~VICTORIA~

"So basically Christopher Columbus was a horrible person," Benson said. The 10-year-old sat across the table from me. His posture was straight as an arrow, and had been that way since we started our first tutoring session two hours ago.

Which was why I consciously sat up straight too, even if it was exhausting. I kind of felt ashamed to slouch when my own student was sitting with such perfect posture.

"Yes," I said. "They don't teach you that in school, do they?"

Benson shook his head.

"Well, history never tells the whole truth," I said. I wondered if maybe contradicting Benson's school teachers on my first day of work was a particularly bad idea.

"So why do we study it then?"

"That's...a very good question." I smiled inwardly. The boy was smart. I was not going to hate this job. "I think we study history so we can find out the truth about us. Even lies tell us something."

It was uncanny how Benson looked so much like Chase. The young boy had blond hair, but he and his uncle had the same blue eyes.

I couldn't quite figure out the funny feeling I had when I found out that Benson was Chase's nephew, not his son. Until Chase's assistant mentioned it, I'd assumed he was Chase's son. And that there was a Mrs. Chase in the picture.

"I wonder what Mr. Everett would say if I ask him about it," Benson said, glancing down at his book.

"Well, let me know."

He looked up and frowned. "You think I should bring it up?"

"I think...you should never be afraid to ask questions. If they're sincere." Asking too many questions had gotten me in trouble at school more than a few times. But I didn't remember ever regretting it.

Benson shrugged, and closed his book. "I think that's the last of this week's material," he said. "Do you want to go over next week's?"

"Oh no. I think we've had enough for tonight. You can get dinner. Your homework's all done, so I think you can hit the Playstation or something."

"I don't play games."

"You don't like them?"

"I've never had a Playstation. Or an Xbox."

"Does your uncle not want you to play games?"

"No. It just never came up."

I helped him put his books and notebooks away. "I have a Playstation myself," I said. "Games are fun, and a great way to relax."

"Aren't you a bit old for gaming?" Benson grinned.

I smiled back at him. "No one's ever too old for fun, kid." I paused, thinking. "You know, I could bring it over sometime. The new Tomb Raider is pretty cool, we could go a few rounds on that."

"Okay."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Just like that? You're not going to ask your uncle first if it's okay?"

"What for? He hired you as my tutor, didn't he?"

"Yes?"

"Well, that means he trusts you not to teach me anything bad. And besides," he added. "If I don't like games, I can stop playing."

"That's true." I couldn't stop smiling. Benson was so precocious, I had to restrain myself from pinching his cheeks.

To think I almost didn't get this job.

It was still all very strange. Chase interviewed me, but said I wasn't what he was looking for. And then one day he showed up at the Foxhole with a job offer.

Benson may not be into games, but maybe his uncle was.

There was a knock in the study, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Sellers came in. "It's time for dinner. Victoria, won't you join us?"

I hesitated. Was Chase home? I wasn't expecting to be having dinner with the family. "Would that be all right?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, please eat with us," Benson said. "Uncle Sebastian always comes home late. It's just me and Mrs. Sellers."

"Oh." So I wasn't having dinner with my boss. "All right then."

I wasn't used to eating with people I just met, or other people's kids, but dinner wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be. Mrs. Sellers, who was in her sixties, didn't speak much, and neither did Benson. But he was always glancing at me, as though he expected me to make conversation. Which I did. We talked about his favorite subjects at school and sports he was into. He was polite, and I found myself enjoying the boy's company.

After dinner, Benson excused himself to read before bed. Mrs. Sellers asked me if I could wait for Mr. Chase to get home, as he wanted to speak to me before I left for home.

"Shall I wait in the study?" I asked the elderly woman.

"Maybe you'd prefer the living room?" Mrs. Sellers said. "The one on this floor has a television, so you won't get bored."

"Oh, right. Yes, that would be great, thank you."

Sebastian Chase's house was incredibly large. It had three floors and was divided into two wings. I was almost sure each floor could fit about a dozen rooms. It definitely had more than one living room, but Mrs. Sellers said only the one on the first floor of the main wing had a TV.

I found the channel that showed old movies, and luckily, it was playing one of my favorite Humphrey Bogart films. I settled down on the couch with some tiny cakes and a soda the housekeeper brought me.

The cakes were delicious. Mrs. Sellers mentioned they were madeleines, and she'd just made them that afternoon. I couldn't remember ever having them in my life, and I sighed contentedly as I bit into the buttery goodness. I could definitely get used to this.

What was it like being so rich you had servants bake you tiny French cakes anytime you wanted, I wondered. If I didn't have to make my own dinner or do laundry, I'd probably be able to finish my novel in a month or two. It was way too late for me to have been born to wealthy parents, and I doubted I had a long-lost aunt somewhere out there who needed an heir to leave their fortune to. I had no illusions about hitting it rich someday. There were very few millionaire authors out there.

But I loved writing. There wasn't anything else I could think of doing for the rest of my life. And I was used to not being rich. I knew life could still offer you happiness and good friends and love, even if you didn't have a lot of money.

Key Largo ended around 10pm, and Mr. Chase still hadn't arrived.

I was getting sleepy, but I had assured Mrs. Sellers, who popped in fifteen minutes earlier to tell me Mr. Chase was still at the office but he would be getting home shortly, that I was all right to wait for him. After all, the man was paying me more than what I made for a full day at the coffee shop for only a couple of hours tutoring Benson. I could wait up for him this once.

***

~SEBASTIAN~

It was midnight when I let myself in the front door. I was tired. The conference call with China didn't end until an hour ago. But it had been an extremely productive call, and the company's directors were going to be very pleased at the board meeting next month.

I took off my jacket, and tossed it on the chair beside the door. The day wasn't over. There was another important meeting I had to go to before I could call it a day: I needed to speak to Benson's new tutor. I wasn't at all sure if she had left already, as I was about three hours late getting home.

The housekeeper would have gone to bed an hour ago, so most of the lights were turned off. There was just enough light to allow me to walk down the hall to the first floor living room. It was dimly lit, but the television was turned on. I could see the back of the couch but there was no one sitting there that he could see. Puzzled, I moved closer to look for the remote control to turn off the television, and found Victoria lying on the couch, fast asleep.

I caught my breath.

While I was aware that I found Victoria enticing, I had no plans of pursuing the matter. It was out of the question, and I was prepared to give no hint of my attraction to her until it went away. Which it would, I was sure of it.

But I was unprepared to see her in such a vulnerable position — in my house, in my living room, lying on my couch. I felt a slight tinge of possessiveness — and a strong urge to kiss her awake.

Her white blouse looked well worn, and it seemed a size too small. It was so tight it accentuated her breasts — which heaved whenever she inhaled. And it was so short, every breath she took lifted its hem enough to show a tiny bit of her skin above the waist of her jeans.

I cursed under my breath. Without taking my eyes off the sleeping woman, I unbuttoned the cuffs of my shirt, and then began to undo my necktie.


~VICTORIA~

I felt Sebastian's presence even before I opened my eyes. The room had become warm, and the scent of him hung in the air, teasing my senses.

When his lips touched mine, it sent a blaze of heat from my head down to my spine. He slid his hands down my back until they rested on my hips, and my back arched instinctively, until my breasts touched his chest. Almost immediately, I felt his body press down on me gently, and his kiss deepen. I moaned softly. I parted my legs, and sliding each one up against his, I wrapped them around his thighs. He moved his hands up my waist until they reached my breasts. His thumbs gently caressed my nipples.

What was happening?

His tongue was persistent in its exploration of my mouth. Slowly all my inhibitions faded away, drowned out by the wild beating of my heart.

I was kissing a beautiful man, that's what I was doing. And letting him kiss me, and touch me —

"Ms. Slade," Sebastian said, his voice low.

I was about to reply, "Yes?" But his mouth was still on mine.

Wait.

If Sebastian was kissing me, who was talking?

I tried to open my eyes.

"Ms. Slade!"

I woke up. Suddenly realizing where I was, I sat bolt upright...

... and found myself facing Sebastian Chase.

He was sitting in a chair a few feet in front of me, both arms on the arm rests. Staring at me. He had no jacket, and his shirt cuffs were unbuttoned. His tie was missing.

He looked angry.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Mr. Chase," I said, standing up. I tugged at the hem of my shirt, trying to fix my clothes that had fallen into disarray during my nap.

"Sit down."

"Uh, yes, sir." I sat back down on the couch.

I was mortified, to say the least. My first day on a new job and I fell asleep on my boss's couch. I flushed, remembering what I had been dreaming about. Oh God, I didn't say his name out loud in my sleep, did I?

"What is that?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"That ..." he pointed a finger straight at me. "What you're wearing."

"It's ... my clothes. What do you mean?"

"Did I or did I not give you specific instructions to buy new clothes before coming to work?"

"Mr. Chase, it was hardly necessary —"

"What is or isn't necessary is not for you to decide, Ms. Slade. You are in my employ and I dictate the terms by which you will dress yourself while performing your duties."

"I'm a tutor, Mr. Chase. What I wear has nothing to do with my duties. Benson ..." I took a deep breath, trying not to get too worked up over his unreasonable demand. "Benson and I had a great first session, and he was not ... disgusted at how I looked."

"My son is polite. If he had been disgusted, he would, of course, not have shown it."

"Unlike you?"

I regretted the words the moment they were out of my mouth.

What was wrong with me? Why was I trying to piss off a man who was paying me good money for a decent job? And why did he look so hot when he was angry?

Sebastian didn't say anything for what seemed like forever.

Oh God he's going to fire me.

"I was pointing out an unacceptable facet of your ... person as my employee," he said, ignoring the question.

"Forgive me, sir, but if I was so unacceptable to you, why did you hire me?"

"Are you making me regret that decision, Ms. Slade?"