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“As my wife,” Santiago continued, “Belle will be in charge of the house, so please teach her everything she needs to know.” He glanced at the butler. “I’m relying on you, Jones.”
“Of course, sir,” the butler intoned, but the sideways glance he threw Belle was far from friendly. I’m sure we’ll be friends in no time, she told herself, but she felt more ill at ease than ever.
“That’s all for now. You may go,” Santiago said. After the staff departed, he looked down at her and said softly, “I’ll show you around your new home.”
He drew her down the hallway of the mansion. The ceilings were high, with molded plaster and chandeliers. Their footsteps echoed on the hardwood and marble floors, walking past walls with oak paneling and stone fireplaces. “How old is this house?”
“Not very. It was built in 1899.”
“That’s older than my whole hometown,” she replied in awe. “And three employees actually live here? Doesn’t that feel weird, having your butler around when you’re slacking on the sofa in sweatpants, eating chips and watching football on TV?”
He gave a brief smile. “The staff have their own quarters in the evenings. On the fifth floor.”
“The fifth? How many floors are there?”
“Seven, if you include the basement.”
“This isn’t a house, it’s a skyscraper!”
His smile spread to a grin. “Come on.”
Belle’s eyes got bigger as he showed her the rest of the house, from the wine cellar and home theater in the basement, to the ballroom—“but it’s small, for a ballroom”—on the main floor, through five guest bedrooms and nine bathrooms.
“Why so many bathrooms?” she said curiously. “Is it so when one gets dirty, you don’t need to bother cleaning it, but can just move on to the next one?”
He gave her a crooked half grin. “That’s not necessary. The staff takes good care of us. Let me show you my second favorite place in this house.”
He led her onto the elevator, causing Belle to exclaim in wonder, “You have your own elevator?”, and pressed the button for the roof. As she walked out into the warm, humid July night, she gasped.
A rooftop pool was illuminated bright blue, with lounge chairs and cabanas surrounded by flowers and plants. But the real star was the view. As they stood on the rooftop, fifty-floor skyscrapers surrounded them, shining brightly.
Going to the edge of the railing, Belle saw, far below, the noise and traffic of the street. There was only one dark spot, directly to the left: Central Park.
“Wow,” she breathed, then looked at Santiago. “If this is only your second favorite part of the house, what’s your first?”
His eyes were dark, his voice low. “I’ll show you.”
He led her back to the elevator, and pressed the button for the third floor, which she realized she hadn’t seen at all yet. The elevator door opened on a small foyer. Beyond that was a single door.
“What’s this?” she asked.
His hooded eyes looked at her. “Open the door.”
Hesitantly, she obeyed. Behind her, he turned on the light.
She saw an enormous spartan bedroom, bigger than even the one in Texas. It had an enormous bed and a wall of windows covered with translucent curtains. There was a sitting area with a reading chair, a vanity table, a wet bar and a small library of books. Peeking into two side doors, she saw a large wood-paneled walk-in closet filled with dark suits, and an en suite bathroom in chrome and marble. The bathroom was so expensively minimalist that even the towels were tucked away.
Though this bedroom suite was huge and elegant, she didn’t see what could possibly make it more spectacular than the rooftop pool. Frowning, she turned back in puzzlement. “Your bedroom?”
He nodded.
“What do you love so much about it?”
Coming forward, he put his hands on her shoulders, his eyes alight. “That you’ll be in it.”
Belle shivered, remembering the heat and passion they’d shared at the Texas ranch. She wasn’t hypocritical enough to pretend that the thought disgusted her. She bit her lip. “What would the staff think?”
He looked amused. “That I’d share my room with my pregnant fiancée? You think this will shock them?” He gave a low laugh. “Ah, querida, you are such an innocent. The servants think what I pay them to think.”
