The Mentor (Necessary Lies Book 1) (5 page)

Back in my room, I cried into one of the Memory Foam pillows on my bed.

I’d never been much of an emotional woman. I was raised to be reserved, to keep my feelings to myself, especially the sad ones. Demonstrative sentiment and reactions were for people who couldn’t think clearly, and I was to always think clearly before speaking, before doing anything.

But there was so much pent up inside. So many questions, so much loss. I was the kind of heart broken that couldn’t be defined. I had lost so much more than my father, whom I’d loved so much. I had lost my own history. I now had no chance of knowing who I really was.

And ugh! Nolan Weston. Maybe I was being rude to him. But he represented a roadblock in my life. And in a way, he was like a proxy for my father. He was someone I could take out my anger on. And dammit, I had a lot to take out.

But he’d held me. That had surprised me. And it was the one time since I’d found out my father was gone that I’d felt safe. Like
maybe
somehow this would all be okay. Even having that thought for a moment had been a relief. And despite his cool demeanor, Nolan Weston was very good at holding a woman.

I assumed he’d held many. A man that looked like him probably didn’t go to bed alone very often.

I sighed. Why was I even thinking about him?

********

I’d spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon lying in bed, the flat screen television set to Bravo, my mind tuned out to the sound of shrill housewives screaming at one another about not being invited to the twentieth dinner party of the season.

“All they do is have dinner parties,” I said out loud. “Don’t they have anything else better to do? Don’t they ever just stay home and wear sweatpants and watch a movie or something?”

Reality television had always been a vice of mine. My father had often teased me about it.

“It’s such crap, Camilla,”
he’d say
. “It’s making your IQ drop with each episode.”

I would shrug,
“It’s like candy. It has no nutritional value, but it sure does taste good. And at least this kind of vice won’t make me fat.”

“There are worse things in life,”
he’d say.
“Then gaining weight, Camilla. Your mind is an important thing. You must nourish it with the best kind of things. Books, great films, classic music.”

I’d rolled my eyes,
“Okay, last weekend you emailed me about going to see a superhero movie. One that I very much doubt is getting nominated for any Academy Awards.”

He’d laughed,
“You’ve got me there, sweetheart. Always calling me out on my bullshit.”

“That’s what I’m here for,”
I’d said, grinning.

And now here I was, wishing more than anything he could walk into this room and scold me for watching trashy television.

I must have fallen asleep not long after that. I woke up with a start, my dream dissipating before I could grab the memory of it. I was all discombobulated, not immediately remembering where I was or what time it could be. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and looked out the window of my room. The snow was still falling hard. I could barely make out the lake. All I could see was a wall of white.

It looked like I was still stuck. For now.

I sighed. I just wanted to be back in Charlottesville. Back in class, back to my old life, where the future was bright and my father was still alive.

I pulled out my laptop to see if my professors had emailed me any assignments. Most of it was reading, and my Chaucer professor wanted a short paper on
Anelida and Arcite
in two weeks. As long as I was able to get out of here in the next couple days, I figured none of it was a problem. I was already itching to leave and I hadn’t even been here 24 hours.

I closed my laptop and thought about what Nolan was up to on his side of the house. Working? Planning a coup? He could have the firm. I didn’t know anything about how it worked and had no desire to find out. If my father wasn’t here to tell me himself, I didn’t give a shit. They could buy me out. Let me be.

In a year this would all be behind me. I tried to focus on that.

I was starving now. Breakfast was hours in my past and I’d missed lunch. I glanced at my cell. It was almost five. Dinner time.

I quietly wandered downstairs. The house was silent. I wondered where exactly Nolan’s room was. I realized I hadn’t even seen half the house, and I had to admit I was a little bit curious. Besides, it was my home, technically. I could explore it if I wanted to. I assumed Nolan’s door was probably shut anyway. At least I could see what else was on his side of the place.

The kitchen was empty. No sign of Nolan. I glanced in the fridge and pulled out a Lean Cuisine meal, popped it in the microwave. It could cook while I explored.

First there was the study. It was a small library really, all the walls were lined with shelves of books upon books. But that was no big shock, my father was the most well-read person I knew. There was an enormous executive desk and a Mac computer on it, the rest of the desktop clean. I went to pull open the drawers but they were locked.

“Of course,” I said out loud. “Figures.”

The next room was the fitness room. Two elliptical machines faced a flat screen television. There was a rowing machine, a treadmill, and some free weights. Basic gym stuff. A sauna was off of the room, big enough to fit at least 10 people.

After the gym was a sitting room full of the kind of furniture no one is really ever supposed to sit on. And then after that, a long hallway.

In the distance, toward the end of it, I could hear what sounded like a shower running. I could only assume Nolan’s room was at the end of that hallway.

There were two guest rooms other than his. Both were furnished modestly, just a large bed and flat screen television in each. The beds looked like the kind in a model home, ones that had probably never been slept in.

Why had my father needed a place like this for just himself?

As I slowly walked down the hall and closer to Nolan’s room, I could hear a radio playing and the sound of the shower turning off.

His door was cracked just a little. I should have walked away then, especially when I heard the shower turning off. He’d be in the room any moment and what kind of person did I look like standing in the shadows behind his slightly opened bedroom door?

But I didn’t care. This was my house now anyway. I could look where I pleased. That’s how I justified it anyway. And really, he should have shut his door.

What are you thinking?
I thought to myself.
You look like a voyeur creeper right now.

Just as I was turning to walk away, I saw him walk into the bedroom from his bathroom.

I sucked in a breath. He was naked.

Now I
really
should have walked away, but I was frozen in place.

Nolan Weston had the most gorgeous body I had ever seen in person. Or had ever seen
period.
He had a white towel wrapped around his shoulders and wore nothing else, so I had a view of everything. His shoulders were broad, his upper arms and forearms knotted with large muscles. He had gorgeous skin, an olive complexion. He glowed as he stood in the middle of his room. His pectorals were well defined, and the memory of pressing my face against them still hung heavy in my short term memory. Nolan Weston looked like something out of Men’s Health magazine; he was the “after” photo to which all men aspired. My eyes raked down his chest to his abs, which looked like they were molded by a higher deity. And then…

Well. He was endowed. Which I suppose shouldn’t have shocked me. He did have a certain gait and confidence about him when he walked. Like something impressive was in his Tom Ford slacks. And now I could see, very plainly, that it was indeed impressive.

His thighs and calves were muscular like the rest of him. He was lean, but also imposing and large. He was a gorgeous creature.

I tried to shake myself out of my haze. I mean, it really was time to walk away now. I slowly turned from the door and tried to creep down the hall discreetly, but my Tory Burch flat got caught on the Persian carpet runner in the hallway, causing me to trip and catch myself against the wall. It was a loud sound, one that he couldn’t have missed, despite his music, and I walked as quickly down the hallway as I could, not looking back when I heard his door open fully.

“Camilla?” he called down to me. “Do you need something?”

“No,” I said over my shoulder. “Just looking for the restroom. I’m going to eat dinner now.”

I was completely mortified.

When I reached the kitchen I could hear the microwave beeping at me. My Lean Cuisine was done, but I was no longer hungry. I opened and closed the door of the appliance to stop the beeping and then hightailed it back upstairs to my bedroom. Where, if I could help it, I would never leave again.

I mean, good Lord. He had to know I’d seen him. And he wasn’t stupid, there was no reason for me to be at the end of the hallway. So now he probably thought I was a complete freak, spying on him. I couldn’t face him now, maybe ever. Especially knowing what I knew about him. I’d seen the man naked.

And I had loved every single part of it.

I clutched one of my pillows to my chest as I lay back on my bed. My sadness was gone for a moment, replaced by lusty thoughts. I was ashamed to admit that, but I couldn’t help it. I rationalized it away as some sort of a coping mechanism. My psych professor would be proud.

I’d only been with a few guys. I’d lost my virginity my senior year of boarding school to a guy on the debate team. We were away at a meet, and someone had snuck in cheap vodka. I drank entirely too much, lowering my inhibitions, but I’d given full consent. The sex had been awful and I could never look or talk to the boy again. I barely even remembered him. College had been just the normal hook ups, guys in my dorm, guys I met at the very few parties I attended. None of it was fantastic, but it was fun enough. Sex was mostly just something I did when I was bored, as terrible as that is to admit. It was nothing mind-blowing, and I kind of didn’t get the hype around it.

But no one I had ever been with looked like Nolan Weston. I couldn’t help but imagine what being in his bed would be like. Something altogether different from a fumbling 20 year old guy. Nolan was a
man
. Older, worldly. Experienced. In life, in work… I was sure that had to translate to the bedroom.

I sat up, suddenly angry with myself. Why was I even thinking about this? Nolan worked for my father. He’d kept his death from me. He was the enemy, as far as I was concerned. Someone not to be trusted. Especially with my body.

Even if he’d wanted it, which I was sure he didn’t.

Still. It couldn’t hurt to fantasize. And I needed a distraction.

I lay back on the bed. I allowed my hands to wander down my torso and underneath my yoga pants. I needed to escape into this fantasy.

So I did. For the better part of an hour.

********

I finally got the nerve to wander down to the kitchen later in the evening. I prayed Nolan wasn’t down there; that he’d retreated to his room.

But no such luck. Nolan was sitting at the island, eating a bowl of cereal, scrolling through his tablet.

“Cereal? For dinner?” I asked, hoping he couldn’t sense the anxiety in my voice.

“Cereal is good all times of the day,” he replied, not looking up from his iPad. “Did you need something earlier? You ran down the hallway like you were being chased.”

I could feel my face turning red, “No. Like I said, I was looking for a restroom.”

“Isn’t there one off your bedroom?” he asked, looking up at me now, his hazel eyes fixed on me.

“I was downstairs. I’m still finding my way around the house. Why do I need to explain this to you?” I asked, agitated. “What do you care?”

“Just asking,” he said, looking back down at his iPad. “It stopped snowing. But it’s pretty cold, none of it’s going to melt. We’ll probably at least be stuck here another day.”

I sighed, “Great. I need to get back to school. I told them I’d be gone a week.”

“Camilla,” Nolan said. “You haven’t even been gone more than 2 days. Relax.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling like a sullen teenager. Something about how Nolan spoke to me made me feel like a child. Or at least, like he thought of me as one.

“Oh,” he said, standing up. He walked around me toward the sink. “Now that it’s not snowing, feel free to use the hot tub. I was thinking of using it later.”

“But there’s snow around it,” I said. “And I don’t have a bathing suit anyway.”

“Hot tubs are great when there’s snow,” Nolan said. “Anyway, you don’t have to use it. Just reminding you of it.”

“Thanks,” I said, flatly. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Alright,” he said. “Well… If you need anything, I suppose you know where I am now.”

Was that a smirk on his face? It seemed like it. He definitely didn’t buy the restroom story. I wanted to die.

I was alone in the kitchen now, just me and my cold Lean Cuisine meal. And despite everything I should have been thinking about, all I could think about was Nolan. And part of me wished he hadn’t gone off to his room so quickly.