Author's Note: Thanks for the PM, Singingsilent. Glad you're enjoying the story. :)
Stevens opened the large front wooden door, and Mr. Port carried her in his arms up the front steps. It was like every girl's dream of living in a castle. And what lay inside stole her breath away.
The gleaming stone floor stretched across the expansive foyer. Rich wood architecture embraced elegant archways that led to several rooms on each side of the entryway. Roses and vines rose out of the woodwork over the doorways, climbing up to the cathedral ceiling where white crystal chandeliers caught the sunlight cascading through skylights. Antique decorations and lavish paintings of nature graced the walls, adding to the mystical beauty.
At the far end of the foyer, a grand stone staircase welcomed them home. The light stone brightened the room, bringing out the gleam of the wood walls. A mahogany carpet cloaked the stairs, guarded on each side by pedestals holding nearly life-size stone statues of exquitely beautiful Greek women draped in robes. The landing of the stairs split up to the left and right. Stone angels guarded the very top of the stairs as they approached.
"Too much?"
She startled, broken out of the magical spell. Her eyes shifted to him. He watched her, as if honestly desiring her approval. Why did it matter what she thought of his home when she'd only be here a few months? "It's beautiful." Antique knight armor caught her attention as he stepped onto the second floor. She looked at him in question.
"On occassion, I travel for business. If I find something that seems to be valuable at a backalley store, I purchase it and then sell it, usually to a museum. That armor I found in Spain."
"Are you selling it?"
"I expect the sale to close tomorrow." He continued walking down the hall, offerig his profile as he spoke.
Her brow furrowed. "May I ask how much it's worth?"
"$600,000," he said, as if he'd just said he had found a penny on the sidewalk.
Her jaw fell. It would take her more than a decade of working to make that much money. His assets must be worth several billion dollars. That must be why he kept his face hidden.
Then it dawned that even though the house was lit well enough to keep from running into walls, most of the windows' curtains were drawn. He seemed to keep in the darkest shadows and avoid direct sunlight. Was he allergic to light? An incredibly rare allergy, but it wasn't unheard of. But, he wore the mask even at night in the dark. It couldn't be a photosensitivity.
"Do you need anything?"
She looked around in confusion. They must've entered her room while she'd been staring at him.
He eased her onto the bed and stepped back into the dimmer side of the room.
Before she could respond, Trudy came huffing and puffing. "I can't do the stairs that fast." The woman dropped into a chair and mopped her brow.
Stevens stepped in and propped the crutches against the footboard. Then he turned and looked at Mr. Port, as if awaiting instructions.
She blushed when her gaze followed Steven's to see Mr. Port looking at her expectantly. "Oh! No, I'm alright, thank you."
"Make a list of things you'd like Stevens to retrieve from your apartment. There's nowhere to land the helicopter, so he'll fetch your things by car."
"But, I don't have my keys. Are the roads even clear enough?"
"Don't worry about that. Just give Ms. Van Hoodie your list." With a nod that almost appeared to be a slight bow, he headed out of the room. Stevens followed. He stopped for a moment and told Trudy, "Have those things packed for her and fetch me if needed. I'll depart in five hours, if she isn't sleeping."
"Yes, sir."
Then he disappeared. It was as if he'd taken all of the sunlight out of the room with him.
Her heart beat wildly as she waited in her parka-and boots that had magically appeared, along with a pair of jeans, sweaters, and undergarments in a massive walk-in closet next to her bathroom. Trudy had helped her pack them, along with a few of her own things Stevens had retrieved.
It had been impossible to nap knowing she'd be alone with Mr. Port in just a few hours. He was mysterious and intoxicating in a way that was so unfamiliar. He seemed to have a big heart, and his manner and language spoke of intelligence. What did he do with the money? Why was he so secretive? How had Stevens and Trudy come into his employment? The questions would have to wait. Trudy had evaded them, and experience said Mr. Port wouldn't be pleased to have these questions posed to him. Perhaps in time he would.
Heavy footsteps sounded, and she grabbed the crutches to stand. It would be rude to make him wait when he'd been so hospitable for so many days. And, it would do no good to get on her employer's bad side before even starting the job, if she accepted.
He entered, already wearing his parka but it wasn't zipped. The ski mask must be hot enough indoors. Trudy had darkened the room ten minutes previous, for some reason. "Are you ready, Ms. Hoplin?"
Even her formal name on his lips sent warm shivers up her spine.
"She's all packed, don'tcha know. Protested about takin' the clothes, like a billy goat on a hill, but I told her that you insisted," Trudy answered. She seemed anxious for them to go, for some reason.
He cleared his throat pointedly. "Ms. Hoplin can speak for herself."
Trudy looked sheepish. Bustling forward, Trudy gave her a hug. "You take care. I'll have your room as fresh as a newborn babe when you return, don'tcha know." Then she dabbed at her eyes and scurried out.
So Trudy did know about the job offer. She looked at him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose through his mask, as if exasperated. "You don't have to make a decision yet." Dropping his hand, he looked at her in the dim room. "Should you decide to return, this is Steven's number." He held out a piece of paper. "I'll be away on business for the next couple weeks. You're welcome to return as soon as you wish. The study downstairs will be ready with your work, and instructions will be written out."
She took it and frowned at him. "You're expecting a 'yes.'"
Taking a step closer so they were mere inches apart, he held her eyes. His voice dropped to an intimate level. "You want to say 'yes.'"
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She cocked an eyebrow. "I do, do I? You're confident, Mr. Port."
White teeth gleamed through the slit of the mask, and his eye crinkled in the outer corner. If she had a clear view of his face, it probably would have worn a smirk. "No, I know you, Ms. Hoplin." His finger slowly traced her rapid pulse down her neck.
Her heart skipped a beat, and every nerve zeroed in on his perfect touch. Something low in her belly began to ache.
"Your heart beats abnormally fast when I'm around," he said, his voice husky.
She frowned and opened her mouth to protest. But his hand glided down her arm and captured her hand away from where she gripped the crutch.
He set her hand over his heart and held it there.
The words froze on her lips. His heart pounded as rapidly as hers through his sweater, and his heat burned her hand. She met his eye, her heart thundering even faster. The aching flowed down and melted into a gentle throbbing between her thighs. She wanted to step into his arms, wanted to feel his lips against hers as she fell into his gaze...
What was she doing? There was nothing special about her that would capture a billionaire's attention for more than a fleeting few days. She swallowed hard and pulled her hand away, jerking herself out of his spell. Squaring her shoulders, she said, "You would not comment on Ms. Van Hoodie's pulse as your employee, Mr. Port. I expect the same treatment, should I accept your offer. We should be going." Then she proceeded to hobble toward the door on her crutches.
He remained silent for a moment. "My apologies, Ms. Hoplin." A hint of amusement lightened his voice. Then he fell into step beside her, carrying the small suitcase. "Am I allowed to offer to carry you?"
She didn't stop or look at him, even though her underarms begged for relief from the chaffing. She didn't trust herself with him at the moment. "I'm perfectly capable."
"And perfectly in pain." He caught a crutch, slowing her to a halt. "It isn't a race to get out of here. I'll behave." Then he took the crutch and disappeared down the hall. He returned a moment later with a styrofoam sheet wrapped around as cushioning at the top of the crutch. He handed it back to her.
It cushioned like a cloud compared to before. "Thank you." She relinquished the other crutch.
He traded her his cell phone. "Call your parents and have someone come to pick you up. I have permission to land at an airport near O'Hare." He gave her the time and location they'd arrive in Chicago.
It felt like a dream. The scenery was beautiful, from the mountains to farmland as they crossed the country. The two of them didn't speak much, mostly because of the noise and he had to be in frequent contact with the various air towers, but he pointed sights out here and there. It was the most companionable silence she'd ever experienced, and she didn't want it to end yet.
They approached the City of Chicago skyline at dusk.
"Can I take a picture?"
He pulled his cell out of his pocket and handed it to her.
She snapped a photo of the skyline that glowed as it came to life with the lights of the city. With a smile, she handed it back to him. "Can you fly back in the dark?"
"It's best to avoid flying a helicopter after dark. I'm staying at a hotel for the night."
"Do you want to stay...?" Her words faded away. Him staying with the family would raise a thousand questions about the ski mask.
"Thank you, but the hotel is probably best." Then he contacted the tower for landing clearance as the runway came into view. "Would you grab the helmet behind me?"
She spotted a helicopter helmet with a sunvisor tucked behind his seat. He wanted it to hide the mask. It would be too dark to wear it for landing, so she held it in her lap until he was ready.
Her parents waited on the side of the runway, along with airport staff. They landed, and he put on the helmet. She had to figure out how to keep her parents from meeting him and making it suspicious that he wore a helmet.
As fast as she could, she unbuckled as the airport staff came to open the chopper door. She reached to take off the headset, but a warm hand stopped her. She looked at him.
"Think about the job offer, Ms. Hoplin," he said through the mic as the blades wound down.
She nodded. "I will." The door opened, and she slipped out as quickly as possible on her crutches.
Her parents embraced her. "Oh, your face," Mom sniffled, crying tears of relief that her baby hadn't died in the accident.
"I should thank this Jason Port," her dad said.
But before she had to think up an excuse, she glanced behind her to see the helicopter empty. "I'm really sore. I'm sure he'll understand if we go."
"Of course, baby," Mom said and helped her to the car.
She sat in the backseat of the car, not hearing a word her parents said as they drove away. Her eyes scanned the terminal and landed on a lone figure in the shadows near a shed. Something tugged at her heart. She raised her hand in case he could see her, but he didn't move. Twisting in her seat, she watched him until he faded out of sight. Then she faced forward and stared at the floor. He'd wanted to come; she could feel it. But the mask kept him prisoner. Such a lonely life he led. No one who seemed as kind as him would chose to live so isolated. Something else forced him into the darkness, something not related to money or allergies. If only he would tell her.