walk away from him, she anxiously waited to hear what he would say next.
“Meet me here tonight at midnight and I’ll prove to you I can stimulate your mind as well as your body.” He walked away from her for the second time, while she memorized the view of his tall, muscular backside and focused on it even after he disappeared from her view.
2
Jordan turned his thoughts to his grandfather. It was the best way to make his hard-on disappear so he could walk through the castle and not risk any of the staff catching him with a raging boner. He pulled open the heavy door leading into the back hallway, immediately dragging the smells from the kitchen into his lungs.
“Excuse me, folks. Would you mind bringing me coffee and something to snack on,” he asked, his announcement causing the two people in the kitchen, an older man and woman, to jump to attention.
“Yes, Mr. Anton,” the older woman said, her Irish brogue a friendly sound as she quickly wiped her plump hands on her apron. “Would you like me to push supper back until later this evening? Or does seven P.M. suit you, sir?”
Jordan didn’t pause, heading across the kitchen and toward the hallway to the stairs. “Whatever you arrange with my social organizer is fine with me,” he called over his shoulder. “Coffee would be great. Maybe a shot of whiskey.” He hit the stairs before suggesting they bring him the entire bottle.
He would give this much to his grandfather, he thought, running his hand over the smooth wooden banister while he headed up the wide staircase to the second floor. The castle was impressive as hell. Only Grandfather Anton would be able to sniff out a rock like this island and turn it into such a captivating paradise. He reminded himself it was still a prison, Grandfather’s idea of an isolated sanctuary where he could take his time and convince Jordan to behave the way Grandfather Anton believed Jordan should.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, he took in the long, wide hallway before him. There were a handful of closed doors on either side, spread apart enough from each other that very large, heavy-looking old pictures didn’t clutter the walls. The floor was carpeted in a thick forest green, which possibly covered an old stone floor that Jordan would have found more appealing and appropriate in keeping with the natural setting of the old castle. He walked down the hallway, aware that his footsteps didn’t make a sound, and how easy that would make it for someone to leave his room at any time and not make their presence known to anyone else in the castle.
Jordan’s room was the first door on the left, the room he’d chosen for himself after inspecting each of them this morning. Letting himself in, he felt the change of temperature quickly from having left his balcony doors open earlier. Leaving his bedroom door ajar for the servant, he walked across the room, which was large enough to be a studio apartment and not just a bedroom. The king-sized bed would look a hell of a lot more appealing if he weren’t planning on sleeping in it alone tonight. Pausing at the large mahogany desk that faced the open doors to the balcony, Jordan booted up his laptop, which he’d placed in front of the computer already provided for him in the room. There was no way he’d use that thing. Jordan wouldn’t put it past Grandfather Anton to install tracking devices on it. There were cameras all over the island. So far, the barn seemed the only place not heavily monitored. He looked up at the piece of duct tape on the ceiling, covering the security camera discreetly hidden there. It was still in place. Jordan had agreed to spend the next month here. He hadn’t agreed to having his every action monitored and scrutinized while here.
He pressed the power button at the same time someone rapped on the door. “Sir? Your coffee?” the older woman with the Irish brogue announced herself.
“Come in.” He sat down, aching to tell her she could drop the formalities around him. Jordan had lived two years now without being treated like he was royalty, and he hadn’t missed it a bit. “Will you set it on the table, please?”
She gave him a curious look before placing the large round tray, which couldn’t be light but that she handled with ease, where he asked. “Miss Stone confirmed dinner at seven,” she offered, pouring coffee from a white porcelain pot into a tall, slender matching cup and then bringing it to him. “She’s approved a delicious menu. Your grandfather arranged for the kitchen to be generously stocked. I know you’ll love the meals she’s lined up during your stay here. Miss Stone is a charming young lady, wouldn’t you say?”
One thing Jordan had learned at an early age, growing up in a house staffed with more servants than there was family, was that servants seldom rambled on with idle conversation because they were bored.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he said, ignoring her question, although unsure that charming would be the best adjective to describe Miss Stone. Seductive, alluring, and most definitely a challenge he meant to conquer came to mind. The staff wouldn’t gather information from him to use to piece together a soap opera over the next few weeks while they watched him being forced into an engagement he had no intention of being part of. More than likely there was already speculation on whether he’d fuck both women while he was supposed to be here to get to know only one of them.
“Forgive me, Master Anton. Everyone calls me Cook. Your grandfather has called me Cook for as long as I remember. My given name is Anne Marie Francis Margaret McGillicutty. When I worked for him in Arizona the nickname came about and it’s stuck ever since.”
“I see why he calls you Cook.” Jordan grinned and noticed color wash over her plump cheeks.
“Now, if you don’t look just like your grandfather did twenty years ago,” she chirped, winking at Jordan.
It would have been more like forty years, since his grandfather was seventy and Jordan was thirty, but he didn’t correct her math.
Cook moved to Jordan’s bed, fluffing pillows. “And I hear we’re expecting royalty tomorrow. Do you know what time we’re to be receiving your pretty fiancée?”
The icons on Jordan’s laptop appeared on the screen as Jordan considered correcting Cook. Part of his grandfather’s stipulations were that everyone believe he’d met Princess Tory Alixandre prior to coming to this island, and Jordan wouldn’t be the first one to break the rules.
“I believe she’ll be here at noon,” he said, although he would bet Cook already knew that. “Do you have her wing ready for her?”
Part of the conditions Princess Tory insisted on while staying on this island were that she have private quarters, and that her servants have rooms next to hers.
“All the rooms were cleaned before we arrived but I haven’t inspected her wing yet. It will be ready before she gets here. We just arrived here ourselves yesterday,” Cook added quickly, returning to the tray she’d brought up. Her back was to Jordan as plates clinked against each other. “So how did the two of you meet?” she asked, apparently planning on pressing Jordan for as much personal information as she could.
“On an island.” He grinned at her again when she stopped, facing him with a plate in hand, and let out a delighted sigh as she misinterpreted his answer. “How many servants are here?” He turned the conversation once again and decided at the same time he was ready for Cook to leave.
“If that isn’t the most romantic thing,” Cook cooed, placing condiments next to a plate with a sandwich and fresh fruit. “And there is just me and Jesse here but don’t you worry. Oh, and Sara. They say she’s been on this island for years.”
“That’s a very small staff of servants.”
“It’s
