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HIS LOVE

Page 1

by KENYAN, M. O




  CHAPTER ONE

  Rayne turned and looked back at the cozy home that she had shared with her family for years. But now she was alone. Armed with a business degree that she couldn't use, she headed to the city to be a governess. She was a small town girl and the first and only one in her family to go to a university. After the stupid mistake she had made, her mother had to take out a loan to get her through school. Now the bank was there to collect. She counted herself lucky as her mother's friend found out about a governess job—a fancy name for a nanny— for a two-year-old in the neighborhood she worked in. Otherwise Rayne would be out on her ass and eating out of the trash can. Fresh out of college, homeschooling a rich kid was the only job she could get.

  The trip from Wyoming to the Hamptons was going to be a long one, but she had no other choice. She needed the job. She had promised her mother that she would be better—that she would command the world at her feet, but it looked like the world was forcing her to her knees. She was going to accept defeat, for now.

  Rayne looked back at her old home again. The old fashioned three bedroom house had served them well over the years. She knew that once she stepped out the door it would be lost to her, but she would keep the laughter, the memories, the sacrifices, and love that were made there. She wished she could leave with the kitchen door. Her mother had engraved her and Reno's growth spurts on there. Those were the happy times she was going to hold on to, before everything went wrong.

  She peered into the kitchen and she could see a perfect picture. Her brother, Reno, was giggling next to her as he shoved cereal down her shirt. She whined in protest and her father used his newspaper to swat her brother's hands away. Her mother, she just stood there, leaning against the stove, an accomplished look on her face.

  Rayne knew that there were things her parents kept from them, like when there was no money for a birthday party, or when her grandmother frowned at her mother for being different. It was obvious how dissimilar her families were. They were a perfect mix of the two. Her mother was African American, her long afro hair came down to her back, her brown eyes filled with warmth. Her father was Caucasian, he had honey brown hair and his green eyes shown like emeralds of love. He always looked at her mother like she was the best thing that ever happened to him. Rayne wished that she could find a man who looked at her that way too. She ran her hand over her face trying to push the unwelcomed memories away. She thought she had, but…

  It was time to go, time to face the cold new world away from the warmth of her home. She walked out of the house and as sure as if they were vultures prowling around a dead carcass, the bank officials were there, posting repossessed signs on her front door. She walked past them and shot them a gaze loaded with hate. She walked toward the taxi waiting for her; she was headed to the bus station, to her new job, and her new life. But she knew one thing for sure; whatever waited for her wasn't as good as what she was leaving behind.

  ***

  Antonio could hear her crying, but he didn't have time to humor her right now. Where is that nanny? He swore. When he walked into the dining room, he could see everyone staring at him. He wasn't sure if he had spoken his thoughts out loud. These days he couldn't tell the difference. The conversations he had in his head were as clear and sound as the ones he had with others. The difference was, no one talked back in his thoughts. The voice that echoed in his head was beautiful. Maria. He smiled. She was the love of his life and always knew how to get in his thoughts.

  "Aren't you even going to see what she wants?" his mother scolded.

  That's why they are staring. Antonio shook his head and went back to his Blackberry. He had three meetings that day. No time for lunch, maybe I could order in. That Italian place around the corner is pretty good. They do take-outs. Do they deliver? That new guy can go get it.

  His eyes lifted from his phone to his mother's face. The scowl was still there and she was staring daggers at him. She was beautiful, a true Spanish aristocrat. Her jet-black hair was always in a bun or clipped tightly at the back of her head. She looked tender and sweet the complete opposite of his father. He was American with a frown permanently settled on his face. He was all business. Money commanded the world and what not. Money commands respect. It was something his father had told him since he was six years old. On his tenth birthday he got a leather briefcase with his initials on it, not the remote control car he wanted. Obviously his mother had gotten the car for him later, but his father only accused him of being soft.

  Kane Antonio Burke, those were his official names, there were others too from his mother's Spanish side of his family, but he never saw them to be of importance. His heritage, she always told him. He was named after his father, but when he started working at the company he dropped Kane and went by Antonio. That way it didn't confuse his co-workers. He may have taken after his mother in looks, but in business he was a ruthless shark. His father had ensured that he earned his way up, from the mailroom to C.E.O. He had taken over after the tragedy, and now his father retired at the house in the Hamptons. Of course he hadn't completely retired.

  "Sofia, leave the man alone."

  Man, he snickered. His father, Kane, had finally referred to him as a man. He was twenty-six years old and his father had never referred to him as such until the year before. He had taken the reigns of the company and finally gotten his father's approval. His misery drove his need to succeed in the business world, especially since he failed everywhere else. His mother didn't like the idea though. According to her it was turning him into less of a man and more into a monster. My own mother called me a monster. But there were some things he couldn't remedy. Like that cry, it called out for comfort and for the longest time, but all he felt was spite.

  "I thought the nanny was coming today," he grunted. "What happened to the other one?"

  "You fired her." His sister dragged herself into the room. She was still in her pajamas at eight o'clock in the morning. "Remember she asked you if you would like to hold your daughter and you told her to get out?"

  "Jacqueline, be nice to your brother," Sofia said.

  "It's his kid and he doesn't even look at her." She sneered in his direction.

  They were so alike, but so different. Jacqueline had their father's amber eyes, but her hair was jet black just like Antonio and Sofia's. She took a laid back approach to life and never thought that conforming to the 'man' was the way to live life. She was six years younger than Antonio, but always acted like she was still sixteen.

  "This isn't any of your concern." Steel slipped into Antonio's tone. His eyes reduced to slits as he stared down his sister.

  "Excuse me, sir." A younger man came scurrying toward him.

  New guy, what was his name again? "What do you want?"

  "It's almost time for your meeting." His eyes avoided Antonio's cold stare.

  "It's my company. I will get there when I get there," Antonio barked.

  Kane, Antonio's father, waited for the man to run away, his tail tucked between his legs before speaking. "It's actually my company. My chair. My desk. My office. If you screw up even once you are out."

  "Of course." Antonio half-bowed mockingly. "You have been telling me that since the day you gave me my first briefcase."

  Antonio turned and started to walk away, wondering why he still lived in his parents' house. Then another cry reminded him why.

  "What about the baby?" Sofia called out.

  "Give her away to Goodwill." He didn't mean it. Or did he?

  "That's what you should have done with him." He heard Jacqueline say to their parents.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Her nerves were fried, the angry rays of the sun unforgiving. Rayne tugged at the collar of her t-shirt. Sweaty and her hair a frizzy mess, every inch of her was coming undone. Whose stupid i
dea was it not to have more than one cab service in the area? But at least I got a good walk, five miles is definitely considered as good cardio. She looked around and immediately realized where she was. This was where the kings lived. She heard a swooshing sound which she was sure was a helicopter, and leapt out of the way as a red Ferrari sped past her. She looked at the huge gate and felt like she was about to invade Buckingham palace. The massive security gates were meant to keep people out. Every inch of the place spoke of royalty. No way did she belong there. She was too normal. She bent down to the speaker and pressed the bell.

  "Who is it?" A voice asked.

  "Rayne Matthews, I'm the new governess." She heard a buzz and the pearly gates swung open.

  She took a step forward and all she could see was another security wall. She wondered where all the trees were, the flowers and the grass. From where she stood the place looked more like Alcatraz than it did a home. When she finally walked around the wall, she saw it. The house—scratch that—the mansion, was huge. All white with hints of earth tones. The trees, flowers, and grass were immaculately green, their colors vibrant and unreal, like nothing she had ever seen before. The scenery was interrupted by men in black suits; they were littered all over the property, searching for threats Rayne didn’t think existed, at least not behind the fortified walls and gate. She didn't think the white house had this much security.

  Rayne turned just in time to see a black Mercedes come barreling down the driveway. She leapt out of the way and unwilling to take the second attempt on her life lightly she shouted at the driver. "You bastard. There are people walking here."

  Granted, Rayne hadn't thought her attack through. She didn't anticipate the car stopping, or the door opening, and a six foot something god to step out of it. The first thing she noticed was his expensive suit, an Armani she thought. It was charcoal gray and screamed money. His black shoes were no doubt Italian leather. They were so polished she swore she could see her reflection in them. Her eyes moved up toward the man's face, she noticed the angry twitch in his jaw and his black eyes, although beautiful, were full of rage.

  He was definitely one of the owners. Rayne picked up her bag; she didn't need anyone to tell her that she was fired. “I know my way out,” she muttered.

  "Who are you?" he growled.

  Dear God that voice. It sent a shiver through her, but not of fear, the other kind. His dark eyes shone against his olive skin, and his wide shoulders looked strong and sturdy. His expensive suit only added to how desirable he was. He had a stubborn jaw, Rayne realized, but she was sure a passionate kiss would melt his icy demeanor. The sexual energy radiating from him demanded attention and her body was all too willing to obey.

  "I'm the new governess." The heat of the summer sun was long forgotten as she froze under his icy glare.

  "You are needed inside." With that he got into his car and drove off.

  Rayne didn't believe what just happened. She thanked God she still had her job and swore to keep her opinions to herself. Why didn't he reprimand me? Were things that bad? Is that why they had that massive wall in front of the huge gate, and all the muscle? She trudged on into the house nodding salutations to the security men, but getting none back. "Grumpy much?" she muttered.

  When she got to the front door there was someone there waiting for her. He was an older fellow and he looked like he had never smiled a day in his life. She gave him a friendly grin and started to introduce herself when he lifted his hand to silence her. He pulled the door shut behind him and started to walk in a different direction.

  Rayne was sure that someone had witnessed the fiasco at the front door. The old man must be her exit escort, there to shepherd her to the front gate, making sure she didn't get lost on the way out. "Listen if this is about that guy in the Armani, I promise it won't happen again?"

  "What are you talking about?" He glanced over his shoulder with disdain.

  And he speaketh. She quickly realized her mistake and made an attempt to remedy it. "I have no idea."

  "The employees use the back entrance. The front door is only for business associates, friends, and family."

  Rayne noticed what order he had mentioned the chosen few. But shouldn't family come first?

  "I will show you to your quarters, and then you will meet the family." He made a sharp about turn and Rayne almost ran into him. "You will have to find something more suitable to wear to meet the family."

  Rayne gave herself a once over. She was in tennis shoes, jeans, and a sweater, underneath it was a black tank top. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing? I'll take a shower and change later just after I rest."

  "Rest?" The man asked, an amused expression on his face.

  "Yes, rest," Rayne repeated. "You know, chill, and take a breather. I've had a long journey."

  "There is no resting here. You are up before the masters of the house and only sleep after they have slept. Your job will be twenty-four hours. The young miss is a fussy one." He marched toward the door and Rayne fell back a step or two. "Try and keep up. Laziness doesn't thrive in this household."

  Yep, this is Alcatraz, but how did the other governesses before her, escape? Or did they just die behind these walls? Maybe they were buried here. That grass does look a bit too green and healthy. They stopped in front of a tiny apartment after what seemed like a mile of walking from the main house. Just how big was this property?

  "This is where you will be staying. While at the house you will remain in the child's room. You have twenty minutes to get cleaned up and appropriate. After that come to the kitchen and I will introduce you to the family."

  Rayne had the urge to sass him, but didn't. She already had one strike. She needed this job. She would have to suck it up and bow down to the man.

  She took exactly twenty minutes. Rayne pulled her long sleeves down and clutched them tightly in her palms, hiding her secret. Her arms were well covered, but she couldn't take a chance. One look was all it would take for them to discover her secret and she would be out the door and on her ass. She poked her head in the kitchen and was amazed at how busy it was. There was a small army in there preparing what she thought to be a banquet, but she hadn't seen anyone, and the house was as silent as a grave yard.

  She walked over to an elderly lady who looked friendly enough. "Is there a party going on here?"

  "No, just brunch," she answered with a smile.

  "For how many?" Rayne's eyes followed a platter of fruit balanced on a waiter's shoulder as he walked past her.

  "Five."

  "Five?" she asked, startled. “All this food is going to feed five people. Tell me the truth. Are they all sumo wrestlers?"

  The old lady laughed. "You are funny. I hope you still have that laughter in your heart when you leave this house."

  She was taken aback by the warning. Everything in that old lady's voice told her to run and never look back. "I like you, I'm Rayne."

  "Melody. I run the kitchen. When you are done with the old stiff, come back, and I'll give you something to eat."

  Rayne's stomach cried out at the promise, but she straightened out when the old man suddenly appeared. He looked like a cadaver, a living breathing, walking, talking cadaver. "Here comes the stiff now," she whispered to Melody. Rayne's heart warmed when the older woman laughed.

  "I'm Morrison." The stiff introduced himself. He looked at her and frowned, obviously not pleased with her attire. "I guess it will have to do. Follow me."

  Rayne waited until he had turned around and then saluted him, sparking another bout of laughter from Melody and everyone else in the kitchen. The fun and games were over once they stepped into the dining room. Everything around the mansion intimidated her. There was nothing warm about the house, no pictures just angry paintings staring back at her. Sure, they were expensive, but there was no love in them.

  She was sure that there was a two-year-old in the home, but she couldn't hear her. That was something else that didn't sit right with her. They walked past the librar
y, the living room, and entered the living room. A young girl closer to her age was there. She was arguing with an older beautiful woman, while a man sat across from them, his nose glued to the newspaper.

  "Excuse me," Morrison announced himself.

  "Yes, Morrison?"

  The old man spoke first. It looked like the other two ladies took their cues from him. He, she believed, was the man.

  "This is Miss Mathews. She is here to take care of the young miss."

  "Very good, we were wondering when you would arrive." The older man spoke. His tight face didn't seem like it had ever stretched out in a smile. "I'm Mr. Burke, the lady is Mrs. Burke and the young lady is my daughter Jacqueline."

  Jacqueline waved at her, but didn't bother giving her more than a second of attention.

  "Miss. Mathews—" Mr. Burke began.

  "Call me Rayne."

  "Miss Mathews," he insisted, establishing the need for formality. "The young girl is in her room. You will be expected to take care of her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Morrison will tell you your salary when you sign the contract."

  With that she was ushered out of the room and directed to a table across the hall. There was a pen and a bunch of papers on the table, with X's where she was supposed to sign.

  Rayne perused the contract. "Confidentiality agreement? What is this, the mafia?" she teased, but Morrison's stern expression gave her a chill. "This isn't the Mafia, is it?"

  "The Burke family is very influential and rich. They just want to make sure that you don't sell any information that you come across or hear during your stay in this house."

  Rayne didn't want to find out what would happen if she ever let anything about these people slip. She quickly signed the papers and took the smaller piece Morrison gave her. She stared at the amount and was sure it was wrong. There must have been an accidental zero added there.

  "Are you sure this is correct? Is this on a six months basis or what?"

  "It's your salary per month," he said. He quickly gave her directions to the nursery and disappeared.

 

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