2. Arthur

2

ARTHUR

A fter another successful day, I relaxed in my luxurious office chair, my head falling back against the smooth leather. Rain pattered against the windows and trickled down in a soft symphony that reminded me of home.

I was so lost in the moment that I almost missed the tentative knock behind me. “Come in.” My command came out gruff after talking on the phone all day, and I cleared it while reaching for the glass of amber whiskey I’d poured as soon as the last call ended.

“Sir?” Deena’s soft voice had me turning all the way around in my chair.

I waved her in with both hands. “Deena, come on in.” The quiet older woman made it easy to smile. “Do you need something? Has your back been giving you trouble again?”

“No, sir.” She rubbed the small of her back and offered a tiny smile. “That chiropractor you sent did a right fine job. Why, I haven’t felt this good in years.” She hesitated, her gaze skipping to the window then back to me. “You certainly didn’t have to pay for it.”

“Nonsense.” I sipped the whiskey, letting the smooth liquid wash over my tongue. “It’s the least I could do since you work so hard keeping this place spotless.”

“Like you make that difficult.” There was the hint of banter I’d been waiting for. It wasn’t like Deena to be timid. Whatever was on her mind must have her in a real mess. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

The worry lines in her face caused an instant shot of concern to straighten my spine. I stood, walking around the desk to pat the chair beneath the window while I sank into the loveseat directly across from it. “Not to worry. I’m done for the day. What brings you by?”

“Well,” Deena began as she paced back and forth between the chair and the bookshelf on the far side of the room, “it’s a bit complicated, I’m afraid.”

I waited for her to continue, the thin-lipped look on her face worrying me more with each footstep, each silent second that ticked past. “What’s wrong? Is someone ill?”

“No.” She breathed in deeply before letting it out with a long exhale. “Not exactly.” She finally stopped pacing and stalked over to the chair, dropping into it with a plop so unlike her usual self that I barely resisted the smile tugging at my lips. “It’s my daughter, you see?”

No, I didn’t see, but I motioned for her to continue.

“She’s… well, sir, she’s pregnant.” Red splotches spread across her cheeks.

“You’ve spoken of her before. This is her first? How exciting.” I’d hoped my words would ease some of her anxiety but it had the opposite effect.

Deena straightened in the chair and placed her hands in her lap. “It is. It’s been a complicated pregnancy, however, and her doctor has put her on bedrest for the last few months before she delivers.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,”’ I said, thinking how awful that must be. I tried to imagine being forced to stay in bed and shuddered.

Deena’s eyes glistened as she stood. “Her husband can’t afford to take time off work to care for her. I thought maybe…” she trailed off, her shoulders sagging, and eyed me over the rim of her glasses. “I thought I might take some time off to care for her.”

Sympathy tore its way through me. “Of course you should go. You should be with her during this time. Use my personal credit card to book your flight.” I stood, keeping myself relaxed and unimposing to Deena’s small frame. “I truly hope your daughter is all right. You must stay with her until she delivers the baby and do spend some time afterwards helping her with the newborn and getting to know your grandchild.” I arched a brow. “Though I do hope you return.”

Deena nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. Was I such a horrible employer that she thought this an impossible request?

“I will. Thank you, sir, thank you so much!” Deena flung her hands up in the air. “Of course I’ll come back! I love working here. You, Scott, and Ryland are wonderful. I couldn’t imagine working for anyone else.”

“Good.” I had no words for the way that declaration made me feel. I’d always strived to be fair in both my business dealings and in life.

Another beat of hesitation gave the room an uncertain air before Deena spoke up. “I do hope you won’t replace me while I’m gone.”

“Not a chance.” I patted her shoulder. “You’re irreplaceable. In fact, I insist on paying you while you’re away. You’re overdue for a vacation. I can’t remember the last time you even took a sick day.”

“Never.” Deena straightened, pride coming into her spine.

“That’s what I thought.” I dropped my hand to my pocket and slipped it inside. “Off with you now. Get that flight scheduled. I’ll make sure you’re paid as usual so you have nothing to worry about while you’re gone.”

“Thank you again.” Deena took a step toward me before seeming to remember my reluctance toward hugs and stopped. “I’ll be back. I promise you that.”

“You enjoy yourself as best you can. Time spent with family is precious.” I feared once she laid eyes on her grandchild, I’d receive a call that she’d changed her mind and wanted to stay in Florida with her daughter and grandbaby. And I’d let her without argument because family was a treasurable thing that too many ignored.

Deena left the room as quietly as she’d entered it, and I returned to my desk chair. I’d given Deena what she asked for—and needed—while putting myself and my housemates at a disadvantage.

How were we going to find a temporary housekeeper? Deena was indeed irreplaceable. I’d meant that. She understood each of us and kept the house in perfect condition. She did more than cook and clean. Deena helped arrange parties and events that we hosted. She ensured any additional staff we hired did their jobs. And she did hundreds of small things in the background of our lives that I’d bet my billions on we took for granted and probably didn’t even know about. Like the whiskey sitting in my glass—Deena always ensured it was ordered and delivered so that I never ran out.

Meal planning, prep, shopping, it was always done to perfection. I’d need to check the kitchen and see if we had food for tomorrow.

A door opened and closed, Scott’s voice carrying in an echo down the hallway beyond my office. He shouted my name before he and Ryland burst through the door. “There you are.” He flung an arm around Ryland’s neck, almost knocking the man over with his enthusiasm. “I told you he’d still be working.”

“And I didn’t argue with you.” Ryland threw off Scott’s arm and gathered his long blond hair up into a topknot.

Scott rolled his eyes and sat on the corner of my desk. “You’re looking more sour than usual. What’s up?”

“Dour.” Ryland shoulder-checked Scott on his way to the window. “The man’s British. The word you want is dour.”

“Sour. Dour. Who cares? They mean the same thing.” Scott held up both hands in a ‘whatever’ gesture.

“How is it that you two made it into your forties still acting like teenagers?”

Scott leaned back so far that he fell into my lap. “Lucky, I guess.”

Ryland scoffed from his seat on the windowsill. “Luck has nothing to do with it. You refuse to act your age, and I’m burdened with the responsibility of hauling your sorry ass back on the rare occasion you decide you don’t want to go home with another woman.”

“I offered to bring her here.” Scott’s head rolled side to side.

I pushed him back upright. “You’re not drunk. Stop pretending.” I’d seen him drunk often enough to recognize it. This was something else.

The shift happened between one breath and the next. Scott gave Ryland a sloppy grin, then slid off the desk and straightened to his full height. “You were right.”

Ryland held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Fork it over.”

Scott pulled out his wallet and threw a stack of hundreds into Ryland’s palm. “And you call me an asshole.”

“I’m not above taking your money. Not that I need it.” He pointed a long, thin finger at Scott. “I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“We have a problem.” I interrupted before they devolved into a friendly verbal sparring match. Their notorious camaraderie often led them into this type of sarcastic argument that lasted days.

Both men turned toward me at my statement, all sense of joviality falling as they sat.

“What happened?” Any trace of “drunkenness” disappeared in those two words.

I poured myself another glass of whiskey and brought the crystal glass to my lips. “Deena’s taking some time off.” I filled them in on the situation, ending with, “She’ll be back in a few months.”

“Damn.” Ryland tugged his hair free and twisted the hairband around his wrist. “You did the right thing.”

“Agreed.” Scott pushed to his feet and picked up two glasses from the table behind him. He poured several fingers of whiskey in each glass, passing one to Ryland before returning to his chair.

“I did not need your approval nor was I seeking it.” I sat forward and locked my hands together on top of the desk. “How are we going to find someone willing to work for just a few months?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Ryland spun the liquor around the glass, watching it swirl with a calculated gaze. “We’ll put an ad in the local paper.”

“You want to advertise locally that three bachelor billionaires need a temporary housekeeper?” Scott scoffed. “Why not put our faces on a billboard? You’d get the same effect.”

I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’ll get a thousand applications from women with zero experience. Women who want to come here in the hopes of landing a billionaire husband.” Scott’s nose crinkled so hard a crease appeared between his eyes. He made himself out to be little more than a playboy, but the shrewdness didn’t surprise me. The animosity did.

It must have caught Ryland by surprise too, because he choked on his whiskey and pounded a fist to his chest until he caught his breath. “You’re against that? You? The one who brought a different woman home every week for three months?”

Scott’s jaw tightened, his chin jutting out as a stubborn look turned his green eyes into chips of emerald. “That was different. Those women were not given access to the whole house. They were not allowed to come and go as they pleased. Whoever we bring in here needs to be above reproach. They must be trustworthy.” He punctuated each point with the stab of a fingertip into my desk.

Ryland caught my eye and grinned. “Great. Then you should be in charge of the hiring process.”

The screech of Scott’s nail and the divot he left in the desk attested to his shock, though his face remained carefully neutral. He’d not become a savvy businessman by giving his emotions away. “You want me to hire a new housekeeper?”

“You seem particularly invested.” I joined Ryland’s cause with a grin. “I think it will be good for you.”

He shifted in his chair and crossed his ankle over the opposite knee. “Fine. But only if Ryland writes the ad and stipulates all the points I’ve made.” He picked invisible lint from his trousers. “On second thought, put it in the paper. That’s our best shot at anyone older than college age finding it.”

Ryland bit his lip, but he gave up trying to hold back his laughter. It burst out of him in gleeful guffaws. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“Fuck off.” Scott stood and pushed Ryland’s shoulder. “I like women. That’s not a crime. Doesn’t mean I want a college girl running around washing my underwear.”

“She’d probably try to sell it.” Ryland slapped a hand to Scott’s back. “Maybe we should ask for a butler instead. Or state that anyone under thirty need not apply.”

“You think I’m being paranoid?” Scott’s voice turned sharp.

Ryland sobered in an instant. “No. You’re right. I’m just shocked to hear you making so many demands. Not every woman you meet is out to get the better of you.”

I kept silent, as usual. Watching my two best friends argue had become something of a pastime for me. It amused me most days, infuriated me on others, and made me grateful we’d met every day. Attending Harvard had given all of us the start we’d needed, and the friendship we’d found while there was a thing to treasure. “Ryland, write the ad. Scott, you’re in charge from there.” I pointed at Scott. “You’ll do the initial interview, but we all have to agree before we hire anyone.”

If all went well, we’d have a new housekeeper by the end of the week. I hoped—for all our sakes—that whomever we hired had the constitution to withstand us and all our idiosyncrasies.