“It’s beautiful,” I said, and Raphael beamed.
“I am pleased that you like it,” he said. “Please, make yourself at home. We hope you will join us for dinner tonight at seven. Isiah is preparing French cuisine to welcome you into our home. Do you think you can find the dining room by yourself?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t at all confident I could find my way around. Raphael gestured towards the wall beside the bed. “There is an intercom system, just there,” he said. “If you need anything, just press the button, and I’ll be here.”
“Thank you, Raphael,” I said. With another small bow, Raphael left, closing the door behind him.
Immediately, I did what I’d been longing to do since I first entered the bedroom: I took off my shoes and pressed my bare feet into the thick, lush carpet in the center of the room, luxuriating in the feel of the soft fibers between my toes. That done, I turned my attention to exploring my new bedroom.
Two ornate armchairs sat in front of the fireplace, as well as a small table adorned with a tea set and a plate piled high with delicate finger sandwiches. Raphael had said dinner would be at seven, which, according to the antique clock on the mantel, was still almost six hours away. I had been too jittery to eat breakfast in the morning, so I fell on the tiny sandwiches, which were delicious.
When I had eaten my fill, I noticed a small card on the table next to the teapot. Unfolding it, I read:
Bonjour Mademoiselle,
I have prepared you some light refreshments to welcome you to our home. I hope you will enjoy it. If there is anything you need, I hope you will not hesitate to let me know. We want you to be comfortable as long as you are our guest here. We are all thrilled to have you, and look forward to getting to know you better.
Cordialement à vous,
Isiah Boucher
Isiah, that was the chef, I remembered. Smiling slightly, I refolded the note and slipped it into my purse. If dinner that night was anything like the tea I had just had, I knew it was going to be amazing. But how was I going to pass the hours until then?
It didn’t take long to unpack, and my few possessions appeared meager and cheap next to the opulent decor. A large, freestanding wardrobe stood against the far wall, and I almost felt it judging me as I filled it with old, comfortable sweaters and jeans.
As I organized my toiletries in the en suite bathroom, soft piano music began to play in the distance. I straightened and listened harder. It couldn’t be coming from very far away, and I was under no orders to stay in my bedroom until dinner, so I decided to investigate. I left the door open when I left, concerned that I would never find my way back in a hallway full of identical doors.
It didn’t take long to find the source of the music. Down the hall, an open door led into a kind of sitting room, complete with a baby grand piano. A man sat at the piano with his back to me, playing a tune I did not recognize.
He played beautifully, and I found myself entranced. From behind, I could only see his full head of dark hair and his long, elegant fingers as they danced across the keys, but he played with such talent that I found myself fantasizing about the feel of those fingers on my body.
Abruptly, I shook myself out of my fantasy. What was I doing? I was here to do a job, not to fantasize about every attractive man I met.
I coughed quietly to announce myself, and the man’s back straightened slightly before he turned to face me. “Ah,” he said, rising to his feet, “you must be Isabel. Do you mind if I call you Isabel?”
“Please do,” I said. I held out my hand to shake, but instead the man raised my hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. I felt a blush heat my cheeks, remembering the fantasies I’d just been entertaining about this man’s hands.
“Enchanted,” he said. “My name is Vincent Moreau. I’m the housekeeper here.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. The back of my hand tingled slightly where he’d kissed it. While Vincent lacked the boyish good looks of Raphael, he was incredibly handsome in his own right, with a wide, square jaw covered in dark stubble.“You play beautifully.”
“That’s kind of you to say,” he said. “I like to dabble in what little down time I have.”
“I’m no expert, but it sounded like more than dabbling to me,” I offered, and Vincent nodded his thanks. He had a way of gazing with his dark, serious eyes that made me feel as if he could read my innermost thoughts. Though they shared an accent, Vincent offered a stark contrast from Raphael’s cheerful, exuberant personality, and I found myself drawn to him.