive-looking watch rests at his wrist. His brown hair is closely cropped but thick and full, and there’s a smattering of five o’clock shadow on his powerful, razor sharp jaw. His eyes are a dark, flinty blue—almost indigo in hue. His aquiline nose and full, firm lips round out his face perfectly. And that’s to say nothing at all of his body.
I had no idea this was even possible, but Lukas Roth is at once utterly muscular and lean. Not an ounce of spare body fat graces his figure. The firm panes of his chest and decadent swells of his ass and shoulders do not appear to have been sculpted in a gym. There’s no way he’s had the physically demanding career of an outdoorsman or country boy, but he has the kind of body that looks as though it’s always in motion, even at rest. It’s quite a labor of will to tear my eyes away from his sculpted biceps to meet his gaze once more. But when I do, I see that I’m not the only one who’s been letting her eyes wander.
Lukas’s deep blue eyes are resting intently on my chest, peering down into the opening at the top of my rosy blouse. I have the sudden, mad impulse to lean forward, to draw that gaze of his even closer to me...until I remember, of course, that this is a job interview. This man is my potential employer, not some rich John that I’m trying to entice. I would do well to remember that.
Before I can even clear my throat, Lukas has settled back down into his chair, composed and businesslike as ever. Was I just imagining things, thinking he was checking me out? If so...why does the room feel just a little warmer since Mrs. Roth made her exit? I will myself not to think about the fact that Lukas and I are now entirely alone. It’s far more important for me to get this job than to engage in some momentary flirtation, that much is for sure.
“She’s certainly taken a liking to you,” Lukas says, leaning back in his chair, “And let me tell you, that is not something that happens very often.”
“I’m so glad,” I reply, folding my hands on my lap like some damned schoolgirl. “Mrs. Roth seems like a very wise woman. Very much aware of what she wants.”
“That’s true,” Lukas says, “She’s always been an astute woman, albeit hardheaded at the best of times.”
“When did she come over to the States?” I ask.
“When everyone else did,” Lukas answers, “During the War.”
“Good thing,” I say, rather lamely. My grasp on world history beyond my sheltered suburb is embarrassingly loose.
“A very good thing,” Lukas nods, “Her father was a doctor, but also a scholar and a patron on the arts. And Jewish, it bears saying. He ensured that his wife and three young daughters got out of the country before things became dire, but was not fortunate enough to escape himself. My grandmother remarried years later in the states. She had already inherited a large fortune from my grandfather, and the man she married was from old money himself.
This is his family home, passed down through the generations to my mother, his step daughter. She is the youngest of her sisters, but the others passed away when they were still quite young. I am the only family my mother has left.”
“Your father passed away as well?” I ask softly.
“Yes,” Lukas says shortly. It’s clear from his tone that I won’t be getting any more out of him on the subject. I’m suddenly embarrassed about my father’s uninterrupted wealth and prosperity. Both sides of my lineage go back to the original European settlers of the Colonies. Not one of my ancestors, save perhaps the very earliest, ever had to face hardship or tragedy the way the Roth's clearly had.
“Well...your home is gorgeous,” I tell him, wishing to change the subject.
“Thank you,” he replies. His answers have dwindled down to just a few words each. I hope I haven’t done anything to offend him.
“What...Uh...What do you do, Mr. Roth?” I ask. My nerves, coupled with my very real and very inappropriate attraction to Lukas, are making my head spin.
“Do?” he echoes, “What do you mean?”
“I mean...For a living,” I say, my throat feeling suddenly tight and constricted.
Lukas stares at me for a long moment. The look in his eyes is that of a man standing on a precipice, wondering whether or not he should jump. But his expression hardens, and he simply replies, “I worked for the government. I don’t anymore.”
“Oh,” I say, fighting to keep the alarm from my voice. Though Sloan himself had been perpetually on the wrong side of the law, his entire family worked in the government or law enforcement agencies. Three of his brothers were policemen, his father was a powerful Senator, and even his mother had served as Mayor for a few years. I’ve come to associate the government with manipulation, and law enforcement with turning a blind eye. I know it’s foolish to extend that fear to the rest of the world, but I can scarcely help it.
&
nbsp; “If you don’t mind,” Lukas says, leaning his forearms on the desk, “I’d like to talk about you, rather than about my own resume.”
“Of course,” I breathe, watching his muscular arms strain against the fabric of his shirt.
“You’re currently employed at Georgetown Hospital,” Lukas says, “Which means that you must live relatively close by?”
“Clarendon,” I reply.
“Good restaurants in Clarendon,” he says, “Good bars. You like it there?”
“Oh, yes,” I tell him, “I’ve been there for six years. I live with my best friend from college. Sophia. She’s—”
“Right,” he says, cutting me off a bit rudely. So much for wanting to talk about me. I feel a little prick of irritation in my gut. I hope this man doesn’t turn out to be another rich, heartless marble statue. I could have sworn I saw a little twinge of life in him these past fifteen minutes or so. I’d like to think that I wasn’t just seeing things, but who am I kidding? Lukas Roth is a single, handsome millionaire. What are the chances that someone like that might actually have a heart? And if by some chance he does have hot blood coursing through those veins, why on Earth would I be the kind of girl to send his temperature through the roof?
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” he goes on, focusing those devastating eyes on me.
“Shoot,” I tell him.
“You already have a full time position at Georgetown,” he says, “I assume that they’re paying you good money. Why is that you’re looking for a second job?”
It’s the one question I’d wished he wouldn’t ask. I didn’t want to have to lie or omit in this very first interview, but what choice do I have? It’s not as though I can tell him the truth. That would be a great conversation starter, wouldn’t it? I want to take care of your dying mother because I just got out of a horribly abusive relationship and I need to keep my mind off it at all costs, lest I return to the man who nearly destroyed my entire life?
“I just...like to stay busy,” I tell him with a smile.
His expression is unreadable, but I can tell that he’s not prepared to press the issue. He glances back down at my resume, ticking through the items listed with a ballpoint pen. I can feel fine beads of sweat collecting at my hairline. What is it that he’s looking for on that flimsy piece of paper that he doesn’t see in the woman sitting before him? Can he tell that I’m damaged, that I’m scared, that I’ve been knocked around by life and lived to tell the tale? Or is he simply playing with me, like a cat would a helpless little mouse?
“Do you have any family, Hannah?” he finally asks.
“Family?” I repeat.
“Yes,” he says, “I’d imagine that there are people you’d like to spend time with, outside of work. Relations to visit, friends to spend time with...?”
“No,” I answer simply.
“No one?” he asks again, incredulous.
“Not really,” I reply, a sudden wash of sadness spilling through me. “My parents and I...aren’t very close. They live in New England. I don’t have any siblings, and Sophia is my only close friend.”
“What about boyfriends?” he asks point blank.
I raise my eyes to his and spot a little sparkle of earnest curiosity before he can mask it. It’s clear to me that Lukas is very skilled at hiding behind his devastatingly handsome visage, peering out at the rest of the world behind a barrier of impassivity. He’s the kind of man who can strip you down with nothing more than a casual glance, leaving you feeling naked under his gaze, heaving and throbbing with the desire to let him know you. It’s clear, because he’s doing it to me right this moment. But the thing is, I’m rather good at seeing through people myself.
“No boyfriend,” I say softly, “Not anymore.”
He nods his head once, sucking in a deep breath. “Well, Hannah. I have a few more women to interview before I make my decision. I’ll be in touch.”
I’ll be in touch? Talk about the last thing you ever want to hear leaving an interview. It had seemed like he was interested in me, but maybe I was imagining things? I pick myself up off the chair and turn with a smile, excusing myself from the room. I hear Lukas rise from his own chair and close the space between us. He reaches around me and opens the door before I can reach it myself.
As I move past him, I feel his strong hand graze the small of my back. The searing, intimate touch makes me jump, whipping around to face him. His face is mere inches from mine, in kissing distance to be sure. I look up at him surprised, and he draws his hand away once more.
“My apologies,” he says gruffly, dropping his hand to his side. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Levy.”
“Th-thank you, Mr. Roth,” I stammer, “You too.”
He closes the door unceremoniously in my face. I stare at the thick slab of wood, unmoving. That light touch of Lukas’s sent a whole barrage of emotions flooding through me. There was joy there, and anticipation for sure. But there was also fear at being in such close proximity to a man. I hadn’t really been close to anyone, physically or otherwise, since Sloan and I parted ways. And Sloan’s touch had been so forceful, so lasting, that it was hard to imagine being touched by anyone ever again. And yet, some little part of me thrilled to feel Lukas’s hand on me...
What the hell is wrong with me today? It must just be interview stress. I hurry down the hallway as Thomas makes his way down the grand staircase. He smiles at me winningly as I make my way toward the exit.
“Goodbye Miss Levy,” he says with a wave, “Between the two of us, I hope he chooses you.”
I smile back and pull open the heavy front door, stepping out into the early evening air. The entire estate looms up before me in the golden light, impossibly stunning in its elegance. I make my way over to my beat up little bug and slip inside, pulling away from the Roth’s home.
As I pull out onto the gravel drive, a flurry of movement catches my eye in the rearview mirror. A flash of wool and cotton, of steely blue and deepest black, disappears before I can get a good look.
“Get a grip, would you?” I growl to myself, “He’s just a man, Hannah. A man you might be working for if things go well. Though, I don’t know...”
I make my way back to my apartment in thoughtful silence. As ever when I’m alone and without distraction, my thoughts cast backward—whether I want them to or not.
Chapter Four
-Lukas-
“Thank you, Ms. Cowan,” I mutter, rising to my feet, “I’ll be in touch.”
The grizzled woman before me makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “You won’t want to wait too long to find a nurse,” she chides, rising to her feet with no little effort, “That mother of yours is bound to keel over at any minute.”
A rush of violent, white hot rage courses through me. My thoughts race immediately to the hundred different ways I could kill this vile creature with nothing but my bare hands.
“Thank you for your input,” I say through gritted teeth, balling my hands up into fists behind my back. “Thomas will see you out.”
The last candidate of the day hobbles out of the room, and Thomas closes the door behind her. I slam my fist down hard on my desk, my entire body rattling with irrepressible anger. That woman wouldn’t be fit to sweep the floor that my mother walks on, let alone be her sole companion through the last days of her life. The despicable, unfeeling ego of the human race will never cease to amaze or disgust me.
I push myself away from the desk, noting with displeasure the little crack that’s disturbed the wood where I brought down my fist. I’ve been hearing all my life that I need to learn how to control my temper, but at this stage in the game, what’s the point? My temper, my inability to feel fear, my utter lack of anything to care deeply about, have become professional assets. Why do anything to hinder them? In my line of work, the ability to act on an instinct immediately and without question or pause is something of a godsend, after all.
Climbing the stairs to my mother’s room, I brace myself fo
r what lies ahead. Mother’s dialysis regimen has already begun, and the sight of her amid those unnatural contraptions never ceases to mortify me. We were close when I was a boy, but never in such an intimate way as we are now forced to be. We grew up properly, without much attention paid to feelings or emotions. So what are we to do now, when little exists between us but grief and pain and mourning? I have yet to discern that for myself. And I’m sure that my mother hasn’t, either.
“Mother?” I call, pushing open the door to her bedroom. “Are you decent?”
“Of course,” she replies with a hollow laugh, “Who have I got to be indecent for since your father passed? No one, of course. What I wouldn’t give for a little indecency...”
I sigh as I enter the dimly lit room, averting my gaze from the bed. Mother lies there, as she does for much of the day, with an old book resting in her withered lap. She seems to be disappearing by the day, as her sickness saps more and more life from her.
“How did the rest of the interviews go?” she asks, beckoning me forward.
“Just fine,” I reply, holding my ground.
“You are going to hire Hannah, aren’t you?” she demands.
“Is that really what you want?” I ask quietly.
“Absolutely,” she says. “Lukas...We could use a little vitality around this place. Ever since Andrea and the kids...It would be nice to have a pretty smiling face to look at once in a while.”
Hearing my wife’s name uttered in the gathering darkness of this living tomb is almost too much for me to bear. I draw myself up and turn on my heel, feeling suddenly suffocated by Mother’s invocation of my family.
“Sleep well, Mother,” I say, my voice steely.
“I love you, Lukas,” she replies, sad and earnest.
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