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“Oh.”
He stepped aside and gave her a slight bow. “Do please come in. Let me show you to your room.”
“Okay,” Sam said breathlessly. Butler. They got a butler. “Thank you.”
Nigel’s gaze cut to her luggage. “Let me help you with that.” He snatched the heavy bag with the agility of a man half his age. The butler was stronger than he looked.
“Thank you again.”
“My pleasure. Please, follow me.”
Dual grand staircases leading to the second floor greeted her sight. An enormous crystal chandelier hung between the staircases, illuminating a round, glass table that sported a huge vase filled with long-stemmed roses. A gold and caramel colour-theme splashed throughout the interiors, from the pristine marble floor to the padded wall-covering, shades, and draperies. Sam mouthed ‘whoa’. She had never been privileged to go inside a rich man’s house before.
Nigel paused. “Your room is on the second floor, Ms Knight.”
“Okay. Thank you.” That was the third time she’d thanked him in less than five minutes. Sam hoped Nigel wouldn’t think she was ditzy white trash with a limited vocabulary. She didn’t know what to chitchat about with somebody she’d just met. She wasn’t a social butterfly. Besides, butlers weren’t usually chatty, were they? They were serious, impassive, tight-assed people like the ones she had seen on TV.
Sam followed Nigel. As soon as they reached the second floor, the butler led her to the left, into a long hallway. Her room was the third door.
Her jaw dropped when she saw her accommodation. Tall ceilings. Arched windows. More cream-coloured marble dominating the floor and walls. Perched in the middle of the room was a four-poster bed with crisp, white linen bedding. The furniture in her room matched the mansion’s colour scheme. Light-grained woods carved in intricate details with gold inlay. Luxuriously upholstered sofa and benches. More antique knick-knacks graced the armoire and tables. Sam made a mental note not to touch anything. If she broke something in this place, she was sure as hell she wouldn’t be able to pay for it.
Nigel carefully put her bags at the foot of the bed. “Mr Hauser will be with you momentarily.”
“Thank you, Mr Burford.”
“Please, call me Nigel.” He bowed his head and silently withdrew from the room with the grace of a swan.
The door was closed, leaving Sam free to gawk.
She inspected the adjoining rooms, which turned out to be a bathroom and a walk-in closet. The bathroom was bigger than her home in Indiana and a thousand times nicer. It had a deep, claw-footed tub—its faucet glimmered as if it was made from solid gold. Sam poked around with the curiosity of a fickle cat. The walk-in closet was spacious and looked like one of the high-end designer boutique showrooms she’d seen in downtown Chicago. The walls were lined with empty shelves for shoes and rows of unused hangers. A vanity with three-fold mirrors sat elegantly against one wall. The vanity top was carved from the same pristine marble that was the signature of this mansion, and the bench in front of it was upholstered in a rich, gold fleur-de-lis print fabric.
“Do you find everything satisfactory?” A voice startled her from her gawking.
Sam jumped.
She swivelled at the closet door and blushed. A handsome man dressed in a black designer suit leaned against the doorframe. He was tall. Six-foot-nine or ten or something. He was athletically fit with a broad chest, powerful shoulders, slim waist, and long legs. His golden-coppery hair was cut very short, military style. The man seemed to be in his early thirties. His eyes were an unusual shade of amber and his smile was dazzling.
“It’s amazing.” Sam quickly recovered and stuck out her hand. “Hello. I’m Samantha Knight.”
The man shook her hand, but didn’t let her go. “I’m Adam Hauser. Nice to finally meet you.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Y-you’re Adam Hauser?”
“In the flesh. Were you expecting somebody else?”
Her cheeks flushed instantly. She hadn’t expected one of her employers to be this…young and stunning. She thought she would be entertaining a bunch of middle-aged corporate fat cats. Wasn’t it that kind of man who usually could afford this lavish lifestyle? “No, sir. I just had no idea what you looked like.”
Adam let go of her hand and quirked his lips into a faint smile. “What did you expect I’d look like?”
Sam paused to think. She decided to be honest. Brown nosing wasn’t her forte. “Fat. Balding. Twice my age.”
A gleam of amusement twinkled in his eyes. “Are you disappointed?”
She cringed. Is he kidding me? “No, sir,” she answered in a small voice.
His faint smile turned into a leer. Adam crooked a finger in her direction, motioning her to follow. “Have a seat. I want to you give you a quick rundown.”
“Sir.”
