Seduction Island. Lorie O'Clare
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,”