4 Men Of The House with correct Also By page

by Knight, Natalie

  “I’m Evan,” he says as he reaches out his hand.

  “Hi, I’m Meg,” I say, placing my palm within his own.

  And once we touch, there’s nothing like it. Electricity sparks and pulsates between us.

  I know he feels it too because there’s a certain amount of fire in his eyes. He’s looking at me like he’s hungry...and I’m the treat. I feel uncomfortable under his gaze, but I’m also turned on by it.

  He holds my hand for a second too long and then says, “What brings you here, Meg? I’ve never seen you in this crowd of people before. Did you come with someone?”

  I blush what I’m sure is a shade of crimson. I don’t want to tell him the truth. But if I don’t tell him now, the moment will have to come about later, and then I might look dishonest.

  “I...I actually work for you. I’m a maid. Today is my first day. I thought maybe somebody would’ve told you.”

  He looks at me with unbelieving eyes and says, “But you’re too beautiful to be a maid.”

  His comment makes me smile, and I feel as though I’ve actually somehow earned his respect.

  He doesn’t know that I went to Dartmouth College and that I have a good education under my belt. He can’t ever know these things about me because I’m here posing as someone I’m not.

  The familiar sickening feel of nausea overwhelms me as I try to stomach the fact that I’m here to betray this beautiful man.

  I’m cursing Simon silently in my brain. He failed to mention that the Belcourt brothers were so freaking hot. I guess he conveniently left that part out.

  My ache, my need is spreading between my legs as just being near Evan is enough to make me want to explode.

  I forget Simon and my sinister mission and just focus on him.

  And before I think it can’t get any better, the other man who was staring at me approaches us.

  “Hey, brother, I see you’ve made the acquaintance of our mystery guest.”

  Evan turns toward him, and they both exchange a look. It’s a look, an unspoken language that I can’t begin to analyze.

  “Ian, this is Meg. Somehow, fate has brought her here, and she works for us. She’s Mrs. Simmon’s new hire.”

  Ian looks at me in astonishment. “You work here? As in, we get to see you every single day?”

  He kisses my proffered hand with a darkened gaze.

  “I do. I work here,” I say awkwardly.

  “That’s wonderful. Just wonderful. Now we can all get to know each other a bit better.”

  He looks around for a waiter and steals a bottle of champagne off the tray.

  “I had some scotch, but it disappeared,” Ian says. “I’m glad you’re here, Meg, because I wanted to make a toast to my father, and I think now’s the perfect time.”

  He says the words, and as if by magic, fireworks begin going off behind us. They sparkle over the lake, and for a moment I’m mesmerized by the fact that I’m surrounded by such glorious gods of men.

  We’re all just quiet, taking in the fireworks and sipping the bottle of champagne. The whole party is at a standstill, watching. And it’s all in ode to one man, one Mr. Belcourt, who I’ve never known but whose reputation lives on.

  I sit between his two sons, his legacy, and that nagging guilt of having to betray them ruins the moment...just a little.

  We watch the display in silence, but something palpable is happening between us. I feel an intense connection growing between not only Evan but Ian as well.

  They’re equally hot, but in different ways. Evan is tall, built, and has seductive gray eyes.

  Ian is quite the opposite. He’s equally built but has blonde hair that’s slicked back but cuts across his blue eyes when he’s being casual.

  They’re both a sight for sore eyes, and I find myself fantasizing about what it might be like to have both of them...at once.

  My sex life with Simon has left me high and dry for some time. He’s not exactly good in bed, and I find myself wondering whatever made me stay.

  If only I had gotten out some time ago, I’d be free to date these guys. But then again, if Simon never sent me here, this moment never would’ve happened.

  I feel absolutely transfixed by the Belcourt brothers, and I still have two of them to meet, though I don’t imagine anything can compare to Ian and Evan.

  We watch the fireworks, and for once I feel like maybe I can belong somewhere, at least for the time being.

  I feel Evan’s arm come around my shoulder, and with this simple gesture, I feel that something big is about to begin in my life.

  Just when I think the fireworks and the mansion and the party...and the men can’t be more amazing, two guys walk up to us. And by their smoldering expressions, I can see that I might’ve been wrong...I might’ve underestimated those last two brothers.

  “What are we missing out on?” one says, taking the bottle of champagne. “Hi, I’m Paul.”

  I’m engrossed by his black hair and equally dark eyes.

  “Paul? I’m...”

  “Meg. I know. We’ve heard about you already.”

  I look toward Evan and Ian and realize they’ve been talking about me. It’s not such a bad thing considering the decadent situation I find myself in.

  “And I’m Matt.” He takes my hand, and all I can see are green eyes penetrating into my core.

  Fuck.

  I think my time here may well be spent drooling over this array of men. I cross my legs and attempt to offset the moisture that’s pooling within.

  I feel nervous butterflies, and my stomach sinks as I realize what I’m in for. There’s no way my time will be spent here without sampling at least one of these masterful men.

  It has to happen, right?

  Chapter 5

  Meg

  I’ve got mud under my fingernails.

  Soapy suds are everywhere as I lose control of the hose.

  Cleaning is not my thing, and yet I find myself scrubbing out the old sink in the garden house.

  There are old pots on the ground, and cobwebs adorn the walls. I swear I saw a mouse, and I just can’t quite believe I went from living in a posh NYC apartment to this.

  At least with Simon, I never had to get a job.

  He’s a financial wizard, and thus I never had to work. Instead, I dealt with a daily onslaught of personal insults and demands.

  I scrub the dingy sink out and remind myself of that personal abuse and how I deserve better. Even having to clean is better than being with Simon. Anything is better than having to deal with him.

  This is the mantra I say to myself over and over again as I’ve had to do all variety of domestic chores around the mansion.

  I’ve barely seen the guys as Mrs. Simmons has kept me busy. She’s had me cleaning out the garage, the cupboards, and the garden house.

  At least in here, I have a view of the beautiful grounds. As I scrub, I look out the antiquated window of the little house and admire the birds that are dipping into the water on the lake.

  The closest I ever was to nature in NYC was Central Park, but here it’s everywhere. The grounds are gorgeous and lush, and they spread out over acres.

  The truth is, I don’t mind the work all that much. It helps to keep my mind off Simon and of my truly dirty task at hand, misleading the men, my new bosses. Also, it’s helped me to get a lay of the mansion so I know where to look for secrets about the will.

  The sooner I get this over with the better.

  Simon checks in on me every night, and he forces me to text him about every little thing that happens. But so far, the only dirt I’ve dug up has been the grime underneath my fingernails.

  It’s a far cry from the life I was living in New York City. I went to school for English at an Ivy League college. I could technically get a job anywhere I want.

  And I would do so if I wasn’t so tightly under Simon’s grip.

  I’m happy to be away from him and from the constant fighting. The silence of the country is a welcome relief.


  It’s my plan to eventually leave this place, to leave him, and to head for paradise. There has to be a tropical island somewhere with my name on it. I can just disappear and recreate my life.

  I know that if I get the money for Simon, he won’t care if I come or go. That’s how deep our relationship goes.

  That one magical night when I was with all four of the Belcourt brothers watching fireworks seems like a distant memory now that I’m covered in mud and doing household chores.

  What was I thinking to imagine that I can ever be with one of them? I know by the gossip I heard at the party that they have the reputation of being playboys.

  I guess I was just a pretty face that one night to watch the fireworks with. I had it mistaken. There was no connection.

  Anyway, it makes it a lot easier for me to undermine them. I know Mr. Belcourt must’ve kept a copy of his will somewhere, and that’s what I need to get my hands on. It’ll get Simon off my back and out of my life.

  He doesn’t know that I’m planning on leaving him, but I spend my nights online searching for the perfect place and the perfect way to find my new identity.

  I scrub and I scrub and I scrub, but this damn sink doesn’t seem to want to get clean. It’s about a hundred years old, and I don’t know what the point is.

  Isn’t there a gardener somewhere that should be doing this?

  I scrub the sink until my hands are raw. Then I turn my attention toward the rest of it.

  The rakes and shovels need putting away. I organize the different seeds and categorize the tools until the place looks as pristine as possible. Then I sweep it out and am left in a dusty cloud of my own making.

  When I feel that I’ve done my best, that the crumbling house can’t get any cleaner, I go back to the mansion to see what other work Mrs. Simmons has in store for me.

  I wipe my dirty hands on my jeans and walk to the sink for a fresh drink of water. This place is so spotless that I hate to muck it up with my gardening mess.

  Mrs. Simmons comes into the kitchen and interrupts my break. “Are you all done out there, Meg? Well, that was fast. It only took the morning.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Simmons. The garden house is clean. It’s as clean as it can be.”

  “That’s a good thing, dear, because I need you to go to the library next. All the wood in there needs to be polished. And there’s lots of organizing of books and things. I know you’ll be fine. Just ask if you need assistance. I imagine it’ll take you a couple days to finish. I hope you’re alright with that.”

  No one can deny her warm demeanor, but she keeps a tight house. If I didn’t know how to be a maid before, I’m starting to learn now.

  “Yes, Mrs. Simmons. That’ll be no problem. I’ll get started now.”

  I take a few grateful sips of water and then go to my room to change into my maid’s outfit. It’s classic black and white, though not short enough.

  I splash cool water on my face and can’t quite believe that my life of luxury, this beautiful room, comes with manual labor. My entire body aches from all the cleaning.

  I stretch and pull on my uniform, ready for the next big job. And then it occurs to me...the library.

  I’m going to be cooped up in the library for the next couple days. I will be alone and will go through documents and everything. This has got to be where the Belcourt will is stored.

  It has to be in there somewhere.

  Simon said his mother once saw it, so I know it exists. And now I have the perfect opportunity to snoop, and nobody will be the wiser.

  I’m suddenly more than eager for my next cleaning assignment. I hurry through the corridor and tie my white, ruffled apron as I do so. If I don’t seize this opportunity and find what I’m looking for, I may wind up here longer than expected.

  The library’s on the second floor. The room itself is two stories high.

  I walk in and nobody’s there. There’s a spiral staircase that leads toward the upper level.

  I have my duster, and I pretend to clean as I look around the place for any evidence of where secret documents might be.

  I start with the desk—the obvious choice.

  I take a seat and go through some books and unkempt paperwork. It must’ve been George Belcourt’s desk because there are pictures of his kids everywhere.

  I take a moment to wipe down the frames of all the guys—the brothers I mistakenly believed were into me.

  It just doesn’t make sense. I’ve never felt electricity or sparks or anything like that with another human being. And yet I felt something real when I was with them. A connection emanated from all of us...I thought.

  I admonish myself for thinking so and go about my task. But it’s very hard when the handsome faces of these unattainable guys are right before me.

  Each one of them is different from the other, and that’s what’s so appealing. I imagine some woman is going to be lucky enough to be in their lives, and I feel silly for thinking it could’ve been me.

  And just when I’m starting to sulk over the fact, I feel a pair of hands cover my eyes.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he says.

  Chapter 6

  Matt

  She spins around to see me.

  She’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, and I find myself regretting the fact that work has kept me away from her beautiful face.

  She’s absolutely divine, enticing...irresistible.

  In truth, I’ve been thinking about her ever since we met at the party. Who could forget that one magical night watching the fireworks? I’ve never been with a woman before and felt such things, such sparks.

  It’s only the beginning of our love affair, and already it’s great.

  Yes, I’m already counting on this being a love affair. There’s no way I’m going to let Meg out of my life without sleeping with her at least once.

  She’d be lucky to have me—all women are. There will be no complaints from her, of that I can guarantee.

  She’s sitting at my dad’s desk, organizing and sorting through some paperwork.

  I’ve obviously surprised her because she says, “Matt! What are you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “It’s nice to see you again, Meg. I’ve missed our little encounter. Are you settling in here at the mansion?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says. “Everything’s going just fine.”

  That’s all she gives me. She deflects from my question, and I know she’s not really telling me how hard a time it’s been here at the mansion.

  I can tell by her messy hair and the state of her fingernails that she’s been put to work. Again I wonder how such a beautiful woman has ended up as a maid.

  From the other night, I was able to gather that she’s very smart and enabled. Why does she purposely demean herself with this kind of work?

  “Are you sure everything’s going okay? You look like you’ve been put to work pretty hard,” I say.

  She sighs and wipes the dust off her face and says, “Yes. Mrs. Simmons has had a lot of work for me to do. But hey, that’s what I’m here for, right?”

  I look around at what she’s doing in the library. The beautiful carved wood took months for my father to have completed. The library is one of the staples in the house.

  The room is stately, and it makes one want to escape in one of the many books that align the walls.

  But the library has been in somewhat of a mess since father died. People have been going through his paperwork and everything, trying to sort things out. I imagine Meg is in here cleaning up the mess.

  I sit on the edge of the desk and say to her, “This is my father’s desk. He had it imported from Italy. It’s still so weird to see this room empty. He spent a lot of time in here, working.”

  She looks at me like she genuinely cares and says, “I’m really sorry to hear that, Matt. I know it must be really hard losing your dad. I wish there was something I could do.”

  I look at her with a certain amount of awe in my
face.

  Doesn’t she know how beautiful she is? Doesn’t she know that her mere presence here is helping everything? Doesn’t she know that she’s been on my mind for the past couple days?

  Of course these are all things that I cannot say. I barely know the woman, for God’s sake. And besides, I don’t do relationships.

  After I had my heart broken in high school by this one amazing girl, I’ve never looked back. I don’t do love; it only brings trouble.

  But I do have a certain amount of lust in my life. Lust is the name of the game. Even with Meg, as beautiful as she is, I can’t see it developing into a relationship.

  Because, like I said, I’m just not that guy.

  I take the liberty of holding her hand in my own and say, “Meg, just your presence here is lightening the burden of our grief.”

  She gives me a questioning look and says, “How? I’m just the maid, after all.”

  I trace the outline of her face with my forefinger and bring it along her chin.

  I pull her chin up so she’s looking at me more squarely in the eyes and say, “You’re not just a maid. You’re more than that. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She blushes, and I’m happy to see her reaction. I love knowing that she feels flushed under my gaze and admiration. I get off on the power play here.

  If I can make her flush, then I can make her do other things.

  But she says, “Oh no, Matt. I’m sure you say that to everybody. Those lines won’t work on me.”

  She doesn’t know that I’m actually being serious. But I’m not going to correct her either. There’s no need in getting her hopes up, letting her think that something more will come of this.

  It simply can’t.

  “So what does Mrs. Simmons have you doing in here?” I ask her as I take in the look of the place.

  It’s a total mess, and I feel bad having Meg do it all on her own.

  “She has me polishing all the wood and organizing everything,” Meg says.