by A. E. Murphy
“That’s fine,” Max says, looking a bit stupefied. “This is insane.”
Wilson nods, looking sheepish.
“And this definitely isn’t a prank?”
“Most certainly not.”
Max’s smile shines brightly at me. “I have a brother. How crazy is that?”
“Mental,” I mutter and feel my stomach churn. Why is this happening to me? This can’t be happening. “Does his brother live in York?”
“No, he lives many places but York isn’t a place he frequents often. Now that he has the title, however, he has to show his face here a little more.”
Wilson pulls a folder from his briefcase and unfolds it, revealing familiar looking contractual agreements. “If you could both read through these and sign where appropriate…”
Max doesn’t hesitate to put pen to paper, something else I’ll berate him for later.
I thoroughly read mine, checking the terms as I go.
“Smart woman,” Abraham comments and Max shoots him a scowl.
“I must tell you that if the press gets wind of this, they will turn it into a big deal so be silent on the subject. My employer and old friend, your father, the Lord Duke Graham George Henderson the third, had a very high standing in today's society. His son and your half-brother, the Lord Duke Elijah Graham George Henderson the first, also holds a very high standing in today's society. The title itself may not be of much standing, but their stocks and shares alone mean they hold a wealth and a gathering of peers that most aren’t fortunate to have.”
I see Max’s eyes flash. He smells money and a lot of it. How am I going to keep him humble now? Money makes him rotten. This has come at the worst time.
“Now, when do I get to meet my brother from another mother?” Max asks, rubbing his hands together.
“A week on Tuesday, the Lord Duke will be back in the city.”
“He isn’t here?” I blurt loudly and quickly clamp my mouth shut. This brings me hope though; if he isn’t here then it isn’t him.
“He’s attending to a very urgent matter in London.”
“Oh, sorry for my outburst,” I say quietly and chew on my lower lip, wishing I could find a hole to crawl into. I still want to know more but I’m scared of implicating myself, which is ridiculous. I’m being paranoid.
Wilson waves me off and turns back to Max. “You and your wife are welcome to stay at St Leonard’s Place, a property recently purchased by His Grace, the night of your visit.”
“The old courthouse?” I ask timidly, not meeting his eyes.
“They do tours through there, don’t they?” Max looks to me. “I’m sure we went there once.” Nope, I wanted to go but Max ended up cancelling in order to watch the races.
“Before they turned it residential living, yes.” He checks his watch and hands us both our copies of the contracts and business cards with his details. “I’ll be in touch with a date and time.”
“Should we wear anything fancy?”
His eyes scan our home and he winces. “Just come as yourselves.” He stands to leave and it’s not until he actually goes that I majorly start to freak the fuck out.
Max goes wild with glee and I don’t think it has anything to do with the fact he has a brother.
“I’m going to nip down to the library,” I say softly after he finishes his freak out.
“Why?”
“Research. Don’t you want to know more?”
He frowns. “Do you think that’s wise? What if somebody…”
“Don’t be silly. Nobody is going to question a girl looking up Dukes in the library. Besides, aren’t you interested too?”
“Meh. Sunderland is about to kick Newcastle to the curb so you go on ahead. I’m going to celebrate my future riches and familial bonding with a cold beer.”
I roll my eyes and grab the bag I dropped on the small counter on the way in. “I’ll come back before I leave for work.”
“Okay.” This time he does see me to the door and makes sure to molest my arse with his hands, and my mouth with his lips before I leave.
“It probably isn’t him,” I repeat to myself as I rush through the cold streets of York. The closest library is a mile away and there are so many bends and turns that it takes twenty minutes to get there. Not that I mind, I appreciate the exercise and the time I have to clear my head.
What if he recognises me? I kept my face covered and it was really dark. He could only just see my body, so it’s unlikely that he paid close enough attention to insignificant details like the scar on the inside of my wrist.
What if he recognises my voice? I deepen it for my clients but not that much. This is so fucked up.
It isn’t like he can say anything if it is him, but how am I going to live with myself knowing that I was one step away from fucking my husband’s brother?
Max: Now that I think about it, you seemed really upset before you left… should I have followed you? Are we fighting?
I smile at my phone lovingly. Max and I may have had our ups and downs but he loves me. I know he does.
Olivia: We’re fine. I’m fine. It all just shook me up. I’m nearly at the library now.
Max: I’m on my way.
My grin broadens but then falters. I only have a few minutes to search and freak out about it so I pick up the pace.
The library isn’t very busy and there are enough computers free for me to feel like I have some small semblance of privacy.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath after logging in. “Elijah… Graham… fuckety.” I’ve forgotten his full name.
I quickly type ‘The Duke of York’ and watch the search engine spill pictures across the screen.
“No!” I hiss almost silently and my hands fly to my hair. “Mother bitch…”
I’d know those icy grey eyes anywhere. Like frosted gunmetal. I’ve never seen such a penetrating stare.
Fuck my life.
What am I going to do?
My palms sweat and tears blur my vision. I’ve crossed a huge line. A huge line. I can’t cope with this. There’s no going back.
I’d talked myself out of my madness on the way here, only to get here and confirm that I wasn’t mad but accurate.
I’ve had his cock in my hand. He’s seen my pussy up close. Why does the memory make me tingle?
“So that’s him?” Max startles me so badly that my loud yelp echoes around the room and everybody looks my way. How long have I been staring at his picture for?
“You have the same hair,” I say and tuck my trembling hands under the desk. I squeeze them together with my thighs. “But the similarities end there.”
When Max lets his hair get long, it also forms that love heart shape as it parts. It doesn’t suit Max but it really suits the Duke.
“My Lord Duke.”
My own husky voice floats through my mind and my body shudders. I need professional help.
“The guy is worth millions…” Max states as he controls the mouse by leaning over my shoulder and I’m annoyed that the first thing he’s done is check out the guy’s net worth.
Sighing, I stand and allow him access to the computer before wandering into the historical romance section and picking out a book. What would you know? This one is about a Duke and a maid.
I roll my eyes at my odd stroke of unluckiness before putting the book back and picking out another.
Then I curl up in a large, well-used bean bag and begin to read. It doesn’t totally distract me from my own thoughts, but it’ll have to do.
*****
Work was strenuous. Yes I gave my clients their money’s worth but I panicked, worried that the Duke would show. What if he comes back and asks for me?
I wish now that I’d messed up badly. Although he didn’t tip me like the others tipped me so maybe he didn’t enjoy my teasing.
What’s worse is, I’m bound by another contract so I can’t tell Rick why I can’t dance for the Duke anymore. I’m not in a profession where I’m allowed to be pick
y and it seems like Rick will bend over backwards to please this powerful man.
I recall bending over backwards from the pole and offering the Duke my mouth.
This is such dangerous territory.
Ten days go by. Ten agonising days of waking up each morning wondering if today will be the day that we’re formally invited to meet the Duke of fucking York. I’m losing my mind. I haven’t been able to eat, sleep… anything. I’ve lost a bit of weight, which is bad because I wasn’t exactly heavy enough to lose weight safely in the first place.
Max has been insufferable. Money signs are all he can see in regards to this meeting so when we finally get the call inviting us to see the Duke tonight, his excitement hits the roof.
And now here we are, in a car sent for us, a Bentley… on our way to the city centre where the Duke has just forked out millions for a home that most people would kill for.
I feel ill.
I’ve tried making excuses as to why I can’t go but Max has been rather insistent, to the point of threatening divorce if I’m not there for him.
I just feel so out of place.
Max’s hand engulfs mine on my lap as we’re driven through the city. It doesn’t help at all. The panic that my marriage might be about to end has me in pieces. I’m surprised I’m able to keep my cool.
I should tell Max the truth but he’d never understand. Hell… I wouldn’t understand if our situations were reversed.
“We’re here,” the driver announces as we take a corner and pull into a large double garage. The lights on the inside light up the second the garage door ascends. This garage is bigger than my apartment and nicer too. The walls are pure white, smooth and hold matching cabinets, all of which have locks on them.
The driver climbs from the car once we’re parked and opens my door as the garage door descends behind us. The car beside the Bentley we arrived in is a…
“Fucking Porsche!” Max exclaims, his voice high and cracking.
The driver smirks and winks at me, his warm brown eyes helping to soothe my nerves as I take in the surroundings.
“It’s a hire. The Lord Duke prefers his Lamborghini but it’s having a paint touch up.”
Of course he has an even more expensive car than the two cars in his garage combined.
“I’ll leave you in the lobby with his PA. You’ll be alone save for his PA, a pleasant fellow called Drake, and his security who you probably won’t even see.” He leans into Max and lowers his voice. “But they’re there.”
Max ignores him as we both follow him through a large, private, walled in garden. It’s cute but seems to be having work done to it as the grass is gone and there’s a pipe sticking up in the middle.
“He has a wife, doesn’t he?” I never thought to search for her and now I’m wishing I had. Maybe I can convince her to take me away from the men as they bond.
“She’s in America at the moment, I think. You’ll have to ask his Grace.”
His Grace? I feel like I just stepped into the fifteen hundreds.
The back doors open and a tall, spindly man steps out. His narrow face is framed with dark curls and his eyes are magnified by thick lenses with a red outline. “Mr and Mrs Corbin! It’s a pleasure.” He shakes our hands and hustles us inside. “My name is Stefan. I’m the Duke’s personal assistant.” We step into what looks to be a living area but doesn’t have a TV. Beautiful couches take up the centre of the room before an ornate fireplace. The decor is divine, all soft greys and lilacs with solid, dark wood flooring.
“Please, follow me. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I can make them if you show me to the kitchen,” I offer, praying he says yes.
“And deny our cook, Mildred, her chance to shine? Not a chance.” He winks.
“What do you have?” I ask, my mouth so dry that I physically can’t refuse.
“Wine, tea, coffee, juices. You name it we likely have it.”
“We’ll both have tea, please.” Max answers and I’m relieved that he didn’t ask for beer.
“Certainly.” He lifts his watch to his mouth and presses a button on the side before speaking into it. “Mildred, two teas and snacks.”
“Copy that,” I hear seconds later from something hooked over his right ear.
“We have the best tea,” Stefan says and leads us down a wide hallway. This place is so elegant. I look like a tramp in comparison. I couldn’t risk wearing anything more than my baggy jumper and jeans. I’m too scared he’ll recognise my body. This is my burden to bear. I have to protect myself, my marriage and him too. I can only imagine what a scandal like this could do to his reputation. Not that he has a glowing reputation as it is.
We enter another room, one that is smaller, cosier, more intimate. It has a fireplace. It also has a bar and a TV and the softest looking sofas I’ve ever seen.
“Please take a seat, I’ll let the Duke know that you’ve arrived.” He taps at the watch on his wrist again as we both sit awkwardly. Stefan frowns when the watch beeps. I want to take a closer look at it. It’s a piece of tech that I don’t recognise at all. “I apologise but the Duke is held up on a video call. He shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Thank god,” I mutter and seconds later the doors open and an elderly woman bustles inside pulling a tray with her.
Stefan helps her with it and she greets us both with cool hands and warm smiles.
Max moves to make us our drinks as he makes small talk with Stefan. I pick up a cinnamon roll from the tray and take a small bite before sipping my tea.
“You were right, it is good tea,” I say and Stefan smiles before returning to his conversation with my husband. They chat football and Stefan tells us about his passion for dog races and horse races. I find them abhorrent.
A painting sits on the wall to my right. I stand, placing my almost empty cup onto the tray and move to it. I’m not a huge fan of most art, it’s not something I could see myself spending tons of money on, but this one has piqued my interest. It’s bold yet elegant. It’s an unusual painting; the outer rim is black but then it bleeds into white and forms an unfamiliar face.
Max and Stefan laugh behind me. I don’t want to be rude or ignorant but I can’t sit and listen to them condoning animal abuse.
“It’s called ‘Shades,’ by a new artist who goes by the name Quentin Blake.” This deep, masculine and familiar voice startles me. I freeze in place. Does he recognise me? “It’s a bold piece, wouldn’t you agree?”
I glance at him but avoid his eyes. “Definitely.” My voice comes out as a high-pitched squeak. My hands begin to tremble by my sides but already he is moving away to greet my husband, who motions for me to join them.
My mouth is dry again.
“It’s a pleasure to have you both here.” His voice seems to shift and echo through my mind. I suddenly feel really dizzy. “I trust Stefan greeted you well?”
“He did.” Max grins. I keep my eyes on his profile, too scared to look into the eyes of the man who I slapped, teased and tied down. All I can think of is the noise that voice made when he released his seed onto my leg.
My ears begin to ring and I feel myself sway. For a second, just a brief flash before I fall into darkness, I see a flash of icy grey eyes that are even more piercing in person. Strong unfamiliar arms wrap around me, surrounding me in a spicy vanilla scent, and then I know nothing but the abyss.
“Olivia.” Max taps my cheek and my focus slowly comes back. He looks at somebody standing above me. “Sorry about this; she suffers with low blood pressure. It can make her faint.”
“I’m fine,” I say and rub my eyes. “I’m fine.” Max helps me to sit up and a glass of water and a tablet are thrust into my hand. The kind old lady who brought the tray in is the one who passed them to me.
“You're anaemic, that’s a multivitamin with iron.” She says and I look to Max who nods for me to take it. I hate that they’re all staring at me. My cheeks would probably be bright red if I weren’t so woozy right
now.
Where’s the duke?
I look around the room and catch him sitting on the sofa opposite, sipping a drink and looking casual as if nothing happened.
“She’s alive,” he jokes, smiling lightly.
I gulp and keep my eyes on his collar. “I’m sorry for the drama. I’m okay now.”
“Of all the times to faint,” Max hisses as though it’s my fault. I ignore him and pretend to place the tablet on my tongue before swallowing it with a large gulp of water. I know they aren’t going to poison me but I don’t trust pills as it is. I stuff the pill in my pocket.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean to.” Elijah winks at me and turns back to his brother. He definitely doesn’t recognise me. I’d be able to tell. He’d have given me some clue by now, right?
This is good.
“We don’t look much alike,” Elijah states and he and Max stare at each other for a beat.
I remain silent and sip my drink. “There are some similarities I suppose. You have his nose; I have my mother’s. You probably look more like our father than I do.”
Max looks around the room. I think he was hoping for a picture but something tells me, by the tone in Elijah’s voice, that photos of his father aren’t on his list of belongings.
“So, tell me about yourself. I’m aware that you’re out of work at the moment.”
Max nods. “We’re pretty simple people. We don’t have much but we love what we have.” Oh he is so full of shit. “Olivia here works at a packaging company called Stoxx.”
“Ah, yes. I’m aware.” Elijah shrugs apologetically. “My security insists on background checks on all people that walk through those doors.”
I am so lucky that Rick does things above board so that I wasn’t caught out just then.
“But working nights…” He continues, a frown on his face. “Does that not concern you?”
“Olivia can handle herself,” Max answers and points at me with his thumb. Elijah’s eyes widen for a beat and I quickly look away, fearful that the longer he looks into my eyes, the more likely he is to recognise me. “Can’t you?”