Dating Games(46)

Camille leads me past a curving staircase and into an open living area. The cream-colored walls have wood and stone accents, the high-end furniture made of heavy wood. It’s a stark contrast to the tiny room and pull-out couch I’ve been sleeping on, which seems ready to collapse if I breathe too hard.

“This is the living and informal dining area.” She brings me to an expanse of floor-to-ceiling windows lining the eastern wall and I take in the panoramic views of the pool deck overlooking the ocean. I find it a bit of overkill to have both an ocean view and a pool, but what do I know?

“Wow.” It’s all I can manage.

I’ve seen places like this in the movies or online, but never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined being here myself. It’s crazy to even consider that this will be my life for the next two months. I wonder if this is how Cinderella felt when Prince Charming whisked her away to his castle after he finally found her. Did she realize her life would be forever changed when she called her Fairy Godmother and went to the ball? Is my life about to be forever changed, too?

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Camille comments.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so…majestic.”

She places a hand on my bicep, her smile warm as she meets my eyes. Her soft-spoken and caring demeanor reminds me of my grandmother. “Wait until tomorrow morning.”

“What’s tomorrow morning?”

“Sunrise. I checked the weather report. It’s supposed to be a clear day, which means the sun coming up over that horizon…” She points out the window, “is sure to be fantastic. If you want to get up early to watch, I’ll make sure to have coffee prepared. If you like coffee, that is. I’ll need a list of any allergies and food preferences, as well as any other items you’ll need on hand during your time here.”

“And you’ll get them for me?”

“Of course,” she answers, as if it’s no big deal.

“So if I say I like to snack on apples dipped in peanut butter, you’d get them?”

“What kind of apples? And do you have a preference for brand of peanut butter?” She withdraws a notepad from her suit jacket and proceeds to jot down notes.

I blink repeatedly at her proficiency. The closest I’ve ever been to this level of pampering was the one time I’d ordered room service. I thought having someone bring food to my hotel room was magical. That’s nothing compared to this.

“I… It was just an example.”

With a warm smile, she returns the small notepad to her pocket. “It’s Mr. Gage’s desire that you have everything to make your stay comfortable. So anything you need, please let myself or any of the other staff members know. Okay?”

“Okay.” With every second that passes, I feel more and more like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Well, if she weren’t a prostitute. Still, there are similarities, like the way she gawks at his lavish lifestyle, not used to anyone waiting on her. The way she’s confused about which fork to use. I can completely sympathize with her struggle there.

I continue to follow Camille as she shows me the formal dining room, library, theater room, game room, and even a gym. I want to ask for a floor plan of the house so I can find my way around. Or at least a bag of breadcrumbs.

Finally, we head up the staircase and down a long hallway lined with what I assume to be expensive artwork, coming to a stop outside a wooden door. When she opens it, revealing a large bedroom, I step onto the lush carpet. The aroma of fresh air mixed with the sea breeze flows in from an open window, and I walk to the far wall, the views of the ocean just as breathtaking up here.

“There’s a balcony,” Camille offers as she strides toward a pair of French doors, pushing them open. “Right out here.”

I follow her out onto a large wrap-around balcony. A pair of chairs sits in front of the windows to my room, a small side table placed between them. Another pair is placed several hundred feet down, as well, in front of windows to what I assume to be another bedroom.

“That’s Mr. Gage’s suite,” she explains, gesturing toward the end of the balcony to the north. Then she nods in the opposite direction. “And those are additional guest bedrooms, but will not be occupied during, well…during your little arrangement.”

“Our…arrangement?” I repeat, making sure I heard her correctly.

“Yes, dear. Don’t worry. I’m the only one aware of the truth, other than Reed, of course. It was my idea, after all, although my motivation may not have been completely innocent.”

I square my shoulders as I face her. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been on the household staff longer than you’ve been alive, dear.” She smiles. “Even longer than Julian’s been alive.”

There’s a familial affection in her tone as she caresses his name, like a mother would her child. It’s the first time she’s referred to him as Julian instead of Mr. Gage. I can’t help wondering if their relationship is more than employer and employee.

“I see things. I hear things. Mr. Price’s children are still around, and they like to make things difficult for him, unduly influencing people who can help him. It’s been several years since Mr. Price’s passing, but no thanks to his children, who like to perpetuate the rumor that Mr. Gage took advantage of an old man, people still view him as a billionaire playboy, a passing fad who will end up blowing his fortune. Regardless, being around so long, you hear things. Many people’s biggest criticism is that he’s thirty-eight and isn’t married. So I suggested he finally date someone.”