“You’re wanted in the east wing,” Tabitha informed her flatly as she walked in the door. The entire staff stopped eating to look up at Cara, each of them as shocked as she.
“What part of the east wing?” Cara finally asked when Tabitha returned to her pancakes, offering no more information. She did not look up for her plate but she did raise a blonde eyebrow in mock surprise.
“Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out,” she replied, nastily. Maurice whooped his customary obnoxious laugh.
“Aw shit! Clara’s getting fired? By Mr. Lam himself? What did you do at the party? And why didn’t you invite me?”
“Oh and Ms. Castillo,” Tabitha cut in, sharply. Cara turned back her immediate superior.
“Yes?”
“I believe you forgot something last night.” With that, Tabitha hurled something in her direction. She didn’t need to look to see it was her lace undergarment. Without pausing to pick it up, Cara backed out of the staff room and headed up the butler stairs, her heart beginning to pound. The howling and cat calling of the men following her relentlessly. She had not been anticipating a personal termination by Lamoreaux. It was clear that Tabitha knew what had happened. That was one mystery solved at least. Cara trudged up to the second floor and thought about bypassing Lamoreaux altogether. She could just as easily head to her room, pack up her belongings as she should have in the first place and head home to her family. The thought was almost irresistible but Cara was raised better than that. Was I? You wouldn’t know that by the way I acted last night. Reluctantly, she bypassed the hall leading to her suite and continued to the east end of the house. Pausing at the huge oak doors separating the east wing from the staircase, she inhaled deeply. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do. The doors had always maintained a perpetually closed position, the meaning unmistakable. No one was welcome into that part of the house. As a rule, Tabitha was exclusively in charge of that section although over the past few weeks, Cara had been allowed to clean the bathrooms and kitchenette on occasion. She wasn’t sure if that was a result of the library incident or if was already planned as such. Doesn’t much matter now, does it? She wondered why she was thinking about such trite issues. Her world was about to come crashing down as a result of the most reckless move she had ever made in her life. What had she been thinking? Cara was trying to keep her mind level as she faced what might be the most humiliating moments of her young life.
Taking another deep breath, Cara carefully opened the doors and let herself into the hallway. As the rest of the mansion, it was done in dark tones but there was a more sinister element to this part of the house, an element which was missing elsewhere in the building. Following the only splash of real color in the grim hall, a blood red runner, she walked toward the far end of the long corridor. Cara stopped dead in her tracks as something suddenly dawned on her. She knew what this was all about. She had not given the checks she had received to anyone. She had not even mentioned their existence to another soul. They were laying tangled in her stockings on the top of the laundry pile in her bathroom. Cara considered scampering back to her room to get them but she realized it would make her look much worse if she not only made him wait but handed over the evidence pre-emptively. Or would that make it better? She was facing a wicked conundrum. It had been a genuine mistake. Of course she had intended to give the checks to Tabitha right away but the events of the night had made her forget all about the donations and the mysterious donors.
As she stood in the corridor weighing her options, the very last door at the end of the hall opened and Kamil, Connor’s personal butler slipped passively outside. The very old man blinked beady eyes at the lovely girl as if he were staring at an apparition. Cara cleared her throat.
“Is Mr. Lamoreaux in there?” she asked nervously. The man bobbed his head and averted his eyes before shuffling past her and out of view. She knew this was not rudeness. Kamil was both deaf and mute. Tabitha often commented that was why he had been the longest in Connor Lamoreaux’s employ. The man simply did not gossip. Cara gently knocked on the heavy door before pushing it open, not waiting for a response. She was ready to face the music. Lamoreaux sat in an oxblood chair, behind an impossibly large administrative desk. The first thing Cara noticed was the lack of electronics in the office. The room itself was a throwback from the nineteenth century. An antiquated typewriter sat alone on a circular table to his right and even the telephone, albeit multi-lined, was an old fashioned push button style. It instantly reminded Cara of the hidden library.
“Come in.” His voice was flat and he did not look up from the stack of papers her was reading. Cautiously, Cara entered.
“Mr. Lamoreaux, I can explain – “He waved his hand as a gesture of silence. Cara clamped her lips together, feeling a wave of anger. He thinks I’m going to grovel or something. I won’t beg for my job. I didn’t do anything wrong. After a moment, Connor raised his left hand, producing an ink blot pen and in a flurry, began signing the mountain of documents before him, pausing only to dip the wick of the pen into a bottle of black liquid. It took two full minutes and when he had finished, he looked up at Cara.
“Sit down.” She almost refused but thought better of it and sat in a high back wing chair. No need to draw this out with histrionics, she thought rationally. Just get the lecture over so you can get the hell out of here. She fought the urge to stare down at her hands and instead look defiantly at the businessman, anticipating his next words. He did not immediately say anything and to her horror, she found herself beginning to babble before she could stop herself.
“I tried to give them to Tabitha last night but she was talking to the staff so I went to clean up and then Maurice said we were leaving and I would have given them to him but then you and I…” she trailed off, her face reddening to the color of preserved beets. He continued to stare at her, wordlessly, the steel of his eyes cutting into her. She finally she could no longer hold his gaze and looked away.
“When is your birthday?” She looked back up at him, incredulously, certain she had heard him incorrectly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your birthday. Are you a Cancer?” Stunned, she nodded.
“June 23rd,” she replied. “How did you know?”
He shrugged and rose from behind the desk. Despite the seriousness of her circumstances, Cara felt a rush of attraction staring at his limber physique and broad shoulders. She fleetingly wished she could have one more night with him before this ended, thinking of how sexually stimulated she had become under him, atop that cold, metal table. Again, she was ashamed by her thoughts and tried to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.
“Do you have a passport?” Cara was beginning to feel like she was actually dreaming because the conversation did not make any sense whatsoever. Still, she nodded, subtly pinching herself under her leg to be sure she was grounded in reality.
“Do you have a passport here in this house?” Once more, she nodded.
“Go get it. And pack a small bag. Two changes of clothing and toiletries.” Cara opened her mouth to ask a million questions but his piercing eyes indicated that the exchange was done. “Meet me back here at five o’clock tonight. Stay in your quarters until then and please don’t talk to anyone.” And then he left her alone in the old fashioned study, confused and suddenly very wary.
The day was as painfully long as the previous night had been. Every thought imaginable played through Cara’s head. Where is he taking me? Is this a punishment? Do I deserve a punishment? Maybe I should demand to know where we’re going. Yes, I am going to demand an explanation. Of course she did not and at five p.m. that evening Cara was standing in the exact same spot, holding a black duffle bag. She had remained in her suite, undisturbed for the entire day but she had fully expected a visit from Tabitha which never materialized. The woman hates me, Cara realized. I have disappointed her.
In the bag were two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts and a hooded sweater. She had tossed a pair of winter boots inside
in case the fall weather turned suddenly. She was still wearing her work uniform and when Connor noticed the calf length black skirt and white button down blouse, he frowned slightly.
“You didn’t have enough time to change?” he asked, looking her up and down distastefully. She didn’t know how to answer him so she said nothing.
“Never mind. You can change on the plane.”
The words should have sent a fission of alarm through Cara but for some inexplicable reason, she was very calm. Perhaps it was knowing that Connor Lamoreaux wasn’t actually angry at her and as a result, her job was still intact. She assumed that she was traveling with him on one of his business trips so it made sense that she remained in uniform, lest the media turn the business arrangement into some sort of scandal. Or perhaps it was just her guilty conscious which made her think that way. Cara’s research of Lamoreaux had taught her that he was a stickler for maintaining his privacy. There was no way he would cart some Mexican immigrant’s daughter around without a solid explanation for what she was doing there. Cara cleared her throat and stepped forward, ensuring she had his full attention. He glanced at her as she approached the desk, hands outstretched.
“What is that?” he asked as she gently placed the checks on the wood table before him.
“Two of your guests handed these to me last night and I forgot to give them to Tabitha. I didn’t want them to get lost.” Connor peered at the numbers and then looked back at Cara, a speculative expression on his face and opened his mouth to say something but decided against what he had in his mind. Finally, he simply said, “Thank you” and put the endorsements into the top drawer of his desk. Must be nice to be so flippant about holding three hundred and fifty thousand dollars in your hand, she thought but not with nearly the amount of venom she had felt over the past weeks while in the Lamoreaux employ. Suddenly, her boss didn’t seem like such an ogre. More like the big, bad wolf, Cara thought slyly. Connor rose gracefully, scooping up her bag and she blushed furiously as though he had heard her thoughts.
“You have your passport?” he confirmed. Surprised at his action of taking her bag, Cara nodded and followed his long gait out of the room. He turned to the left and she was confused as the hall ended there but before she could open her mouth, Connor had pushed open a hidden fire door she had never noticed and was climbing up a steep set of stairs. They passed a small doorway on a brief landing but Connor continued up the steps, Cara directly in his wake. The treacherous ascent ended at another fire door and Cara could hear the swoosh of the helicopter blades even before the portal opened. She had not known there was a landing pad on the roof but a white, Sikorsky S-76C was fully charged, awaiting its passengers as they embarked upon the asphalt. The pilot hurried over to them, taking Cara’s bag from Connor and ushering them into the cabin. Cara could not believe her eyes. The helicopter’s interior matched its sleek ivory exterior with posh leather upright seats and a small ivory covered cocktail bar. Two flat screen televisions were mounted on either side of the vessel but both were turned off. Slowly, Cara fastened her seatbelt, sitting across from her boss who seemed to be watching her every move with intrigued intensity.
“Where – where are we going?” she asked, timidly, avoiding his eyes.
“The airport,” he answered simply. Cara sighed inwardly. She suspected that getting answers out of him would be a lot like pulling teeth. She would find out soon enough. Still, amidst the mystery surround the sudden trip, she was remarkably trusting of Connor Lamoreaux which was ridiculous because she knew nothing about the man personally. Except that he has incredible eyes, a fantastic mouth and a dick that I could ride all day. Once more, Cara was absolutely shocked by her uncharacteristically dirty thoughts. She had no idea why she was so aroused by this man but he seemed to have a hypnotic effect on her. She found herself tongue tied in his presence like she was a schoolgirl but thinking back, she never remembered feeling so utterly overwhelmed around Damien during their school days. She played anxiously with her hands and looked about the luxurious cabin, purposely avoiding Connor’s intense gaze. Why didn’t I think to bring a book? Her eyes flittered around the aircraft, hoping to find something to read. When her search did not fructify, she slumped back against the seat and closed her eyes, pretending to rest. She was painfully aware that the man was staring at her still. Moments later, she felt the helicopter descend and she was relieved to see they were arriving at the airport. The chopper landed a few hundred feet away from Lamoreaux’s private jet, a Boeing 737. The pilot of the helicopter hurried out to help them out of the vehicle and escort them to another waiting man outside the plane. Without any exchange, the airplane engineer ushered them into the cabin and quickly closed the door, as if someone was hot on their tails. Once inside the sealed chamber, Cara blinked. It was almost identical to the interior of the helicopter but on a grander scale. The décor was the same ivory and onyx with high leather reclining chairs and four televisions mounted on the walls instead of two. It comfortably sat twelve, four seats in three sections facing one another and a four seater wood table with chairs in the center. A wet bar was set up cozily in a small rounded corner and behind it stood a tall, stately woman who reminded Cara of Tabitha for some reason. She was twenty years younger than the housekeeper and she smiled, attentive and nodded in greeting. Upon thinking it, Cara was immediately flooded with guilt. Tabitha! I didn’t even go tell her I was leaving! Lamoreaux had warned her not to speak to anyone before they left but somehow Cara knew that Tabitha was well aware she was long gone and had known she was leaving even before Cara had.
“Are you going to sit down?” Lamoreaux’s voice jolted her even though she had been very aware of his presence. Immediately, she scooted into a seat and buckled her seatbelt as if the plane were taking off from under her feet. She thought she heard him chuckle and she turned her neck to stare at him.
“Are you laughing at me?” she asked before she could stop herself. Then she quickly clamped her mouth together and whipped back around in her seat, wishing she could take the words back. Connor laughed definitively this time.
“Are you always so jumpy?” he asked, taking the seat directly across from her. Cara stared at the floor and angrily wondered why Calamander wood was necessary in an aircraft. She knew her surliness had nothing to do with the ridiculously expensive flooring material. It was the affect which Connor Lamoreaux had upon her making her antsy and uncomfortable. He was waiting for a response to his question.
“You make me nervous,” she blurted out, again wondering what was wrong with her. Do you have Tourette’s Syndrome? She yelled internally. Stop talking!
“I make a lot of people nervous,” Connor replied, sitting casually back in his chair, propping an alligator shoe over his black pant leg. “But usually they have just cause to feel that way. Do you have cause to feel nervous, Ms. Castillo?” Cara shook her head quickly but then looked up at him.
“I hope you don’t think I’m just going to sleep with you anytime now because of last night,” she announced, matter-of-factly. As the words left her lips, she could not believe she had actually spoken them. Connor’s face lapsed into a deep scowl and out of the corner of her eye, Cara realized the flight attendant was listening to their conversation. What the hell is wrong with you? Stop talking! Stop talking! Stop talking!
“Did I suggest such a thing?” Connor snapped. “Why would you even say something like that?”
Miserably Cara shook her head, asking herself the same question. She had struck a nerve. If there was one thing that Connor Lamoreaux valued the most, it was his privacy and Cara had just said something completely indiscrete in front of a total stranger. A part of her secretly hope he would ask her to get off the plane. Of course he did not. Sullenly, he flipped on a television and put it onto CNN. He popped on a headset and she knew it wasn’t out of courtesy for her. He was blatantly ignoring her presence. Cara tried to make herself as small as possible, wishing she could disappear. She looked around the cabin for something with which
to entertain herself when the handsome attendant tapped her on the shoulder and offered her a glass of champagne. Gratefully and without thinking twice, Cara accepted and downed it in one sip. She noticed that Connor Lamoreaux was watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“Another one, please,” she demanded, defiantly. Well if he’s going to drag me around and ignore me, I’m going to enjoy myself. But Cara had a feeling she was going to regret her decision. The woman nodded and returned with a second crystal goblet.
“We’ll be taking off in a couple of minutes. Your own headset is here with the remote control. You will find movies, music and television shows on the screen,” she informed Cara, pointing the armrest at her side. “My name is Zoe. Let me know if there is anything you need.” As soon as Zoe disappeared to the cockpit, Cara followed Connor’s lead and flicked on the t.v. She found a new release comedy movie she had been interested in seeing and put the seat back, sipping on the bubbly liquid. When Zoe returned a moment later, Cara lowered the headphones.
“How long of a flight is it?” she asked, hearing the jets rev.
“Fourteen hours,” Zoe replied, taking her seat. Gasping, Cara turned to look at her boss. Fourteen hours from here is the ends of the earth! Where is he taking me? Connor Lamoreaux was still watching the television but as Cara looked up, she realized that now he was smiling.
“Can you get me another one?” she asked Zoe, gesturing at the glass.
Chapter Six
Not long after they had taken off, Cara fell asleep. Perhaps it had been in the incredibly long days she had been working or the effect of the alcohol but without even realizing, she was breathing deeply, curled into that too comfortable leather chair. In her dream, she was flying. Not flying in the plane but outside of the jet, arms wide, winding through the clouds like she was a bird, weightless and free. The aircraft was beside her and Connor Lamoreaux was watching her through one of the windows, only the cotton soft clouds between her blazing emerald eyes and his metallic blue ones.
Romance: Pummel Me: A Boxing Romance Page 51