Chapter 1
Love at first sight.
Well, not first sight; Second sight. No, third sight actually. Love at third sight. And not love, but lust. Definitely lust. Lust at third sight, then.
Kurt inwardly rolled his eyes at himself and his overzealous imagination. He had to remind himself that he didn't believe in fanciful, unrealistic notions like falling in love with someone from nothing other than a pleasing collection of physical attributes. He knew better than that, and he had the bruised and battered heart to prove it. He'd watched too many of those ridiculous romantic comedies that always left him feeling maudlin and ill-content, and yet he still seemed unable to resist them and their impossible fairy tale endings. Deep down he supposed he was a hopeless romantic and always would be.
Swallowing against the dryness in his mouth, he continued to watch as Blaine Anderson, businessman extraordinaire, descended thefront steps of the lavish two-story house and headed with brisk, confident strides towards where Kurt waited at the open rear door of the gleaming, silver Mercedes-Benz.
Dark-haired and dressed in an immaculately tailored charcoal-grey pinstripe suit paired with a stormy purple shirt and black silk tie, the man was breathtaking, right down to the tips of his shining black leather shoes. His chocolate brown hair was artfully arranged in a style of casual curled disarray, suggesting a hint of mischief and rebelliousness in contrast to the otherwise flawless businessman persona. A sleek black leather briefcase was held at his side as he spoke in hushed, urgent tones into what was undoubtedly the latest model of phone. The movement of full, seductive lips allowed Kurt to catch a glimpse of an impressive set of perfect, whiter-than-white teeth.
However, it was the rest of the man's classically handsome face that captivated his attention. Slightly stubbled, tanned skin complimented intelligent and blazing Amber eyes completing the almost too perfect package. Those eyes alone could almost be Kurt's undoing.
Everything about the mans appearance screamed success and self-assuredness. At thirty years of age, only three years older than Kurt, Blaine Anderson was indisputably in his prime and knew how to look his best. This was a man who knew how to use the gifts bestowed upon him by nature to maximum, even devastating, effect.
Liking to be prepared for any given situation, Kurt had done his homework and learnt everything he could about his new employer. Anderson was a self-made man, having begun in the financial markets after completing a business and finance degree at an English university. The man apparently had the proverbial Midas touch, whether through skill or luck, or a combination of both, and after only a few short years he had moved back to New York, started his own managed fund company and was soon running a sizeable investment portfolio. Since then he'd been steadily increasing his business interests and amassed a personal fortune in the process. Anderson continued to maintain a home in London, and Kurt expected some trips over the pond would be a part of his new job. Blaine had been born in Columbus Ohio, he has an older brother, and his parents were retired and now living in Cape Cod. That was pretty much the extent of what Kurt had been able to find out about his new employers background and private life.
The fact that Kurt was attracted to confident and experienced older men only served to further heighten Anderson's appeal, and he began to wonder if he'd made a mistake in accepting this new position. Being in the presence of this unattainable example of masculine beauty six days a week could be less of a blessing and more of a curse. Yet, he'd be lying if he said the man hadn't intrigued him from the first time he'd laid eyes on him, and it was partly that fascination that had been his reason for accepting the position. He enjoyed being a chauffeur, but he didn't actually need the job at the moment and could have devoted his time to other endeavours instead.
Squaring his shoulders and resisting the urge to straighten his tie and smooth down the lapels of his tailored suit, Kurt kept his hands clasped firmly behind his back, holding his black cap out of sight. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he held his features in a mask of polite impassivity, hoping his errant thoughts didn't betray him. Fortunately, the expensive vehicle at his side and the surroundings of the Anderson estate didn't faze him in the least. Located in White Plains, the home was undeniably impressive with its gated entrance, cobbled semi-circular driveway and manicured gardens, the brown brick house itself imposing with its pillared entrance and tall, white-trimmed windows. Having been in the employ of one of New Yorks richest men for the better part of five years, Kurt was used to the trappings of the very wealthy. Even the enormous garage at the rear of the house containing Anderson's collection of exotic cars hadn't particularly daunted or surprised him. Taking care of the collection on behalf of its owner really wasn't going to be much of a chore. If he could only manage to achieve a similar level of insouciant indifference to the man himself...
His new employer slipped his phone into the breast pocket of his jacket and turned his attention towards Kurt, a frown creasing his forehead as he came to a stop beside the beckoning car door.
Trying not to flinch under the man's intent gaze and standing a little straighter, Kurt offered up perfect posture and a small, polite smile. "Good morning, Sir."
Blaine's frown didn't falter. "You're my new chauffeur?" he asked.
"Yes, that's right." Kurt gave a courteous tip of his head. "Hummel, Sir. Kurt Hummel."
"How old are you?" Blaine asked, his curt tone suggesting he wasn't used to being denied answers.
Kurt was tempted to tell the man to mind his own damn business, but he maintained the polite countenance that he had developed to perfection. He'd long accepted that his boyish features made him look a number of years younger than his actual age. He supposed that at some point it would be something he was grateful for, and if he reached the ripe old age of forty and still looked only thirty, he'd then consider it a definite plus. Regardless, Blaine could easily find out his age from his employment records, so it was pointless not to answer honestly.
"Twenty seven, Sir" he replied in an even tone.
Blaine's features took on an expression of mild surprise, but he continued to scrutinise Kurt. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Have we met before? You look familiar."
Unsurprised that Blaine didn't remember their previous two encounters, such as they were, Kurt nodded. "You might have noticed me at Henry Parker's funeral. I was Mr. Parker's chauffeur." Given Blaine's apparent doubts about him, he added as an afterthought, "For almost five years." He cleared his throat before further adding, "You also saw me once at Mr. Parker's home."
"Oh. Yes, right." Blaine had the grace to look mildly sheepish before regaining his composure. "Henry was a good man."
"He was, Sir," Kurt agreed, his throat tightening with the words. "A very good man."
Blaine, of course, probably had no idea of what Kurt's former employer had meant to him, the elderly man having been akin to a surrogate grandfather to Kurt in many ways. When Henry had been bedridden by illness, and Kurt's services as chauffeur no longer required, he'd spent his days in those final three months at Henry's bedside, reading to him and keeping him company. Henry had passed away at the end of June, just over two months ago, finally succumbing to a prolonged battle with cancer. Kurt had been with him at the end, holding the man's frail hand in his own, and he continued to feel the loss of his former employer deeply. Henry had been a cantankerous and grumpy man all the time Kurt had known him, but he'd also had an inquisitive and sharp mind, a dry sense of humour, and beneath the brusque exterior had been a kind and compassionate man. He'd also shown astonishing generosity to the people he valued in his life, as Kurt could attest to personally.
Discomforted by the swell of emotion and Blaine's searching gaze, Kurt lowered his eyes to the floor. "Shall we go, Sir? To your offices in the city?" Forcing himself to meet the other man's eyes again, he added, "Miss Fabray provided me with your itinerary for the week."
Quinn Fabray was Blaine's assistant who had met Kurt at the house the day before to show him around and give him access to the garage and the house itself, of which Kurt was permitted to enter via the service entrance at the back and use the facilities offered by the kitchen and downstairs bathroom. Blaine had been on a business trip to London until the evening before, which was why Kurt was only now meeting him properly.
Like many wealthy people, Blaine Anderson employed a small team to deal with the mundane details of his life, although Blaine's team was modest. In addition to Quinn, and now Kurt, there was a household cleaning crew that came in one day a week and a gardening contractor who took care of the grounds. In addition to driving Blaine around and taking care of his cars, Kurt's duties included dropping off and picking up laundry and dry cleaning, accepting food deliveries, and any other errands Blaine decided to bestow upon him. Kurt had immediately liked the quiet and efficient Quinn, who had explained that while she was primarily Blaine's assistant in business matters she also looked after his household needs when required, such as finding Blaine a new chauffeur. She'd seemed relieved by Kurt's arrival, Blaine having been without a chauffeur for several weeks since the departure of his previous man. Quinn had explained that Blaine valued his privacy, which explained the lack of any other full-time staff despite the substantial size of the house.
As far as he knew, Blaine didn't have a partner or significant other, and he thought Blaine must be rather lonely rattling around in such a big house on his own. Personally, he preferred the cosy comfort of his modestly sized two-bedroom apartment in Scarsdale, he supposed wealthy men like Blaine had to spend their money on something, and from his research he knew that Blaine was a generous philanthropist. Blaine had likely worked hard to amass his riches, and Kurt didn't begrudge the man whatever excesses he chose to indulge in. He just wasn't sure he saw the point if there wasn't anyone to share it with. Money could solve a great many problems and make life considerably easier, but it couldn't guarantee happiness. He wondered if someone like Blaine Anderson was genuinely happy. He doubted it, unless the man was so superficial that the only things he cared about was wealth and success.
Blaine nodded. "Good. Did Quinn explain your duties?"
"Yes, Sir," Kurt replied.
Blaine swung his briefcase into the car. "Okay, well, if you have any questions, just let me know." He paused as he stepped into the back seat, a glint of amusement in those shrewd, captivating amber eyes. "And, Hummel? There's no need to call me Sir. Blaine is fine."
Kurt carefully weighed his words before responding. He decided that he needed to keep things as businesslike as possible with his obscenely attractive new boss, who was even more stunning up close, much to Kurt's chagrin. He also happened to wear aftershave which smelled amazing.
"If it's all the same to you, I prefer to keep things on a formal basis." He offered Blaine an apologetic smile. "It's, uh... it's what I'm used to."
A flicker of irritation passed over Blaine's features, but he shrugged and climbed into the car. "Suit yourself."
Holding back a grimace at his first misstep, Kurt gently closed the door and tugged on his cap. He prided himself on his efficiency, competence and professional etiquette, and he hated to get on an employer's bad side at any time, especially within the first few minutes of the very first day.
As he settled into the driver's seat and turned on the car's ignition, he glanced in the rear-view mirror to see that Blaine had extracted a slim laptop from his briefcase. His head was lowered, his gaze fixed on the screen, his new chauffeur apparently already forgotten.
Stifling a sigh, Kurt slipped the car into gear and navigated around the curved driveway, out through the electric wrought iron gates, into the quiet street, and headed towards Manhattan.