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I had to admire her spirit when I tried again to pay her off. She was young and naïve, but she was strong and determined. She was also an enigma. There had to be a story there. The best I could tell was that she didn’t have a very good upbringing.
I tried to work out all my frustration in the gym with a five-mile run on the treadmill and then strength training, but it didn’t work. After my workout, in the shower, images of the night before filtered into my brain. I’d seen the surprise and disappointment in Sara’s when she realized I put her in the guest room. I felt bad about, and yet, I couldn’t have her getting any notions that this was going to be a real marriage. I wanted her to feel comfortable in my home, but not in my bed. That probably made me an asshole, but she knew what she was getting into.
I dressed in casual slacks and a shirt, and headed out to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Mr. Raven,” my housekeeper, who also cooked for me, said. She stood over the stove making omelettes.
“Good morning, Mrs. Childs.”
“I’ve got omelets and bacon this morning. Shall I bring you coffee first?”
“I’ve got it,” I said pouring from the carafe of coffee she’d already made. “I’ll be out on the terrace.”
“Very good, sir.”
I made my way to the terrace. The sun was up, but the day wasn’t too hot or humid yet. I pulled out my tablet and began to check emails. I’d answered three and ignored a dozen more when movement at the French doors had me look up. Sara stood in the doorway in her robe, her light brown tresses pulled up into a messy bun on her head. I had the urge to tug her robe off and fuck her on the table. Instead I set the tablet down, reminding myself this was a business deal.
“Should I make you something?” she asked.
Jesus, did she think I expected her to wait on me? I shook my head. “No. I’ve got someone who takes care of cooking and domestic duties.” I nodded toward a chair on the opposite side of the table. “Why don’t you join me. Did you sleep alright?”
“Fine.” Her tone suggested that her night was fraught with unrest as mine was.
The door opened and Mrs. Childs came out carrying a tray. I’d told her earlier in the week that Sara would be with me although I was a big vague about the details.
“Good morning, Miss,” she said to Sara setting an omelet in front of her.
“Oh my this looks and smells delicious. Thank you.” Sara ogled her plate of food like she’d never seen anything like it.
“You’re welcome. Would you like coffee or orange juice?” Mrs. Child’s asked Sara as he she put my plate in front of me.
“Coffee.. Oh… do you have tea?”
“Yes, miss. I’ll get that right away. Mr. Raven, do you need anything?”
“No, thank you Mrs. Childs.”
She went back into the house.
“I think coffee is bad for babies,” Sara said in a low voice.
It reminded me that it was possible she was pregnant and my stomach clenched. Seriously Chase, what the fuck are you thinking?
“Wow, this is delicious,” she said taking a bite of her omelet.
I studied Sara, trying to figure out her contradictions. She was smart, hard-working, and clearly daring when it came to moving up in the world. At the same time, she was innocent and unworldly. I found myself more fascinated by her than was probably wise.
I asked her about coming to New York the night before, but hadn’t gotten much of an answer.
“Tell me more about your coming to New York,” I said, lifting my fork to eat my omelet.
She shrugged. “Like I said, I’m just trying to get ahead.”
“Your internship is through your college on Staten Island but you told me before you might want to transfer schools?”
She looked up at me. “Have you ever wanted more from life? Or to get away from your life?”
Often, I thought. “What are you getting away from? Is there something in your past that I should know about?”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “I don’t understand how you can think I’m innocent and naive, and then say you’re worried that something in my past will harm your reputation.”
“I never said that.” Although I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered about it. “I’m just trying to get to know you.”
“Why? This is just a business deal.”
Mrs. Childs appeared with another tray that had a pot of hot water, a delicate tea cup from a set I inherited from my mother, and a wooden box filled with tea.
“Will there be anything else?”
“Not right now, Mrs. Childs. Thank you.” I dismissed her.
When she returned to the apartment, I said to Sara, “If you don’t want to tell me your history, just say so.”
