Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I smile to myself before stretching sensuously. I love using the Jacuzzi, enjoying the decadent home theatre room, or even working out in the private gym. But there’s something about finding the time to read for pleasure, and taking time to let my mind wander, that I’ve missed in the last several years since law school.
It doesn’t hurt that the library houses thousands of books, I think as I lazily run my fingers up and down my daiquiri glass, the icy drink melting in the hot midday sun. Through the Open Window is one that I ordered on-line, but the Costas brothers literally have thousands of tomes in their collection. The library is filled with books in several languages and across every imaginable genre, the large, two-story room a testament to how intelligent and curious my two hosts are. So far, I’ve read a book on philosophy, another on the history of the French language, and most recently found an entire section donated to romance novels. My eyes set on the tomes with eager curiosity.
“What are two, brawny, strapping men like you two doing with hundreds of romance novels?” I’d teased Tom and Gabriel ceaselessly one night.
“What? We can’t believe in old-fashioned love stories?” the brothers had quipped back good-naturedly.
But it turns out the collection had belonged to their mother, a woman whose memory both men cherish and whom they often speak of with great reverence. Marjorie Costas was a kind, loving mother who doted on her two sons, and encouraged their love of reading. The library is in part a tribute to her, and her passionate love of the written word.
The sound of one of the patio doors opening then closing distracts me from my musings.
“Miss Sutton,” my butler – the older British gentleman who’d picked me up that first day – calls out from across the pool. “I just spoke with Mr. Tom Costas, and he said to inform you that both he and his brother will be home at three o’clock sharp.”
“Thank you, George,” I call back to the charming older man. A bit grouchy at times, the older butler has become somewhat of a guide during my short time at the manor. He’s given me advice from anything about appropriate dinner outfits, to which fork to use, to redoing the house tour since I have gotten lost so often in the large mansion.
“Chef is making you salmon and greens for lunch, along with a fruit salad medley.”
“That sounds amazing,” I smile, holding my hand above my eyes like a visor to shade against the bright sunlight. “Can’t wait.”
“Would you like to take lunch on the veranda?”
“That’d be perfect,” I smile at the old butler.
“Very good, Miss.” With that, he retreats inside the house and I’m once again alone by the pool with my thoughts. I frown at his retreating figure, because my butler’s interruption had been a nice reprieve from my constant overthinking.
I sigh. Well, might as well go through it again. Reluctantly, I settle back into the lounge chair and review my unusual living situation for the umpteenth time.
It’s wonderful, and the only downside to my current state is that I have no idea how long this fairy-tale is going to last.
At times, I’ve wanted to ask either Tom or Gabriel about my timeline, but I’ve shied away from the question, partly because I fear the answer but partly because I don’t want to seem ungrateful for their generosity.
More than mere generosity, I acknowledge as I take a sip of my icy drink. It’s completely wild how much they’ve supported me.
After all, Tom and Gabe have been more than generous. About three nights into my stay with the Costas brothers, I’d finally brought up the fact that I’m broke, that I had bills piling up, and that my rent was due the next day. A quick scan of my bank account showed that not only was I flat broke, but that I was quickly about to have my bills sent to collection.
I broached the subject with great trepidation, knowing that if I didn’t figure out my money situation, and fast, I was going to have to leave the mansion to figure out my next steps.
“Tom, Gabriel,” I must have said their names strangely, because both men had looked up quickly, each pair of steel-blue eyes searching mine.
“What’s wrong?” Tom had asked first, quickly followed by Gabriel’s, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine,” I managed to stammer.
“What is it then?” Tom, ever perceptive, asked, his blue eyes intent.
I sighed.
“I hate to be a burden, especially because you’ve both been so kind to me,” I began, my stomach in knots. “The thing is, my rent is due tomorrow, and I haven’t received my last paycheck, so I’m going to be short.”
“Sweetheart, how much is your rent?” Gabe asked gently.