Читать книгу Seduction Island - Lorie O'Clare - Страница 8

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 how your grandfather wishes it,” she said, pushing out her ample chest. Cook didn’t meet his gaze but instead surveyed his food and then turned her attention to his room. Walking over to the open doors to the balcony, she closed them and then searched for her next task. “The Princess is bringing her own servants who I’m told will take care of her wing while she’s here. I’ve got the kitchen and the cleaning and Jesse will help me when I need it as well as chauffeur and maintain the yard.”

“Chauffeur? Where would he drive anyone? There isn’t a town or anyone else on this island, for that matter.”

“If you and your lovely fiancée want a drive to enjoy the island, Jesse will do it,” she insisted.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He thought about asking who was in charge of the horses but was ready for Cook to leave. She would stay and answer his questions all day, all the while searching for more information, if he didn’t dismiss her.

It was his turn to get some answers, and for that, he needed to be alone. “And I’ll be downstairs promptly at seven,” he told her, turning to his laptop.

Cook took the hint, picking up the tray and heading to the door. Jordan glanced over his shoulder when she closed it behind her, sighing and reaching for his coffee.

Grabbing his cell phone as it rang, he clicked the icon on his computer to pull up his chat program.

“Jordan, how are you?”

“Aunt Penelope, what time is it there?” He glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen and tried subtracting the hours.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon but I wanted to make sure you arrived safely. So far all of my hands are working fine. But they don’t know how long you’re going to be gone. Are you sure you can go through with this?” Aunt Penelope understood him more than his own mother, and even though he and his aunt weren’t related by blood, he often felt a closer kindred spirit to her than he did to his mom.

“We’ve been through this, Aunt P. I wish you’d quit worrying. And I arrived here fine. It’s a gorgeous island. You’d love it here.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her laughter sounded tense. “It’s way too far from my ranch.”

Jordan imagined her standing in the living room, possibly looking out her front window, her hair tousled, and wearing the sweatpants she always wore. His aunt was a pretty woman, although after her divorce she quit trying to act the part. It would take a while for her to bounce back after forcing a husband out the door for his continued infidelity.

“That it is,” he agreed, enjoying hearing her voice. “You shouldn’t worry about the hired help, though. I can keep up with the books if you scan everything into the file I set up for you before I left. It will be just like setting them on my desk. And I’m fine. The month will fly. You know that. I’ll be back in no time. Don’t you dare give my job to someone else.”

“If you see out the month, the conditions are you get married to royalty. And somehow I don’t see a Sicilian princess enjoying living out her days here. If you don’t marry her, you have to go to work for Grandfather,” she added, the bitterness in her voice apparent. The moment she’d learned of the ultimatum, she’d hated Grandfather for it. “Coming back here isn’t part of the deal.”

“Don’t hire someone to replace me, Aunt P. Please,” he stressed. “I’ve got a month to figure out the best way out of this. And worst-case scenario, I walk away from all of the family.”

“You won’t walk away from them for me, Jordan. I won’t allow it.”

“You’re getting yourself all upset and I told you not to worry. Don’t you dare let that ranch fall apart while I’m gone. You can’t afford to pay me overtime to get it back on its feet when I get back,” he emphasized, intentionally snapping at her. “And you know damn good and well I wouldn’t be walking away from my family. I plan on coming home to my family in a month. Now, get in the Suburban and drive around the ranch. Keep your appearances up and that will be enough to keep everyone working like they always do.”

Her laughter was melodic yet sad. “There are times when I wonder how much Anton blood actually runs in your veins, Jordan.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Aunt P,” he told her, smiling while he logged in to his chat program and then watched the offline messages appear on his screen. “Now, do as I say. You know you can call with any questions or problems. We’ll get through this. I’m going to get some work done before the fireworks start tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said, yawning in his ear.

“Have a good evening, Aunt P. I’m here to tell you, tomorrow isn’t that bad.” Technically, he was a day ahead of her and made light of the difference in time zones between the island and Montana.

“Good night,” she said, not laughing at his joke, and then hung up the phone.

Jordan blew out a breath. Putting his phone next to his keyboard, he stared at the sandwich Cook had brought him. He was no longer in the mood for it. In the back of his head, he’d known over the years since he reached adulthood that it was a matter of time before the Antons would disown him. Regardless of his last name, or how thick his blood was or wasn’t, he couldn’t play by Grandfather’s rules. And Grandfather didn’t allow any family member to not adhere to the reputation he believed all Antons should uphold.

Jordan stared at his offline messages, three of them from two ranch hands and a lady in town that he occasionally spent time with. He hadn’t told her he was going to be gone for a month. Running his fingers through his hair he yanked out his ponytail holder and stood, combing his hair with his fingers and redoing his ponytail.

Opening the doors that Cook had closed to his balcony, he ignored the chime of his laptop informing him he’d received an instant message, and stepped out onto the balcony. Jordan’s family wasn’t perfect. Hell, they were worse than most of the soap operas his aunt watched. But they were his family.

“Figure it out, Anton,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning on the edge of the sturdy railing and staring at the large yard in front of the castle and beyond, where the drive disappeared amidst rocks and trees leading to the ocean.

He straightened, staring beyond to the endless ocean that faded into the sky. Maybe he would have been smarter to tell Grandfather Anton to get the hell out of Jordan’s life and refuse to come here. The ranch had been about to go under when Jordan moved in with his aunt two years ago. They’d worked hard to overcome the debts his Uncle Jorge had created. And Jordan was proud of how far they’d come. The ranch wouldn’t make his aunt rich, but it was her land, free and clear, and today it was breaking even.

Jordan couldn’t help thinking that their success was a good part of the reason Grandfather suddenly became interested in his life. That and his mother, who loved her country club lifestyle, ached to brag about her son the way other members of his family bragged about his cousins. She prayed daily, Jordan didn’t have any doubt, that he would follow his father’s footsteps and enter into the family business.

Jordan couldn’t see himself ever donning a suit and sitting behind a desk deciding which business would go under and which would make it another year. The family business disgusted him.

His computer chimed again and Jordan entered his bedroom, shifting his thoughts to the compelling Miss Amber Stone. He needed to Google her, learn what he could about his social organizer. Grandfather would have hired the best, and if he intentionally chose her because of her looks, Jordan would soon learn the truth to that. He wouldn’t put it past Grandfather to arrange for Jordan to spend time with a young woman on the pretense of marriage, but then throw a gorgeous employee into the loop to challenge Jordan’s scruples.

Jordan sipped his coffee, knowing he’d have to get an appetite for the sandwich later. He wouldn’t be going down to dinner at seven. Miss Amber Stone would be more likely to show up at midnight if she didn’t know who he was. He’d rather seduce her anonymously. Just thinking about her smooth skin, her petite, curvy body, and all of that long, thick hair drained all blood from his brain to his cock. He stared at his laptop screen, not focusing on it, as he imagined how he’d take Amber in the barn later tonight.

Chat boxes now covered his screen and he studied them, noting the time as he did. He would wait an hour and then let Cook know he wouldn’t be down for dinner. The most recent chat box, which was front and center on his screen and above the others, grabbed his attention. The name on the top of the box was Anton_Admin2000.

“Crap,” he complained, reading the message in the box.

Your Grandfather wishes you to call at your earliest convenience.

Jordan X’d out the box, read the instant messages from the others, and X’d out each of those. Two of his workhands sent messages from their phones, both comments about the ranch. He grabbed a small notepad from his laptop case, jotted down a few notes so he could address their concerns later, and then grabbed his phone.

Mary Rhodes was a good lady, and he shouldn’t ignore her message. They were casual lovers at best, and right now he had bigger fish to fry. That is, if he could catch them first. He X’d out her box after reading the message she’d sent from her phone as well. More than likely she instant messaged her friends from her phone while sitting at the combination diner, country store, and post office in Big Timber. He would have told Mary he’d be gone for a month, but Mary saw most of the ranchers and a lot of the ranch hands. Asking her not to mention that Aunt Penelope’s ranch-hand supervisor would be gone for a month might mean asking more than she could do.

Taking his phone to the comfortable-looking chair alongside his large bed, he relaxed, putting thoughts of Mary out of his head. It had been a couple of months since he’d taken her out, and if she were hinting for another date, he would avoid answering her for as long as possible. The news would get out soon enough that he wasn’t on Big Sky Ranch.

Placing the dreaded call, Jordan set the notepad and pen on the table next to the chair and then put his phone on speaker.

“Anton Enterprises,” the secretary answered on the second ring.

“Pierre Anton, please.”

“Mr. Anton doesn’t take phone calls,” she informed him, her voice clipped and indifferent.

“This is his grandson, Jordan Anton.”

“One moment, please,” she told him, using the same tone.

Jordan sat through the silent hold, his thoughts again drifting to Amber Stone. What was she doing right now?

“Pierre Anton’s office.” Grandfather Anton’s right-hand man and primary bully, Pablo Diego, spoke with a husky voice that broke up through the speakerphone.

“Pablo, it’s Jordan. I received your message on the computer.”

Pablo didn’t answer, more than likely watching Jordan’s grandfather, who’d probably raised his hand for silence. Grandfather enjoyed making anyone around him wait for an audience. It was all about the power trip.

Jordan’s thoughts wandered as he shifted his attention to his closed bedroom door. It had been longer than he remembered since he’d sat in the middle of the afternoon and done nothing, as he was doing now. And he didn’t like it. Amber didn’t strike him as the kind of woman accustomed to doing nothing either. She was a working woman, more than likely having built her reputation by putting in long hours and appearing tireless at all times. Would she exert the same energy sexually? What he’d seen of her so far—her craving to explore, boldness that covered her shyness—had him dying to find out.

“Jordan, my boy, how are you doing?” Grandfather Anton’s voice boomed through the speakerphone.

Jordan tapped the button on the side of his phone to turn down the volume, just the sound of his grandfather’s voice reminding him of the seriousness of the game he was about to play. Even relaxed and jovial, the power in Grandfather’s tone wasn’t missed. Jordan wondered how terrible his life would be if he just allowed the old man to disown him.

“Doing good,” he answered easily. “The chartered flight from New Zealand went smoothly. You hired a good pilot.”

“Of course,” Grandfather said, as if the thought of anyone on his staff being less than perfect had never crossed his mind. “And Miss Stone, what do you think of her?”

“Miss Stone?” Jordan asked, deciding at that moment that he would allow his time with her today and tonight to be off the clock. He would also learn if there were security cameras along the paths on the island. “Is she here?”

“She arrived on the island a few hours ago, this morning your time.”

“I’ll seek her out, then,” Jordan offered.

“Good. If she doesn’t meet your needs for a social organizer I’ll need to know within the next twenty-four hours. Princess Tory arrives tomorrow afternoon and you’ll need to give a good show for Her Highness.” Grandfather’s tone lowered, the joviality disappearing when he continued. “Jordan, this is the chance of a lifetime, boy. I hope you see that I wouldn’t do this for any of my other grandchildren.”

Then why him? He wouldn’t ask. What was the point?

“Your mother is heartbroken that you’re throwing away your Harvard degree playing ranch hand. You’re thirty years old, my boy. It’s time to grow up.”

“I’m grown up, Grandfather.”

Grandfather’s laugh bordered on dangerous. “Don’t cross me, Jordan. Anyone else in the family would kill for this opportunity. The Alixandre family is one of the most prominent Sicilian families. Their royal line dates back centuries.”

In other words, Grandfather wanted to marry Jordan into the Mob.

“Your marriage to Princess Tory will unite two of the most powerful families on this planet,” Grandfather boasted, as if the event were already sealed. “I want to hear from you immediately after you’ve met Princess Tory. Keep an open mind, boy. You already know she’s gorgeous. Take your time getting to know her and understand she will probably be terrified flying to an island away from her home to meet a man who very likely will be her future husband.”

“I know how to be a gentleman,” Jordan said, barely able to keep the disgust out of his voice. They weren’t in the Dark Ages. Arranged marriages were a thing of the past. And in spite of Grandfather stressing that all of this was his and Princess Tory’s choice, Jordan wouldn’t be surprised to learn Grandfather had already arranged where the wedding would be held.

“I’ll also be curious to hear what you think of Miss Stone,” Grandfather added.

Jordan frowned. “I’m sure she’ll be very capable of doing her job,” he said, trying to figure out Grandfather’s interest in the social organizer.

“I want to know what you think of her as a woman,” Grandfather stressed.

“Why would it matter?”

“Because she is equally as beautiful as Princess Tory.” Grandfather didn’t elaborate. “I’ve got to go, my boy. There are people waiting.” The line went dead without another word.

Jordan stared at his cell phone for a moment and pondered his grandfather’s game. He had said both women were equally beautiful. Did Grandfather believe Jordan might fall for Amber over Princess Tory?

Dropping his phone on top of his notepad, Jordan stood slowly and stretched. Grandfather would be grossly disturbed to discover he didn’t know his grandson as well as he thought he did. Jordan had no intention of falling for any woman. Not here on the island or on the ranch. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the time to get to know both women better. It was Grandfather’s idea to put him on this island with two women. The terms of the agreement didn’t state he had to marry at the end of the month.

Jordan wasn’t going to marry anyone. All he needed to figure out was a way to get out of the alternative if he didn’t. There was no way he could work for Anton Enterprises. His grandfather’s corporation specialized in buying out businesses and then closing their doors, dismantling them and creating new, more organized companies that answered exclusively to Anton Enterprises. No way would Jordan spend the rest of his life putting hardworking people out of jobs.

Cook was obviously put out when Jordan informed her he wouldn’t be down for dinner. After entering his room again, loitering way too long, and leaving him with a formal five-course meal on a round table that a gentleman named Jesse set up for her, Jordan was alone again. And restless.

There was no cable TV on the island, but Jordan found an extensive DVD collection under a large, flat-screen TV attached to the wall in an adjoining room to his. There was a billiards table, too. He wasted a few hours in the room before wandering outside his quarters, taking a different path through the castle and exploring a bit. The architecture was amazing, every room incredibly decorated and full of personality. It was impossible to believe there were only five people on the island right now including a staff of only three. A large staff had to have maintained this castle at one time and Jordan wondered where they were now.

A back staircase took him to a wing he hadn’t explored before. It appeared to be part of the castle used strictly to entertain. He found very large stained-glass doors that were heavy as hell, but after pulling one of them open, Jordan stared into a ballroom that made him swear he’d just been swept back to a previous century. Incredible chandeliers, each as large as a small car, hung well over his head. If he were more of a romantic, he could probably induce his imagination into seeing many couples swinging around the dance floor, moving to the music of some accomplished quartet.

There were other rooms outside the ballroom, a coatroom about the size of his bedroom upstairs, and a kitchen that would make Aunt Penelope turn green with envy. There was also a foyer, its marble floors so shiny and dust free he started wondering at the accuracy of Cook’s statement when she informed him there were only three servants on staff here.

The courtyard outside had so many flowers growing in large pots the air was filled with their perfumed scent. It was make-out central out here; with so many secluded locations, bordered with small trees and flower gardens, a couple could disappear and never be spotted by mingling guests. Something to keep in mind, he pointed out to himself. Especially if his social organizer decided to take advantage of all the castle had to offer.

It was a decent hike past the courtyard and around to the backside of the castle. The old stone barn was an ominous shadow in the darkness. But the scented air, mixed with the smell of salt from the ocean and various fragrances from tropical plants surrounding him, created a surreal atmosphere. Throw in some fog and it would be the ultimate setting for seduction and lovemaking.

Jordan always thought it would be hot as hell to fuck a willing lady in the barn back at the ranch. Unfortunately, he didn’t know many willing ladies. Mary and he had had sex a couple times over the two years he’d lived there, but both times at her apartment. Mary dreamed of big cities, yet was born and raised in a small town. She had no desire to see the wonders of his ranch, or any other ranch in the area.

Pulling his cell phone off the clasp on his belt, he checked the time. It was barely eleven; he had a good hour before Amber would show up. And he bet she’d be there. Amber was as willing to seek out an adventure as he was. He guessed she came here for more reasons than a great-paying job. Realizing he’d forgotten to Google her, he made a mental note to do that as soon as he returned to his room.

“How are you doing, girl?” Jordan asked the mare in the first stall as he entered the barn.

Not bothering with lights, he moved through the large structure, stroking the brown filly’s neck as he made soothing sounds and breathed in the familiar smells that reminded him of home. His grandfather would have a stroke if he learned Jordan was more comfortable in the barn than he was in the exquisite castle.

“Who’s there?” a woman demanded behind him as he moved past the empty stalls to the large back horse in the corner.

Jordan squinted in the darkness, glancing in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. “I’m here. Who are you?” he asked the darkness enveloped around him.

Light flooded the barn, blinding him momentarily while the large horse behind him whinnied his complaint.

“It’s okay, boy,” Jordan assured him, moving to the stall and speaking quietly to the horse while searching the barn. “Apparently our company would rather watch than be seen,” he added, loud enough that whoever was in the barn with him would hear.

“What is there to watch?” the woman asked, her strong Kiwi accent strict and confident.

Jordan spotted the woman standing at the end of the stalls. “There you are,” he said, smiling at her. “Do you tend to the horses?”

“Among other things.” She tilted her head, brushed a wisp of gray hair behind her ear and hooked her thumb in the belt loop of her jeans.

Something about the woman immediately made him think of Aunt Penelope. He didn’t like the thought that she was on her own on the ranch right now, and possibly could be put in a similar situation to this woman at the moment.

“I’m Jordan Anton,” he offered, walking to her with his hand extended. “And you are?”

“Sara, Sara Bird. This is my island.”