The Widower (18+) | [Complete]

One

"Children live here?"

"Three of 'em! One's a teenager, but he'll always be a babe to me."

I glanced through the door at the sprawling foyer watching the people tidying up inside it. Dark mahogany covered the floors and walls, a grand, marble staircase led to a mezzanine and rooms above, all with a massive crystal chandelier dangling overhead. It was hard to believe a place like this existed in America, or that someone lived here. "Who does this place belong to?"

"Mr. Augustine Montgomery." Augustine Montgomery? How does a name sound rich?

"Is he here? I should talk to him."

"He's away for work, but he should be back later this weekend," she said in her charming accent. "We can tell him about the damage when he's in a good mood. Shouldn't be a problem."

Something about the way she said that made my skin grow cold.

A few gasps were heard from outside the door, followed by a shuffling. Mildred perked up, trying to see what was causing the fuss.

Someone peeked inside the room and said, "He's here!"

Mildred's eyes grew wide. "He's 'ere?" she said with fear in her voice. "He wasn't supposed to be back for another day!" She stood up and started gathering the tea set, even snatching my cup from my hand. "Stay 'ere, love," she instructed me in a frantic tone.

She shuffled out of the room and instantly froze in her tracks.

"Mr. Montgomery. We weren't expectin' you," she said.

"I was told there'd been an accident." The deep, British accent reverberated in my chest, as well as much lower. It piqued my interest.

I leaned through the doorway and instantly felt lightheaded again—this time, not because of the concussion.

It was because the man standing with Mildred was even sexier than his voice.

Mr. Montgomery was tall and well-tailored, a black suit that looked like it cost more than my car flattered his broad shoulders and framed his slender waist and hips. His salt and pepper hair was cut short on the sides but left long on top, the perfect coif of waves laying in an effortless style. His angled jaw was softened by a bit of scruff and a pair of luscious lips that stayed parted as he waited for an answer from Mildred.

When my eyes landed on the silver band on his left-hand ring finger, my excitement waned. He's off-limits.

Mr. Montgomery looked like David Beckham and Johnny Depp had a love child who decided to take over Wallstreet. It's a cruel joke that a man rich enough to own an island would also be sickeningly attractive and married. I reminded myself not to forget that last part.

He looked over at me with dark, hazel eyes and I felt anything but cold. He tucked a hand into his pocket, the buttons at the top of his white shirt spreading with the movement. "And who might you be?" he asked in that alluring, rich voice.

When I remembered to say words, I held out my hand to him and said, "I'm Aubrey. Uh . . . Aubrey Nielson."

"Hello, Ms. Nielson." He gave me an appeasing handshake and added, "A pleasure to meet the person responsible for trespassing upon and vandalizing my private estate." Apparently, he was rich and a prick. Shocking.

In the two minutes I had spent with him, I knew his type better than I wanted to admit. I had been with too many men like him not to recognize their games.

"I apologize for my presence and the damage. It was truly an accident," I told him in the demure way I assume he expected. "I am more than willing to pay for any damages."

"You have twenty thousand dollars tucked away in your pocket?" he asked.

Twenty . . . ? Holy moly. "Twenty thousand dollars? For a wooden shed?" I asked without thinking.

He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at me as if I had offended him. "It was a greenhouse constructed in 1904." He narrowed his eyes. "Not a . . . 'shed.'"

"Sir," Mildred popped back in to save me, "I believe there're other ways Ms. Nielson could pay ya back." I looked at her with wide eyes, hoping she was not suggesting prostitution. "You've been lookin' for a tutor for Matthew for months," she explained. I started to relax.

"Yes, Mildred, I am aware." He started to walk away and Mildred followed him without question. For some reason, I followed as well, stealing a glance at his tight backside as I did. Damn, I thought. He's a dangerous one.

"Ms. Nielson is a teacher and is currently lookin' for employment."

We walked into a room with large windows overlooking the gardens. A small lounge area with two antique-looking couches sat before them. Mr. Montgomery walked around a desk, the only signifier that this large space was an office. "What makes you believe she is qualified to be Matthew's tutor?" he asked without looking at me.

Mildred nudged me. "I have a Master of Education from Dartmouth," I answered. He continued thumbing through his mail. "Most recently, I was a calculus and language instructor at a charter school in Manhattan. I speak French, Spanish, and Italian fluently."

He peered at me from the side of his eye, still unimpressed. "Pensez-vous que vous maîtrisez le français?" he spoke easily. You think you've mastered French? Of course he spoke it too.

"Assez bien pour corriger votre gammaire," I quipped. Enough to correct your grammar. After that, he almost looked impressed.

He sat the mail down and leaned his hip against the desk. He crossed his arms over his chest and appraised me from head to toe. Under his scrutinous gaze, my body stirred. I ignored it the best I could as the silence extended to an awkward length. "Send your CV and contact information to Mildred and I will consider it."

Consider it? I can't consider whether twenty thousand dollars will magically appear in my bank account. "Great," I said sarcastically.

Mildred took my arm and led me from the room. The smile on her face seemed out of place given what just transpired. She looked over her shoulder before saying, "He liked you."

"Really?" I asked with genuine surprise. 

She nodded with a huge smile. "I could tell. He's a bit rough around the edges but he takes care of his staff quite well," she told me. "A position like this is just what you need! Free lodgin' and experience in your field. It'd at least keep you from movin' in with your friend!"

For someone I had met an hour ago, she seemed far too happy for me. Knowing quite well that there is no such thing as a free lunch, I wondered when the other shoe would drop. "Won't I need to meet with his wife as well?" I asked her.

Mildred stopped in her tracks for a moment, then continued on. "The children's mother passed away a few years ago," she said, looking me in the eyes ruefully.

The familiar pain ached in my chest. It was the pain that came every time I remembered my mother and how it felt when I lost her. It was then that I knew—money owed or not—I wouldn't turn down the job if offered.

_____

A/N: The setting seems like it is out of a fantasy, but it is inspired by reality! Look up the Thousand Islands and Boldt Castle if you want a little extra visual. 

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