AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I turn to the sound of a familiar voice, my smile widening. “Gladys?”
“That’s me. It’s so good to meet you in person at last!”
Gladys, the live-in housekeeper, looks exactly like I have always pictured her from our phone conversations. She has steely gray hair, curled and trimmed short around her head, a kindly smile, and she’s dressed like Mary Poppins, down to her low-heeled pumps and black tights. Another staff member appears, taking my luggage from the driver. Gladys ignores them all, steering me into the house.
“I’m afraid you have little time to get settled in. They’re all gathering for drinks. But you’ll want to freshen up before you walk into the lion’s den, so I’ll show you up to your room.”
I follow her, my heels tapping on the flagged stone of the entryway, and up the highly polished main wooden staircase. It curves and totally matches Gladys’ Mary Poppins vibes. She beams at me over her shoulder as we summit the landing, moving along the hallway. It’s cozy, with dark paneling and wallpaper, and almost medieval wall lamps lighting the space as the sun sets outside. It took a minute in London to get used to the sun setting at 4PM, but it’s growing on me.
“This is you. Mr. Westerhaven is in the master suite at the stables end of the house, and the others are scattered around in their preferred bedrooms.”
I follow her inside, looking around with interest. It’s smaller than I had imagined, but then again, anything is going to seem small after spending the last four years in and out of Bill’s various houses in America. They’re ridiculously big. While small, it’s nice. There is a comfortable-looking antique double bed, and the room has a freakingfireplacewith a fire going. It’s so adorable and cozy and completely how I imagined every bedroom inThe Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. This whole place is pretty much how I pictured that book.
“Everyone is gathering in the main drawing room for drinks before dinner, Miss Shepherd. I would suggest you change and make your way down directly. If you need to freshen up, the closest bathroom is across the hall.” Gladys nods, leaving the room, the wood-paneled door closing firmly behind her.
Okay. I’ve arrived. Now, to start mingling with a bunch of billionaires. Ha. Breathing out, I catch sight of myself in an antique full-length mirror near the door. I thought I looked good in my cashmere sweater, wide-legged trousers, and pumps, but I don’t think it’sdinnerattire. They neatly stacked my bags beside the door, so I might as well unpack while I’m here.
Hefting the largestLouis Vuittonsuitcase onto the bed, I flip it open and breathe a massive sigh of relief. My personal shoppingangel, Luka, packed my bags for me, and he’s gone and provided me with a cheat sheet. A little booklet with a photograph of every outfit and when/where I should wear it. The man is one hundred percent my fairy godmother right now.
I quickly empty my luggage. I’m supposed to be here for almost five weeks because rich people know how to vacation, amiright? Once the bags are stowed inside each other and under the bed, I wash my face in the little old-fashioned washstand (so cute) and look at the dresses marked “dinner”. Okay.
According to Luka, “dinner” is not a ball gown type affair but a cocktail dress one. I pick out a teal lace dress with a high neck and long sleeves, with cute silver buttons down the front. It has a ruffled hem, finishing just above my knees, and I slip on black stockings, and suede stiletto pumps, like Luka’s cheat sheet says. He suggests a chignon to go with it and dangly silver earrings. What the hell is a chignon? Thankfully, I have cell service out here, opening YouTube and tapping around to find what I need. A five-minute video later, I know a chignon is just a sleek bun low on the back of my head. That I can do, and the jewelry bag he’s included has some cute silver earrings, so I throw them on as well. Here goes nothing.
Luckily, Gladys is waiting in the entry hall when I glide down the stairs, having my very ownDownton Abbeymoment. When in Rome, hey. She beams at me, nodding approvingly. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks. It’s appropriate, right?”
“It’s perfect.” Gladys gestures for me to follow her through a large medieval wooden doorway, and along another hallway, this one wider, with flagged stone flooring to match the entryway. “You’re the last one to arrive for drinks. Dinner will be served in under an hour.”
I leave Gladys with a smile as she holds open a door off the hallway for me, stepping inside a little apprehensive. Okay. A “drawing room” is just a fancy living room with antique furniture, a massive stone fireplace, and freaking chandeliers. No big deal. It could fit a lot more people than are currently here, but they somehow manage to project that the space is absolutely full, and I’m an intruder. That’s fun.
The entire room goes silent as they all turn to look at me. I should so totally not be here. I’m way out of my depth. Thankfully, Bill quickly crosses the room to plant a kiss on each of my cheeks. Bill is a bit of a silver fox, and sometimes I like to pretend that he’s my dad.
Maybe it’s sad, but I never had a dad, so sue me. Turning to the room at large, he gestures to each of his nephews. I’ve known about them for years, and yet somehow, have never met them. I have emailed their secretaries and assistants, but never spoken to them in person. Of course, I also studied their files back in London. The pictures there did not do them justice. They are all ridiculously good-looking. And rich. Because, of course, they are. Life is so freaking unfair sometimes.
I’m super good at my job, which often involves accompanying Bill to events and dinners, reminding him who people are before he meets them. Since I’m now in survival mode, I fall back on my professional talent to keep me grounded. My mind whirs to life, running through their files. They’re no different from any other business acquaintances of Bill’s. I just need to keep reminding myself of that.
There are five of them. And as Bill places a hand on the middle of my back, he gestures to each.
“Tim.” Timothy Brooks Westerhaven is the eldest of the five and sits on the board ofHaven Freight, Bill’s massive global shipping company. He’s thirty-one and lives in San Diego, where the company has its head offices. His parents are Bill’s brother Arthur, and his wife, Janet Brooks Westerhaven. He watches me with his dreamy eyes, and it's like I can see the cogs whirring behind them. He’s trying to figure out who I am, and why I’m intruding on their family vacation. Yikes. He's one to watch out for. He could blow this whole operation of Bill’s if I’m not careful.
“David.” Timothy’s younger brother is standing beside him. He doesn’t look assessing; he looks bored at my arrival. David Brooks Westerhaven, is twenty-nine. He lives in New York, where he sits on the board ofHaven Property, which owns hotels and shopping malls all over the world, among other properties. Bill hesitates as his outstretched whiskey glass hovers in the direction of the gorgeous brunette clinging to David’s arm. If my dress is perfectly appropriate, she’s super underdressed. Her tight, second skin of a dress barely brushes her thighs.
“Robin,” David interjects with an eye roll. I guess he’s used to Bill not remembering his date’s names. Still, he’s brought her on a five-week vacation, it has to be serious. There would have been a background check… Robin Vernon. The other two women will be Sarah Villarreal and Tiffany Stone.
“Of course, Robin. Max.” He’s moved on to the other group standing across the room. Maxwell Anders Westerhaven, on the board ofHaven Financial,is the son of Harold and his wife, Sharon Anders Westerhaven. He’s also based in New York sinceHaven Financial’soffices are on Wall Street.
“Tiffany,” Maxwell cheerfully interjects as Bill’s hand passes across his date without slowing. So, the other dark-haired guy must be Maxwell’s twin, Beaumont Anders Westerhaven, who lives in Seattle, where he is on the board ofHaven Publishing, one of the biggest publishing firms in the world.
“Beau, Ryan.” That would be Ryan Pierce Westerhaven, son of Bill’s youngest brother, Gordon, and his wife, Kelly Pierce Westerhaven. He lives in Los Angeles and sits on the board ofHaven Pharmaceuticals. Like David, he’s twenty-nine, and the youngest of the five.
“And Sarah,” Ryan notes, winking at his uncle as he takes a deep drink of his whiskey. Sarah preens like she’s on a catwalk. Oh, she’s going to be fun. I think the most interesting thing in all this is that Maxwell, Ryan, and David have all brought dates. To afive-week-long family vacation. I hope they’re all in long-term relationships because otherwise, that’s some serious commitment to be throwing out there for a Tinder date. But, of course, Bill’s not done with the introductions yet. He gestures to me, his hand still firmly fixed to the middle of my back.
“This is Angie. I hope everyone will make her feel welcome.”
Typical of Bill, he gives absolutely no explanation for who I am or why I’m here. They’re all staring at me again. Oh god. They’re all going to think that I’m his mistress. Holy sweet hell. I’m frozen in place as eyes drop to take in my outfit. Are they thinking about me having sex with Bill? Gross. I wish the floor would open and swallow me whole. Finally, the awkward silence is broken from across the room.
“Are you Scottish? You look Scottish?” Ryan’s date, a runway model with perfect blonde hair and a Southern drawl, asks me. I blink at her. How does someone look Scottish?
