Chapter One

 

 

 

"A Mr. Preston is here to see you, ma'am," said Thomas, the aging butler. Tall, thin, with carefully styled gray hair, he looked more like an undertaker than a butler. He wore a dark suit and an inscrutable expression. He was standing in the doorway of the well-appointed den, looking down at Mrs. Evelyn Rothschild, who was seated at the large desk, sorting through papers. James Preston stood quietly in the hallway, waiting for permission to enter.

"Oh, right! That's right. I had almost forgotten. Show him in," she said. Evelyn was a stunning blonde woman in her mid-forties, but she appeared to be ten years younger, James noted. Her good looks were no doubt kept up by hours in the gym and the most expensive beauty products ever made. And perhaps the expertise of a skilled plastic surgeon. Today she was wearing a somber black blazer from which the edges of a lacy black bra peeked. He could not see her skirt from there, but James imagined it to be black, mid-thigh accented by dark, fuck-me stockings. Although still in mourning, she could not hide her sexuality.

James walked past the butler and gave him a cursory nod. Thomas ignored him and turned to Evelyn. "Would you like me to stay, ma'am?"

"Oh, no, that won't be necessary. Mr. Preston is a friend of my husband's."

"Very well, ma'am." He started to leave.

"Wait, Thomas," she added. "The car dealer called - they have the Mercedes ready. Would you take Paul down to the garage so he can pick it up, please?"

Thomas glanced over at James and he knew what he was thinking: Can this man be trusted with the vulnerable widow? To the old butler, he probably looked well-muscled and dangerous, with close-cropped dark hair and the edge of a tattoo peeking from the collar of his white shirt. Evelyn apparently caught the look.

"Relax, Thomas. My husband always spoke highly of Mr. Preston."

Thomas hesitated just a moment. "Very well, ma'am." He left.

James came in and stood in front of the desk. She looked up at him and said, "Yes, what did you want to see me about?"

He took the light blue envelope from the inside pocket of his dark blue sport coat and handed it over. "Your husband gave me this a few months ago, when he knew..." He trailed off. Her husband, Charles, had known for months he didn't have long to live. His wealth couldn't save him from cancer. She took the letter and studied the handwriting. Her eyes widened when she recognized it as Charles'. Her eyes flicked up to James' face.

"What's all this, then?"

"Your husband was worried about you. He wanted you to be taken care of, after he was gone."

She frowned. "And ... what? You're going to do that?"

He tipped his head. "If you'd like. I was asked by him personally to deliver this letter exactly two weeks after he passed away. He ordered me not to open it, and I haven't. But he did tell me that I was the best person he knew to help keep an eye out for you."

Evelyn raised her eyebrows. "Did he now?" She picked up a letter opener, slit the envelope and pulled out the single-page letter within. She began to read.

While she did, James studied her. He liked the way her tongue peeked out from her ruby red lips as she read and how her breasts swelled with emotion as they pressed against the blazer. Her hand came up to brush away some stray hairs from her forehead, and that small act made his cock twitch. He knew quite a bit about her - a lot more than he had let on. Charles was a smart man and he realized that once he was gone, she'd be vulnerable to any con man or charlatan who came along. He wanted her to be protected, yes, but he also wanted her to get what she needed. That was where James came in. Charles had recognized in James a kindred spirit. They had become friends over the last two years, even before he knew he was dying. After his diagnosis, Charles had tried to set up the company to continue smoothly after he had passed on.

But how to prepare his wife for losing her man?

Charles had been nearly twenty years older than his "trophy wife" and had known this day would come, but he had not been prepared for it to happen so quickly. His plans had to be adjusted on the fly and he had sought out James for a rather delicate matter. Hence, the letter.

He watched as she read it, her eyebrows frowning. She looked up, "I'm not sure I understand."

"It is as he said. He's worried about you. He's afraid men might take advantage of you."

"So he's going to protect me from the grave by sending you? And what if I don't want your help?"

"That's your prerogative," he said. "The letter, as I've been told, is merely a suggestion. He loved you very much and he only had your best interests in mind."

"Yes, and I loved him."

He saw a glint in her eyes and she turned away to blink back tears. When she turned back, she was back under control. "This is most impertinent of him. And you."

"I was asked to do your husband a favor, a dying wish, if you will." He stepped around the desk and approached her. She seemed to shrink back in the chair. As he had guessed, she had on a mid-thigh-length black skirt and black stockings. "If you ask me to leave, of course I will. But your husband chose me for a reason, don't you think?"

She stared up at him, her lower lip trembling. Her hands shook as she dropped the letter on the desk. "What are you doing?"

James knew the real question she wanted to ask was: How much did he tell you? He decided to answer that one, instead.

"He told me quite a bit about you."

She froze. "Yes?" Her eyes flicked back to the letter.

"Yes. I realize this is sudden. I'm not here to make you uncomfortable. In fact, quite the opposite. I'm here to make sure you get what you need and that no one takes advantage of you."

"But..." She licked her lovely lips. "But who will protect me from you?"

"Do you feel you are in danger?"

He gave her an open, honest look while she studied him. They had met once before - Charles had seen to that. He had invited James home for dinner one night and they had passed a pleasant evening. Charles had introduced him as his "travel planner" and James had done his best to charm Evelyn and make her feel comfortable around him. It apparently had worked.

"No, I guess I don't. I mean, if Charles thinks you're trustworthy..."

"I had a lovely time at dinner that night. You were a gracious and beautiful hostess."

She seemed flattered by that and she relaxed a bit. "Still, for Charles to send you like this..."

"He had his reasons. May I show you?" He reached down and grabbed her upper right arm without waiting for permission. She gasped.

He pulled her up out of the chair as if she weighed nothing and turned her around to face the desk. He pressed her thighs up against it. She struggled.

"Let me go! What are you doing?"

His hand stole under her skirt and he noted at once she was wearing stockings with a garter belt. His hand rose up until he touched her bare pussy. No panties, just as Charles had said.