Chapter 39

She bounded toward them. She was wearing the skimpiest of string bikinis with nothing but a small, lacy, wraparound skirt draped on her slender hips.

She stopped before Raemon, looking up into his eyes with a beckoning smile, knowing just how much of herself was revealed and waiting for him to melt under the force of her sexiness.

Sadly, Raemon didn’t seem to be affected. He acknowledged her with a brief, civil nod and took the hand she offered for a handshake.

“Ms. Scott,” he said.

Lila giggled. “Please, call me Lila. We’re friends now, remember?”

“I was just thanking your father for the invitation,” Raemon said, all civility.

Lila let her hand brush against his arms in a subtly seductive motion.

“Liar,” Lila said, “I practically had to beg you to come here. You really know how to play hard-to-get, don’t you?”

“Erm…Lila, dear, why don’t we let one of the staff show our guests to their rooms?” Mr. Scott cut in.

“Guests?” Lila asked. She then noticed Octavia. “You,” she said coldly, her coquettish smile morphing into a venomous look.

“Hiya,” Octavia said with a smile.

“You remember my assistant, Octavia,” Raemon said.

“What’s she doing here?” Lila asked with a scowl.

“She’s here with me,” Raemon said. “I need her help for my work.”

Lila’s eyes shot back to Raemon. “Work? No! You can’t work; you’re here on vacation! Send her back!”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that,” Raemon said in a bored voice. “Regardless of what I’m here for, I have work that needs to be done, and I need my assistant with me to do it.”

“Why can’t someone else do it for you?” Lila demanded.

“If someone else could do my work for me, I wouldn’t be the CEO of my own company, don’t you think?” Raemon said.

“But you’re supposed to spend your time here with me. Not…I don’t know…running numbers with this”—Lila gestured toward Octavia like she was a living pile of dog shit—“person.”

Octavia let the corner of her mouth twitch in amusement.

“Darling,” Mr. Scott cut in, sounding a touch anxious, “Raemon is the owner of a very important company. He has to work a lot, you know. I’m sure he’ll spare whatever time he can to be with you,”

Lila’s scowl only deepened. “I don’t see why he can’t spend all his time with me. What’s the point of his dumb assistant if she can’t do his work for him?”

She turned her chin up at Raemon. “I think you should look for a better assistant.”

Raemon merely raised an eyebrow at Lila’s words. His expression barely changed, but there was an air of disapproval emanating from him. You could practically feel it.

Miraculously, Lila seemed to feel the change in the atmosphere and suddenly forced her scowl to vanish.

“At least promise you won’t spend the whole time working? You’ll do some fun things with me?” Lila said, giving him that sexy, come-hither smile again.

“Of course, he will,” Mr. Scott answered hurriedly before Raemon could respond. “Now, let’s let Carlton show them to their rooms.”

Mr. Scott gestured to the man Octavia assumed was a butler, a dark-haired gentleman in a formal suit who had been hovering a few feet from them. “They need to get ready for the dinner party tonight.”

Octavia inwardly groaned. God no, not a party. ~Please say I don’t have to go,~ she silently prayed.

“That’s right!’ Lila said, her face brightening. “We’re having a little get-together here, in honor of your visit of course. Pretty much anyone who’s anyone is coming.

“It should be fun. And,” Lila started, stressing that her next words would be of considerable importance, “I’ll be wearing the most gorgeous dress you could imagine.

“It’s custom designed by one of the biggest fashion houses in Milan. Wait till you see me in it. I’ll bet I can change your mind about spending this whole trip working.”

Raemon calmly ignored the bait Lila shamelessly threw at him. “Thank you, but you all really didn’t have to trouble yourselves with a social gathering on my account. I feel welcome enough already.”

“Heh, heh,” Mr. Scott chuckled, “no trouble at all. We’re proud to host you.”

Octavia smirked to herself. As if they would pass up the chance to subtly rub it in the faces of their acquaintances that THE Raemon Kentworth was a guest in their home.

Mr. Scott had basically stated as much.

“I’ll retire then,” Raemon said. “No doubt my assistant will wish to do the same.”

“Of course,” Mr. Scott said, “the party’s in three hours—seven p.m. You have plenty of time. Carlton, show our guests to their rooms, please.”

As the two followed Carlton up a grand flight of stairs, Octavia pulled Raemon aside.

“Hey, I don’t have to go to this thing, do I?” she said in a hushed voice, eyeing Carlton’s stiff, rigid back warily.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Raemon said.

Octavia sighed. “Great. What a relief.”

“Of course…I would prefer it if you were there,” Raemon said.

Octavia glared at her boss. “Meaning I have to come, don’t I?”

“Exactly,” Raemon said.

Octavia’s shoulders drooped. “I hate you so much.”

“I won’t trouble you for a dance then,” Raemon said breezily.

Carlton stopped first at Raemon’s room, then led Octavia to hers.

“The visiting staff guest room, madam,” he announced, opening to door for her.

Octavia realized that her gracious hosts, not having expected her presence, did not prepare a grand suite for her.

She’d peeked into Raemon’s room and seen what looked like the presidential suite at the fanciest of hotels.

She hadn’t expected anything half as good as what he got, but the room Carlton showed her was still fancy in her opinion.

It was a large space with a king-sized bed at the far end and two walk-in closets on each side.

The side nearer the door had a sitting area with a sofa and two armchairs, a flat-screen mounted to the wall above a fireplace, and large glass doors leading out to a small balcony.

Carlton had announced “the visiting staff guest room” as if he were saying “the doghouse,” so Octavia had been expecting a little hovel under the stairs or something like that.

If this is what these people thought of as miserable accommodation, she’d gladly pay rent for a space in their doghouse.

“Your luggage,” Carlton said, gesturing to the stacks of bags placed on the floor of the room. Octavia noticed the various pieces of luxury luggage cases scattered around the room.

“Um, all of it?” she said.

Carlton nodded.

“Shit,” Octavia said under her breath, “Mrs. Santos really is thorough.”

After Carlton backed out of the room gracefully and closed the door, Octavia started flinging open the clothes cases to see what she had to work with.

Her opinion on Mrs. Santos had soon risen to sky-high heights. All the clothes and shoes in the luggage cases were the best kind of brands.

She spotted a few luxury names here and there, and it was unlikely anything in the assortment was under $100 dollars, she guessed.

But what Octavia found most fascinating was that it was all the exact kinds of things she would wear—things she actually liked.

Oversized, bright-colored sweaters. Loose, baggy jeans. Dark, soft leggings. Bright-patterned T-shirts. Loose, colorful blouses.

Colorful, patterned socks and sneakers of all kinds and colors. In one particular case was a set of different-colored Converse—all in her exact size.

There was even a pair of rainbow Converse with multicolored laces—Octavia hadn’t even seen that kind on the store shelves.

And the wonderful woman had remembered underwear. She found every kind of underwear stacked in sealed bags in one of the cases. Everything from briefs to boy shorts was included.

She had an assortment of bras—exercise bras, sports bras, lace-trimmed bras, wireless, strapless, nude, black, white, organic, silk-lined…she had it ALL.

And everything fit. In fact, Octavia almost felt that Mrs. Santos had picked out clothes that fit better than the ones she’d bought for herself in the past.

“I need my own Mrs. Santos!” Octavia said with an appreciative whine, looking over the bounty of clothes and shoes surrounding her.

She pulled a soft pink hoodie out of one suitcase and slipped it over her own clothes, reveling in the crisp, cotton material caressing her skin.

She vowed to pester Raemon into giving his housekeeper a raise. Several raises, in fact.

After tearing through every suitcase of clothing and fairly drooling over each pair of different-colored Converse, Octavia sank onto the carpeted floor and looked around.

“Damn it, now I need something for the stupid dinner thing.”

She frowned at the bright-blue Converse on her left foot and the soft pink on her right. She had a feeling mismatched Converse would not be the right look for the party.

She caught sight of something else in the corner—a clothes rack with several items in garment bags hanging on the rack. Octavia jumped up and walked to it, then unzipped one of the covers.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed. Mrs. Santos had done it again. A deep-violet garment emerged from the covering.

As Octavia held the garment up by its hanger, she realized it was an exquisite formal dress. It was a deep-violet with a simple cord cinching it high at the waist.

It had short, draping sleeves that billowed at the shoulders and a drooping neckline that would reveal a touch of skin.

Feeling the luxurious fabric in her hands, Octavia appreciated that the dress was light, comfortable, and—this she felt made Mrs. Santos the real MVP—a color that would hide any kind of food stain.

Octavia also found a pair of shoes to go with the dress. They were deep, velvety green flats with ribbons for straps that were meant to be laced up to the shins.

The velvety bright color made up for their flatness, making them elegant enough to go with the incredible dress.

“Well, that’s sorted out,” Octavia said happily, hanging the dress back up on the rack. “Now for another nap.”

With that, she jumped onto the bed, shut her eyes, and sank into a deep sleep.

It was her phone buzzing that woke her up. She groggily sat up and fumbled around for the device.

“Hello?” Octavia mumbled.

“Thought you would be asleep,” Raemon’s voice said. “I knew I’d have to wake you in time for the dinner tonight.”

Octavia yawned. “I told you I was playing video games all last night. And now I have to sit through the snooze-fest that is rich people acting like they know how to party.”

She yawned again. “Ugh…I’d rather be facing actual disease-ridden zombies.”

“Well, depending on what kind of people the Bridlington-Scotts invite to this thing, you may be doing just that,” Raemon said.

“I’ll meet you downstairs in an hour. You better not take too long getting ready.”

“God forbid I wasn’t ready on time and you’d have to leave without me,” she said with a sleepy smile.

“I’d tell our gracious hosts to halt the whole thing, and we’d wait for you,” Raemon responded instantly. “There’s no way you could miss this.”

Octavia snorted and hung up. Then she stumbled off the bed.

“I’m coming back to you, I promise,” she said with an emotional sniff to the rumpled bedcover.

And with that, she began to prepare herself for the night ahead.