Blood of the Sorceress. Maggie Shayne
jerked away from the window.
“People won’t vote for a President who seems too wealthy,” Gus went on. “He can probably keep three, maybe four, but more than that would be pushing it.”
“So the staff …?”
“Are paid for the next twelve months,” Sid said. “So are the taxes.”
Gus nodded an agreement. “Ned says by then our stock in his companies should be earning us enough to maintain the place on our own. He threw in the limo, a pimped-out Jeep Wrangler and Jag. A Jag, D-man. And an expense account for incidentals. Wait, I have it here somewhere.” Gus felt around, then finally pulled a small leather ledger from an inner pocket of his designer suit jacket and handed it over.
Demetrius opened it and looked at the dollar amount noted at the top of the first page. Then he lifted his head and blinked. “Those must be some incidentals.”
The limo circled the mermaid fountain and stopped at the front entrance, which was just as spectacular as the rest of the place. Sid got out, came around and opened the car door.
Demetrius stepped out and into his new life. The life he deserved. The one he’d come here for. He savored that knowledge, then turned and walked up the broad flagstone steps, passing between two pillars into a domed entryway to a pair of massive hardwood doors with dragon-head knockers. “This is living,” he said softly.
Gus sent him a knowing look, then returned his gaze to the entrance. “It was no mistake you gettin’ hit by that car, D-dog. No mistake at all. You see that naked blonde again, you oughtta be thankin’ her.”
A throat cleared. They both turned. Sid was standing behind them in his crisp uniform and chauffeur’s cap, with some of his carrot curls peeking out from beneath the hat.
“What is it, Sid?” Demetrius asked.
A small smile tugged at the corners of the younger man’s lips. “I was told to remain at your service. I’ll just park the limo and make use of one of the rooms in the staff quarters behind the garage—with your permission, sirs.”
Demetrius looked at Gus, who shrugged.
“How many bedrooms does this house have, Sid?” Demetrius asked.
“I believe there are twelve, sir.”
“That has to stop. It bothers me. Call me Demetrius, all right? And he’s Gus.”
“All right. Demetrius.” Sid looked as if he was battling a smile.
“I know. It’s a mouthful. So, Sid, you say we have twelve bedrooms. And how many staff members live here?”
“I’d have to find out.”
“Still, I don’t see why you should take a room in the garage.”
“It’s fine, really, sir—Demetrius, sir. The staff quarters are nice.”
“Still—”
“I’ve stayed there before. I really like it.”
“All right, then, if that’s the way you want it.”
“It is, sir.” He looked as if he was about to correct himself, then decided not to. “Will there be anything else?”
Demetrius glanced at the front doors. “No, I guess not.” But for some reason he couldn’t seem to make himself open them.
Sid looked at the two of them for a long moment, then nodded. “Maybe I should give you the grand tour of the place, show you everything you might need to know, introduce you to the staff.”
Demetrius sighed in abject relief, only realizing what he was doing when it was too late to prevent it.
“Yes,” he said. “That would be great, Sid. I am completely out of my element here anyway, and this … this is just a little bit overwhelming, even though …” He turned to look at the sprawling lawns, the gardens, the koi swimming in the fountain, his heart swelling a little in his chest. It was nice here. He would have everything he had ever wanted here. “Even though it was meant for me.”
Sid couldn’t possibly have understood, but he nodded as if he did and, reaching past Demetrius, opened the massive doors.
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