I enjoyed watching the light, soothing rumples the breeze caused on the surface of the pond. The cherry blossoms above me moved softly, filling the air with its lovely smell.
Mrs. James had told me that Dean never went into the gardens, never enjoyed the treasure he had. I guess it was true what they said: You don’t know what you have until you lose it.
Or if you've never had it.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head up, enjoying the sun on my face as I inhaled deeply. The unique scent of cherry blossoms, which could only be described as having very faint and sheer lilac and rose qualities accented with a creamy vanilla and soft, almond-like aroma, filled my lungs.
I was pleased that Mrs. James was doing that French beef for me. It would help associate that amazing food with something other than what the original meal reminded me of.
The first time I'd had beef bourguignon was a couple of months after I’d moved in with Opal. I was only eleven, but even at that age, I hadn't been completely naive, not with the life I'd already led.
She’d taken me to a big house, saying that I didn't have to say or do anything, just watch. I had to look because she’d been paid extra for her baby sister to watch and that I owed her for taking me away.
A man with a mask had opened the door and grinned down at me, extending a thick envelope to my sister.
He'd spoken with an accent, which I'd realized much later was French. He'd complimented my sister for the spectator she'd brought.
We'd walked into a big dining room decorated with dark woods. The man had then taken my hand and made me sit in front of a plate filled with the best smelling stew I'd ever smelled.
“Eat and look child. Keep your eyes on your sister at all times. Do you understand?” he'd asked.
“Yes,” I'd whispered, not really knowing what I would be looking at.
My sister had smiled before sniffing some white powder the man had given her.
Then a couple of other masked men had entered the room and all three of them had undressed my sister and then themselves. They'd filled every hole she had without much consideration for her.
I’d hated watching, but every time I'd looked down, either the man or my sister would shout at me to keep watching. So I had. And every passing moment, I'd lost a bit more of my innocence, especially once the man who'd opened the door joined in. His eyes had stayed on me, unwavering. I'd understood despite my young age that he wished that it was me he was using and abusing… not her.
I shivered at the horrible memory as a shadow loomed over me.
I opened my eyes to see Dean looking at me. He was dressed in an impeccable dark-blue three-piece suit, light-blue tie, and shiny Oxford shoes. It was such a weird contrast to the wooden picnic basket in his hand and the blanket on his arm.
“Yes?” I asked with uncertainty. Him being here couldn’t have been an accident. He never came into the gardens and he was avoiding me like the plague. I shouldn't have been happy to see him standing there and yet, my stomach flipped with excitation.
“Mrs. James thought you might enjoy a picnic. She asked if I could bring it out to you.” His eyes trailed down my legs to my bare feet. My skin heated under his slow gaze.
“Your housekeeper asked you to do this?” I raised an eyebrow with incredulity. I highly doubted anyone could make him do something he didn’t want to do.
“Yes. She’s terrifying. Don't tell her I said that,” he added with a wide smile, which for once was free of any coldness.
I couldn’t help but stare at him for a few seconds. This carefree persona was like a mirage. I was not sure if I was truly witnessing it or if it was only what my mind wanted to see.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I folded my legs and pointed at the spot I'd just freed. “I’m sure there’s enough for two in this huge basket. Why don’t you join me?" I wanted to see more of this unknown side of Dean Beaumont. I patted the bag by my side. “I’ve got everything for Timmy here.”
He looked away, rubbing his neck, suddenly looking uncomfortable, which was also not something I was used to. “I have a lot of work - a conference call in a couple of hours that I need to prepare for so I don’t have to go into the city again.”
“Oh.” I was pleased that he didn’t want to leave, but that made me feel stupid. He had been nothing more than a dick to me, wanting to take away the only good thing I had in my life. Why did I want him close? Had what I'd experienced as a child messed me up?
“Can’t you just take a break?” I gestured around the garden. “Just drop your tie for a few minutes and enjoy. Are you ever letting yourself go? Letting yourself become undone?”
His green eyes darkened, and I knew exactly what he was thinking about. He had done so that night in the kitchen only to regret it so deeply immediately after.
I shook my head, trying to erase the arousal slowly awakening in my body at the thought of that night. I pressed my thighs together and his eyes jumped to my crotch. “Just enjoy it for a few minutes. Take your shoes off and feel the tickle of the grass under your feet, the warm air against your skin,” I added, wiggling my toes for emphasis.
He looked at my feet. I thought he was going to say no and leave, but to my surprise, he nodded.
“Okay.” Sighing, he dropped the basket beside me and removed his Oxford shoes and black socks. He rolled his pants legs up and wiggled his toes on the grass. "Happy?"
No, I thought. I'd hoped he had webbed feet or hobbit feet or anything that would make him less perfect or intimidating, but no, he had nice strong feet… Of course he did.
“Are you?” I asked, putting Timmy on my lap to give him a snack.
After removing his tie and suit jacket, Dean sat across from me. He opened the basket and looked in. "We’ve got cheese, crackers, and grapes."
“Oh, I love cheese!” Mrs. James was just so considerate to me. I finished feeding Timmy and settled him back on the blanket. I looked at him for a few seconds as he blinked softly, already starting to fall asleep.
I turned back to Dean, who extended me a cracker with some cheese.
“How does it feel to relax for a minute?” I asked, taking the cracker.
“Who said I’m relaxing?” he replied, but he looked less stern and it was making him even more beautiful.
I shrugged. "Your phone, which is usually attached to your hand, is missing and so are the perpetual lines between your brows.”
“You’ve been detailing me, Ms. Collins,” he said, the teasing in his voice bringing the butterflies back to my stomach with a vengeance.
“Not more than you’ve been detailing me, Mr. Beaumont,” I tried as a bluff. I was not convinced that he was as aware of me as I was of him and yet, a little part of me hoped that he was.
He laughed. “Touché.” Reaching for one of my feet, he rested it on his lap and massaged it gently.
I froze, shocked by his actions. He was touching me for something other than sex and degradation. I couldn’t really comprehend such gentleness from such a ruthless man.
He trailed his hand up my leg and stopped at my knee.
“I tried to forget,” he admitted, looking down at his hand on my leg. "I tried, but I couldn’t."
I remained completely still. I was scared that should I move, he would remove his strong hand from my skin and I didn’t want that. I loved the trail of fire his touch left on my skin.