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Ethan.
It was the same excuse for his lack of concentration all week.
He’d get a few hours of work done and find himself staring off into space, wondering where Ethan was in the house, what he was working on, if he had any questions. And then he’d find himself standing, his hand gripping the doorknob, thinking he’d just go check on Ethan to see if he needed anything.
But this was running counter to the entire reason he hired Ethan in the first place. He didn’t want to deal with the move. He didn’t want to worry about the logistics of getting all his accumulated possessions from South Carolina to Connecticut. That was Ethan’s job.
As far as he could tell, Ethan was doing fine on his own. Two minutes after eight each day, Marcus would wander out of his self-imposed isolation to look over the room or rooms Ethan had been working in. He’d find towers of stacked boxes, taped and labeled with Ethan’s neat letters made with a black marker. Sometimes he’d find a scrap of paper with a few hastily scribbled notes Ethan had left for himself. The air would carry with it a hint of Ethan’s sweat and lingering touch of soap. Something minty and soft that made Marcus wonder if it was his shampoo.
Otherwise the young man was a ghost who flew in and out of his house with little sound or evidence of his presence. Marcus had even started checking the fridge and pantry to see if he ate anything. He briefly thought that if he noticed Ethan liking something in particular, he could have his housekeepers bring more of it.
Marcus snapped his book shut and sighed. This was ridiculous. When Amy had been his assistant, he’d not been distracted by her presence in his house. He’d promptly forgotten about her existence, leaving her to handle all his daily needs with Janice.
But Ethan was different, with his shiny blond hair and crooked smile and his talk of Marcus’s great-aunt Gertrude. He was never quite sure what was going to come out of Ethan’s mouth with his pink lips parted, and Marcus found himself looking forward to those unexpected words.
Chiming from the grandfather clock in the hall whispered through the door. It was five o’clock. Ethan had only a few more hours of work, and then he’d slip quietly out of the house and not return again until Monday. Marcus didn’t want Ethan to leave without at least speaking to him once more.
Dinner was eaten by some people at five o’clock. He could order food to be delivered. And he could see if Ethan wanted anything to eat. They could share a meal. That wasn’t strange. Since it was Ethan’s first week of work, it would also be a way of welcoming him. He could check to see if Ethan was having any problems or had any questions.
Yes, that was a responsible employer thing to do.
So what if it meant that he could secretly enjoy the sweetness of Ethan’s voice? Or hear his bubbling laughter?
It didn’t matter if he’d never done this with any of his past assistants.
Ethan was…
To hell with it. He didn’t need excuses to speak to Ethan or go where he wanted in his own house. No one else would ever know. Especially not his nosy brothers.
Setting the book down on the small table at his elbow, Marcus rose smoothly to his feet and left his private library on the third floor.
Ethan had been working on some of the storage rooms on the fourth floor. Most things were still boxed up there, but there had been a few items placed on shelves that needed to be reboxed and labeled. Marcus quickly passed through the rooms to find them empty. Ethan had completed his work there. Everything was neatly organized and stacked for the moving company that would arrive in a little more than a month to haul it all out of his house.
He returned to the third floor, but Ethan wasn’t anywhere to be found. Of course, most of the rooms on the third floor were Marcus’s private rooms and locked against Ethan’s entry.
His heart sped up a little as he descended to the second floor, trying to find evidence of where Ethan was working, if not the man himself. He tried to remind himself that Ethan could have run out for some supplies or was on the ground floor in the kitchen, grabbing food already. Which would be his luck. He’d miss his chance to share a meal with Ethan because he’d not told him earlier of his intention.
Pausing with his hand on the railing, he tried to decide whether to head straight to the first floor or check the second when he heard Ethan’s voice at the end of the hall. He…he sounded like he was singing. Marcus turned toward the sound, the first hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. Ethan was singing, though he couldn’t yet identify the song.
