Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I turn to look at him in the blue light from the screen. “You’re special, you know. Really special.”
He smiles. “So are you.”
“No, I really mean that. I’m just an ordinary person. You’re not. You’re truly exceptional. I never said that to you before and no matter what happens always remember, you’re extraordinary.”
“That’s it for tonight,” he says, clicking the red sell button on his screen and lifting me into his arms. “Now it’s time for you to see just how extraordinary you are.”
Then one night, everything shifts.
He doesn’t come home for dinner. I eat alone and go to bed, certain he will return soon, but I fall asleep alone and wake up, groggy and disoriented, reaching out for him instinctively. But the bed beside me is cold and empty. My heart stumbles in my chest as I sit up, glancing at the clock. It’s well past midnight. Where is he?
Panic prickles at the edges of my mind, but I push it down, forcing myself to stay calm. I get out of bed and wrap my robe around me as I walk toward the window. There is a full moon in the sky and the city is alive and buzzing with bright lights.
Where could he be?
The anxiety bubbling in my chest tightens, and I need to move, to do something, anything, to clear my head. I need something to calm me down. Perhaps a swim in the pool. I get into my bikini and leave my room. I decide to go through the kitchen but stop in my tracks when I see Muriel sitting at the island. She is pouring tea from a blue and white flowery porcelain teapot into a cup with a matching pattern. She’s not usually up this late, and the sight of her in the kitchen feels oddly out of place.
“You’re up late,” I say, my voice gentle, not prying but curious.
“Yes. I couldn’t sleep. I thought a cup of chamomile tea would do the trick.”
I shift from one foot to another. “Ivan isn’t back. You wouldn’t by any chance know where he is, would you?”
Muriel sets her cup down. “No, I was worried when he didn’t come back for dinner too.”
I pause, surprised. It’s not like Muriel to talk about Ivan like this. She’s always professional, and I never expected her to express concern for his whereabouts.
“You were worried?” I ask, unsure of how else to respond.
Muriel’s mouth quirks downwards. “We all are, Lara, I’ve worked for him for years, and I’ve never seen him like this. But I’m glad you’re here, especially now.”
Her words take a moment to sink in. I’d never thought about how Ivan’s staff might feel about what’s going on.
“Who’s ‘we all’?” I ask, the curiosity pushing me to dig a little deeper.
“The staff,” she says with a small shrug. “Everyone who works for him. It’s not just that we’ve seen the news, but we all talk. We all care about him and we can all see he’s under pressure.”
There’s a pause as I let her words settle in. I hadn’t considered that Ivan’s staff might actually be concerned, that they’d notice when things were not right.
“We’ve been talking about how we can help. If it comes to it, we’re willing to pitch in however we can financially.”
I blink with shock. “Financially?” It feels strange to even suggest that they would want to support him like that. Most people will have no idea of how they can be of use like how I was, or make vague offers to help, but financially? To offer your own hard-earned money… that’s real commitment.
“You are surprised because you don’t know our history with him. He’s helped us all over the years. Some of the staff have even talked about remortgaging their homes if necessary. He helped them buy those homes in the first place. It’s not just about loyalty—it’s about giving back to someone who’s always been there when we needed him.”
I lean against the counter as her words settle in. “I didn’t know any of that,” I admit quietly. “Ivan never talks about helping people. It’s almost like he’s kept this part of himself hidden from me.”
Muriel smiles softly. “Ivan isn’t one to boast. He does things quietly, and most of the time, people don’t even realize it. We are spread about in all his properties. His chefs, his chauffeurs, his gardeners, his butler in England, his staff in Russia—there are so many of us that he’s been so generous with over the years. Do you know he bought me a cottage with a garden? It’s meant to be a place for me to retire when I’m too old to work. It’s in Devon by the sea. Well, I don’t need it. Let him have it. He can sell it or mortgage it or whatever. Living here with all my bills paid for, I have saved quite a bit. Let him have that too. He’s not alone in this.”