Mr. Mitchell: Chapter 4

Isat in awe in the back of the Rolls Royce as a blacked-out Mercedes SUV trailed us while leaving the city. Jim mentioned that his job prompted extra security, which made me wonder who the hell the man could possibly piss off in this line of work.

The men in suits who worked for Jim looked and acted like secret agents. Still, while I listened in on their conversations, I realized it was all reasonably casual and proper talk. I concluded that Jim must have just been some rich guy who was probably used to having superfluous things at his disposal, like a security detail. I didn’t know about life as a socialite or a debutant or whatever-the-fuck you called living a lifestyle like this. Don’t think I wasn’t going to ask more questions, though.

For now, I was in a world of wonder, staring out at England’s vast countryside of lime green rolling hills, rolling on into the cobalt horizon.

“Damn,” I said while Jim had his head buried in his phone. “You’re totally missing out on this.”

He smiled while tapping away on his phone. “Stunning, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” I said with a laugh of disbelief, “do you live in that device? Planning on fully kidnapping me and throwing me in that black SUV behind us?”

He pulled his sunglasses off, and his green eyes seemed annoyed, yet somewhat amused with my interruption. “Planning out your kidnapping is quite exhausting,” he said, then stopped while his eyes followed mine when we reached a village that belonged in a storybook.

I covered my mouth, completely overtaken by this scene. “Wow,” I said in a breath of astonishment.

Jim’s eyes locked with mine, and his expression tightened in an unusual, yet attractive way. “You’re right,” he said. “I have been missing the views.”

The car slowed through the village, and now I was torn between staring at Jim’s beautiful face and the cozy town we traveled through. “Where are we?” I asked, knowing I couldn’t peel my eyes away from his endearing expression.

“Bibury,” he said. “My place is out between Cotswolds and Gloucestershire. There is a ton of history here and a lot from the Tudor era. It’s what makes this village so noteworthy, in my opinion. I love being out here whenever I come to London. It’s almost as if time stops.”

“Time can’t stop so long as your phone keeps dinging.” I smirked. “God dang, you are a burnt-out businessman, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t have a life.” He chuckled. “Should I be bold and shut it off?”

I pinched my lips together. I didn’t even know the guy, and I could tell the idea of shutting off the phone was like me losing Addison to Derek. “I’d rather you not die of a heart attack. Keep the thing on.” I shrugged while looking out my window. “It’s not breaking my heart.”

“True,” he answered. “However, I didn’t bring you all this way to abandon you completely.”

“Hey, it’s your life, not mine. If that phone is what gives you the luxury of actually owning a place out in fairytale land, do what you gotta do.”

“Hey.” I turned at the change in his low and assertive voice as he spoke into his phone. “Yeah, turning in now. Listen, I’m going off the grid for a while. You got everything while I take a breather for a few hours?”

I watched his right hand as he ticked each finger against the tip of his thumb. Must be a nervous tick. I didn’t mean to force the man to shut it down. I still had no idea what he did, but between the Rolls Royce, the bodyguards, and the thousand-dollar dinner bill, it all pointed to this man either having been born into wealth or, like my sister, he hustled up his money the hard way. The only difference between him and Britney was that he obviously made quite a bit more money than she did.

Must be fucking nice. The only rise to wealth I was experiencing was living on the second floor of my apartment, which I needed to move out of. I could live here easily. Addy running through those hills chasing those sheep? I laughed at the vision of that.

“Something funny?” Jim asked.

I looked over at him. “Just imagining my three-year-old running down those sheep.”

“You miss her?”

“Hell yes.” I smiled. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and hit the lotto so I can bring her here, and we’ll live with the sheep.”

“Why would you care to live among the sheep if you have money to live in one of these adorable cottages?”

“You’re too literal.” I smiled, but then covered my mouth when the driver turned onto a long driveway, and we were traveling back in time to a massive estate. “Jesus Christ, is that the house from Downton Abbey?” I asked as I took in the sprawling estate…home…castle? Whatever the hell this place was, it sat imposingly on groomed lawns with a fountain as the centerpiece while a river wound down to the left of the area. This was in a world of its own.

“No, it’s not Downton Abbey.” He laughed. “That was filmed at another location. I’ve turned down quite a few offers because I prefer the privacy of the place and don’t want it to have any publicity. You wouldn’t believe it, but all of those gray stones that make up the house were nearly in ruins when I determined I wanted to keep this place and bring it back to life when I inherited it.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said as we stopped, and the staff walked out to meet us. “Sorry, change of subject, but are you serious? Is this place real? Are those butlers?”

He smiled and opened his door. “They’re the ones who keep this place alive. Why they feel the need to walk out to greet me, I don’t know. I don’t request it, but they do it every single time. It is quite an honor, though.”

“God dang, Jim, you’re like a king in some castle out here.”

“As I said, time appears to stand still when I come to visit the countryside. I do hope you enjoy a little history as I worked to keep this home as close to that as I could.”

I stepped out of the car and suddenly felt like there was no way I belonged here. Or with him or anywhere near something this endearing.

“You hungry?”

Mind-switch. “Starved,” I said. “Is food awaiting us, kind sir?”

“More food than what was presented on the menu.”

“I could easily move in here. In fact, maybe I will let you kidnap me.”

He chuckled. “Well, my phone is off, and my friend, Alex, is taking all of my business until further notice. So, I believe I can plan it thoroughly now.”

“Funny,” I said, walking up stone steps, watching the gentlemen take our luggage out of the trunk for us in disbelief. “Does everyone always do shit like that for you?”

He smirked as we walked into the house. “It’s no worse than having a bellhop handle my belongings at a hotel, is it?”

“Guess not,” I answered, fully engrossed in the era I felt I was thrown into by this place. “Oh my God. This place is like a museum.”

“I’m happy you approve. Perhaps it will add to the sites of London I stole you away from?”

“That and then some. Never thought I’d be sleeping in one of these grand, historical places.” I followed him up the carpeted steps, looking at portraits from another time that lined the walls as we climbed up. “Did the house come with this? Do you really own this place?”

“It was my grandfather’s estate at one time, and mainly just a pile of old stones and a home that was deteriorating. My grandfather had intentions to renovate it once, but he never had the funding, I imagine. After he passed, I found the blueprints and questioned my father about our family having a place in England.” We turned and walked up another story to this home. “My dad brought my brother and me out here after my mom left.” He stopped and smiled at a portrait of hunters on horseback with dogs running alongside the horses. “I guess I fell in love with the potential. I told my dad that if he didn’t renovate it as my grandfather had tried, I would.”

“And so, you most definitely did.”

“I believe I would have lost interest if it weren’t for my dad saying it was a mere fantasy to take on something this monumental. I spent my vacations from school out here, helping with the carpentry myself.”

“You flew out to help build this castle?”

“I lived out here while I attended Oxford.”

That’s when I knew this man was most likely born into his wealth. “Oxford, huh? As in the prestigious Oxford University?”

“Graduated first in my class. Damn American,” he said in a dramatic voice. “That’s what my UK friends say anyway.” He laughed as he opened double doors to what could’ve been the fucking queen’s bed chambers. He looked at me as I took in this room that had a bed bigger than I’d ever seen, “My friend Alex attended with me, graduating behind me. That pissed them off too, but after a few drinks at the pub, all was well again.”

“So, you are crazy smart, went to a prestigious college, and strapped on a tool belt?”

Okay, this small gesture he hit me with more than once last night—the tight smile while biting the inside of his cheek—it was sexy as hell. I already knew he was overwhelmingly handsome, but he had these expressions that made me want to impulsively kiss him more than once while I ate last night. He’s lucky the food was a fantastic distraction.

“I don’t like limits, and if there’s a challenge, I rise to it. I also hate failing on any level.”

“No wonder why you’re in the businessman life. Careful of that, I saw you with your phone. That thing will have you failing at actual life if you’re not careful.”

“How so?” he said as the men brought in my luggage. “How can I fail by using my phone to keep me from being a prisoner behind office walls? It helps me get out and do things.”

“Well, it’s a matter of perspective, I guess. I’m not one to judge, and I’m not running a business. I can say, though, that by watching you stare at the phone for an hour and a half straight, it seems like you’re in more of a prison than you think. It might be a virtual one, but you’re confined nonetheless.”

His face grew somber, and his eyes raptly studied mine. It was so intense that I had to look away, a bit embarrassed that I’d overstepped my bounds. “You can send me back to London if I’m pissing you off,” I tried to tease.

His lips subtly pulled up on one side. “Why would you believe you pissed me off?”

“The look you’re giving me,” I said.

“Far from that.” His expression recovered, “I’m sorry. Sometimes when I’m lost in thought, I believe I have my old man’s expression. It looks like I’m irritated or angry, I think.”

“Resting bitch face, huh?” I folded my arms. “Well, now I want to know what you were thinking.”

“Yeah, a resting bitch face,” he said, amused by my response. “Well, I was thinking that you keep surprising me. This might sound horribly conceited, but no woman has ever called me out on anything. I’ve never met a woman who was so genuine and authentic before.”

“Well, I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Perhaps you should be.”

“Gonna throw me in the dungeon?” I arched my eyebrow at him.

He laughed, slicing through this weird tension we’d created. “I might.”

“Can I eat something before you get all medieval on me?”

“Lunch. Yes, right.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, quick tour. This is your room; do you approve?”

“Yes. I more than approve, and I might ask you to hire me so I can live here and keep the place up with all of those people who greeted us when we got here.”

He grinned. “Well, they’ve been dismissed to vacation while I’m here, so I would never see you if I visited if I were to hire you on as Adelaile staff. I simply can’t hire you.”

“Damn shame,” I said. “Food?”

“What are you up for eating? Everything is stocked and ready for me to be your personal chef during your stay.”

“I could eat a cow.”

He grinned and turned to guide me out of the room. “Let’s see what I can pull off.”

While I sat across the stone kitchen island, watching Jim chop vegetables like a top chef, I rested my chin on my palm, watching him throw pieces of cut meat into a sauté pan on the gas stove that was built into the island in front of me.

“So, what’s your story, Jim?” I asked, watching him with adoration as he stood there with his sleeves rolled up and his tie thrown over his shoulder, and the most delicious aromas wafted up from that pan.

“My story?” he questioned, pulling out a pot, filling it with water, and placing it on another burner.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sitting here and watching you cook is swiftly turning you into my dream guy.”

He glanced up at me and smiled. “Do you like raw vegetables?”

“I’ll eat anything right now.”

He laughed that sexy-ass laugh, and my heart skipped a beat when he sliced off a piece of a yellow carrot and held it over to my lips. His thick eyebrow arched, his close-lipped smile popped a dimple in his cheek, and I opened my mouth slower than expected for the bite.

My eyes widened while I chewed on the carrot, shocked that it was sweeter and juicier than any carrot I’d ever tasted.

“My God,” I said. “That’s the best carrot I’ve ever tasted. It’s juicy as fuck!”

His eyes glistened in humor, “We grow our vegetables out in the gardens. And yes, I enjoy their juicy as fuck flavors myself.”

“Raw and unhinged juicy flavors,” I pressed.

“Most definitely juicy, raw, and unhinged,” he said, dumping his cut vegetables into the steamer-pot he had on the stove.

“Food can be a very sexual thing, you know?” I advised him with a laugh.

“I’m learning that swiftly by your reaction to a carrot alone.” He chuckled, turning to wash his hands at the sink.

Damn. Nice ass, too. This was the first time I got a good look at his firm, sexy ass through his slacks. The suit jacket was off, and nothing but a fine-looking butt was on display for me.

“So, you asked what my story is,” he said, drying his hands off. “I run a business. I was given sound advice today that even though I believed the phone to be a way to disconnect me from the chains of that business, it still holds me prisoner, and I love retreating to the country when I’m in England. I love it out here, but being that some decisions for the company need to be approved by only me, I have to be in constant communication even while trying to escape. I do my best, though. The phone is still off.”

“Don’t do that just for me,” I said. “Honestly, sometimes I think and speak without giving much thought to things. I probably insulted you, and you’re just too nice to tell me.”

He worked with his sauté pan. “I don’t get insulted. Unless I suck in bed, of course.” He winked and then held the spoon up for me to taste. “Blow on it.”

Getting strangely turned on by watching him cook, seeing his ass, and hearing his underhanded way of bringing sex into this, I licked my lips and then took a bite. All I could do was roll my eyes and moan in response to the tender, flavorful meat and the onions that he’d caramelized.

“Holy hell,” he said. “Your moans are telling me—”

“That I’m having a food-gasm?” I swallowed the bite, and he laughed.

“New term, I like it,” he said, turning to grab plates. “We might have to eat in separate rooms if you’re going to make those sounds while eating.”

“Let me help you with the plates,” I said, coming around the counter. “Funny how I love food more than anything, but I can’t cook worth a damn.”

“Well, I’ll make it my mission to teach you the art of cooking while you’re here.”

“That’s if I make it through eating this without moaning through every bite.”

“If you think moaning over my cooking is going to end you, trust me, I can make you moan over much more enticing things.”

“Back to sex talking?”

“You’re the one whose moaning is making it difficult for me to cook. My curiosity has piqued as to if I could beat your food-gasm sounds with something even more pleasurable.”

“Yeah, hard to beat the food, buddy.”

I had to feel him out. Was I only out here for his rich-boy, kinky fun? Not that I would be pissed about that. The dude was gorgeous, and I could only imagine what it would be like to sleep with him. I wondered if it would be like with Derek—when he actually could get it up—or the selfish assholes before him. It was never about me with any of them.

I hadn’t had sex since before Addy was born, so there was the whole beggars/choosers aspect to the situation as well. Would I take this Jim guy up on using me for a week of sexual pleasure? Why not? I just hoped I was still good at it.