The annoying buzz of his cell phone woke Damien. He always left his phone on silent at night. So he was disgruntled to realize the one night he had failed to do so resulted in an early morning text that disturbed his sleep.

Deciding to read the text before condemning the sender, he read it twice. The first time his eyes were too blurry to focus. His real estate agent was informing him that an offer had been made on his recently departed grandmother's home. Relieved it was not some emergency, he decided he would ignore the text until later that day. The sheer nerve of that ignoramus to send a text at 7:41am on a Wednesday. One of the few, precious days that he was allowed to sleep in.

Try as he may, he was unable to fall back to sleep, so at 8:20, he wearily rolled out of bed. As was his custom, he headed straight to the bathroom. Turning on his shower allowing it time to more than adequately heat it, he took care of other necessary morning duties.

Once he was in the hot shower, he began to recite Galileo to himself, in Latin of course. It was his sacred duty to expand his own knowledge. So today, he would continue dissecting the teachings of Socrates.

Once his morning routine was complete, he headed to the kitchen. His breakfast was ready as expected. His housekeeper was very well informed of his exacting high standards. Once she heard his shower in the morning, she was to begin his breakfast. He of course left a menu of meals he expected to be cooked. He would not tolerate any deviation to his rigid schedule.

Once he was settled and preparing to eat, his phone alerted him to another message. Taking a deep, calming breath, Damien ignored the phone and continued to read the Wall Street Journal.

After breakfast, he headed to his study, he would allot only two hours for the business of handling the massive estate bequeathed to him from his late grandmother. She had once been immensely wealthy after marrying into a noble family in Europe.

This task was of the utmost importance and he could not afford to waste a moment of time. With that in mind, he decided he would deal with the "urgent" business with the realtor.

"Mr. Sandow, I am so pleased that you returned my call. This buyer is very interested in your grandmother's estate. I know it's not customary but she has requested a meeting with you."

"Steven, I was implicit that this be done in a discreet manner. I cannot express how unseemly this is. Once this woman is aware of who the estate belonged to, she will most assuredly try to negotiate the price down."

"Sir, I understand that you had wished this to be settled privately, but I can assure you this woman means no harm. She only wishes to discuss purchasing the house furnished."

"She cannot possibly expect me to allow her to own my grandmother's antiques. Every piece of furniture is a priceless heirloom to the Sandow family. I only allowed the pieces to stay at your insistence that the house would sell much quicker if it was on full display."

Damien pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to moderate his breathing. He was not the most patient of men. A trait that had been handed down to him by his father and grandfather. It was known in his family that they had a fiery, swift temper that should never be provoked.

After several rebuffs, Damien finally agreed to meet the woman that afternoon. He called his grandmother's butler. Since he was being nagged into meeting this nuisance of a woman, he would insist on high tea at her estate. He would exemplify his full status of a titled gentleman.

He contacted his driver. He rarely used him but today was about making a statement. He would use every resource at his disposal to show this woman that he was not to be trifled with. He could crush her and would not hesitate to do so in a heartbeat.

Hours later, he strolled out of his house. He was dressed in his finest suit. Completely embodying the role, he had been born into, a noble gentleman. When he was honest with himself, he would admit that he detested this part of his life. He may be a bit pompous but he believed having a hierarchical system seemed ancient. The only thing that separated the human species was intelligence not money. Even the most titled could be blithering idiots. He should know, he had associated with many of them when he was at university.

As his car rolled across the pebbled drive, he mentally prepared himself. Adopting the slight accent, he had spoken with as a young child until it had been shown to be a hindrance. Now, he was no longer Damien Sandow. He was Lord Sandow, Earl of Rhodes. It was at most a very minor title but it was a title nonetheless as his mother was fond of saying.

As his driver past through the gates, he took a moment to study the estate grounds. He had hated visiting her as a child. He was never allowed to play outside. He was expected to sit upstairs in the nursery. Being watched by some old nanny. He had no fond memories of this place. He was very much looking forward to divesting himself of it and moving on.

The Lady Dowager had refused to curb her spending. She fully believed that she must maintain a certain image and that not living lavishly would tarnish the Sandow name. Now he was dealing with the debts she had left behind. Bills that she had simply ignored that had incurred interest until every last penny she had in her account was bled dry.

Selling this estate was the only means necessary he had in settling her accounts. Then he would never again acknowledge this part of his life. He would never again answer to Lord Sandow. He would go back to his study and live among his books. Aristotle, Pluto, Socrates, Galileo, and Homer. The only thing that made sense to him.

Regan was growing impatient. She had been in the sitting room for well over 40 minutes now. While she had been a bit early, she knew well enough that she was being asked to wait on purpose. The butler had let his opinion of her be well known. If he had stuck that nose in the air anymore, he may have broken his twig thin neck.

Honestly, such snobbery was so outdated. This was not jolly ole England. It was Kentucky. The man was lucky that her brother had decided to stay back at the office today. Otherwise, he wouldn't be treating her this way. Her brother was very protective of her and he had taken many guys to task for disrespecting her in the past.

She tugged her skirt down. She hated wearing dresses yet she knew that a business suit may not have been the best impression. Especially since she was informed upon arrival that Mr. Sandow had requested she join him for high tea this afternoon. She wasn't even sure she was completely sure what high tea was.

Perhaps, she could add that to the packages once she opened the Bed and Breakfast. She had been looking for a year to find the perfect location. Once she had seen that this estate had been put on the market, she had done enough research that she could write a book. Seriously, who knew that Kentucky had titled gentry living right here in Louisville. Of course, with the Kentucky Derby, it didn't completely surprise her.

She knew it wasn't unusual for Queen Elizabeth to make an appearance at the Derby. And she realized she was mentally rambling. She hated when she rambled. It was a sign of nervousness and Regan Runnels did not show weakness.

If only Cody was here. But Dustin, their eldest brother, had demanded quarterly reports this afternoon. So here she was, alone and uncomfortable, while she waited for the Lord of the Manor to make an appearance.

It was odd that she had never been able to find out the family's name. It was like it was a guarded secret. She wondered how much money had exchanged hands to hide such an important detail. Was it on bequest of Queen Elizabeth for the secrecy? The family itself?

She was so deep in her thoughts, she never heard the door open. When she heard a deep voice behind her, she jumped off the couch, one hand clutching her chest.

"Jiminy crickets, you scared me."

Damien stood behind the chaise. He was slightly amused by her reaction. Had she seriously said jiminy crickets?

He cleared his throat and walked around until he was standing before her. She was quite beautiful with her blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

"I apologize for the delay. I was handling some unexpected estate business."

Regan wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or if he was just a masterful liar. Yet she knew she would have to accept his apology either way. Business was business and she could not allow anything to cloud her judgment. She would not leave until she had the deed to the estate secured.

"I understand. I'm sure being the Lord of the manor involves all manner of daily interruptions."

Damien pasted a fake smile on his face. Holding out an arm, he escorted her from the sitting room. He would play the gracious host if it killed him. He would give her the grand tour. Reeling off facts and little familial tidbits about certain works of art. It was the same spiel his grandmother had given to guest throughout his childhood.

Once they reached the Earl's chambers, he loosened up a little. This had been his grandfather's manner of escape. Even his grandmother would never dare to enter without permission. It would be unseemly. He saw family photos scattered throughout the rooms. Toys sitting by the window. His grandfather's hobby had been repairing anything that he or his cousin's broke.

He saw his grandfather's old pipe still sitting on the desk. He fondly recalled the times he would watch his grandfather pack it with tobacco. He stopped smoking it when Damien was a young boy, but he continued the habit of packing it with fresh tobacco and puffing on it. Even though it was unlit.

Regan was in love with this house. Every room had mesmerized her. She was even more determined to have this house. It would make the most breathtaking setting for a B&B. She turned to ask Damien a question, but the look on his face almost broke her heart. He was holding a pipe, stroking his thumb across the bowl, his eyes closed. She could swear he was lost in a memory.

She strolled into the bedroom attached to the study. It was purely masculine. Everything was dark wood and deep earthen colors. She could almost envision the man in the portrait dressed to go on a hunt. She walked to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. The view was phenomenal. She could see miles and miles of rolling hills, ponds, and even the forest off in the distance.

Damien stood waiting for Regan to finish admiring the view. He had one last section to show her. The one he dreaded the most. His quarters. Too many ugly memories would be dredged up. Yet it was a necessary evil that must be faced head on.

"If you would follow me please."

Regan could hear the bite in his tone. Was he angry that she was taking too long? She knew it was getting late, but this house was just amazing.

Damien led her up a small staircase. Almost hidden in the wall. It was poorly lit and she felt a heaviness in the air. Something wasn't right about this. Why would such a grand house that was filled with luxuries have something so ugly and seemingly sinister? Even the servant's quarters below stairs had felt more lively than this secret passage.

At the top of the staircase was a bolted door. There were at least five locks on it. Each requiring a different key. How very strange. Regan felt a sense of panic. She shouldn't be here. She wanted Cody to call her demanding she return at once.

She started to turn around and head down the stairs but then Damien grabbed her wrist.

"I can assure you we will not be here long. But it is necessary to show you every room in the house."

Without realizing it, Regan slipped her hand into his as they stepped into the small room. A small bed, table, and dresser were the only furnishings. A small light dangled from the ceiling. The miniscule window provided very little light.

The room was dark, dusty, and dank. She could see spider webs covering entire sections of the walls. It was not something she would have ever expected to see in such a grand house.

"What was this room? Why is it so poorly furnished?"

"I'm sorry but I fail to see how that is any concern of yours."

Jerking his hand free, Damien fled the room. Heading down to the hallway below. He felt as if he couldn't breathe. The air was so heavy up there. The memories were consuming him. He needed a stiff drink.

The urge to strike something very hard coursed through his veins. Yet he held true to his belief that violence is never the answer. Knowledge was power and power was how you defeat your enemies.

Regan stood one the bottom step, watching Damien struggle to maintain his composure. She could see that whatever that room was, it had a horrible hold on him. He was not the aloof man he pretended to be all day. This man had real emotions.

She straightened the sleeves of her dress as she waited for him to compose himself. She was determined that one day she would know why that room shook him so badly. But until then, she could fervently promise him that that room once locked, would never be opened again.

The demons chasing him could remain locked away as well. Honestly, it was not as though she had any right to ask. No matter what that room had been, she could personally guarantee it would never serve that purpose again.

She should leave well enough alone and pretend she had not witnessed Damien tremble in fear.

"I beg your indulgence for a moment. I need to step away."

Regan returned to the sitting room. She was ready to start the negotiations. She knew what she was willing to pay and what she was willing to settle for. But her years in college her taught her that you never lay all your cards on the table. You always keep an ace up your sleeve.

She was willing to fight for this estate as long as it took. She would counter his counters until the deal they could strike the perfect deal. This was her forte. This is why Cody had wanted her to lead this campaign. Dustin was the intimidator, Cody was the schmoozer, and Regan was the negotiator. They all played their roles perfectly. Rarely ever did they miscalculate and lose out once they decided to attack.

Now she could sit here with the confidence that she would own this estate. It was only a matter of time. She could see the tiny transformations that she would make. Tiny little tweaks that would take very little time at all. Then they could begin the search for the perfect staff. Another American Dream vacation resort in their holdings.