Prologue
Sophie…
Ten years ago…
The first time I saw Michael MacTavish, I’d just fallen head-first into a koi pond.
“Ach, that’s a disaster!” Maisie laughed, trying to drag me out of the pond. Outraged koi were swirling around my dress, taking little nibbles like the fabric might be something tasty.
I would like to point out that Maisie was the reason I fellinthe pond in the first place, since I was trying to haul her out. She was better prepared for our watery disaster, since she was in shorts and sneakers. My one and only nice dress and pair of shoes were not meant for a graceful escape.
“Maisie, are ye trying to drown the poor lass on her first day?” Cormac MacTavish, Chieftain of the MacTavish Mafia was standing on the granite steps of his mansion, arms folded and looking at us with poorly concealed amusement.
“I’m very sorry, sir! It was my fault!” I gulped. I’ve been the help long enough to know that everything should be my fault and never the fault of anyone we work for. “I promise it will never happen again, and-”
“Haud your wheesht, lass,” the Chieftain said kindly. “I know my daughter is responsible because dunking any innocent soulin the koi pond is a bit of a signature move, aye?” He raised a pointed brow at Maisie, who didn’t look repentant at all.
“I just wanted to show Sophie the fish,” she said, all big eyes and quivering lip.
If I tried that on my mother, she’d give me low marks for a terrible performance (“That’s not even a three-star effort, young lady,”) and send me off to wash some windows.
Another guy walked out behind the Chieftain, and… Well, he wasn’t just aguy, even my sad little adolescent self saw that.
He was a man.
I didn’t think men were supposed to be beautiful, but this one was. He had thick dark hair with a little bit of curl and sharp cheekbones. Crazy tall, with huge shoulders. He was wearing a suit and his dress shirt was unbuttoned enough to show a little bit of a tattoo. I wanted to know what the tattoo looked like.
“Da, we have a meeting with the Sato Group in ten minutes.” Even his voice was beautiful, deep and strong. When he looked over at Maisie and me, I saw his eyes. Green. So green, like a forest. They were sharp, his gaze went over me rapidly, noting my stupid wet dress and oh,god,I’ll bet my bra was showing through the wet fabric. I hastily crossed my arms over my chest as he looked away.
Smooth introduction, Sis,Jordan whispers.
“Ach, of course,” the Chieftain sighed. “ Why dinnae the two of ye go get cleaned up? Though first, Miss Maisie, ye can trot yourself in those wet trainers and show Sophie to the cottage. Ye might dry off a bit before splashing your way through the house.”
She didn’t look in the least bit unhappy about it, cheerfully squishing her way around the side of the mansion, pointing outthe greenhouse, the pool and her mother’s gardens with the practiced air of someone leading a tour at The Smithsonian.
I looked back at the man standing on the granite stairs. He said something to the Chieftain that made him laugh and pat him on the shoulder as they walked back in the house.
“Hey, now! Careful, aye?” Maisie caught me before I fell on my face. “This pathway’s all cracked.”
“Oh , thanks,” I mumbled, flushing and hoping she didn’t notice I was staring back at the beautiful man like an idiot.
We walked for another five minutes before coming to a stone cottage. It looked like it should be on the cover of a romance novel, a pretty one-story building with blooming baskets hanging from the front windows and a front door painted blue.
“This is nice,” I said. “Is this where the staff lives?”
She blinked at me. “We have twenty house people. Over a hundred if ye count the guards.”
“Oh.” I felt like an idiot.
“Nae, this is for ye and your Ma,” she said happily. “This way, we’ll be close to each other and we can play all the time.”
I studied her kind, uncomplicated smile. She meant it. “You’re so nice,” I blurted. “Thank you.”
“You’re nice, too,” she said, giving my arm a pat. “I think your Ma is already in there. See ye later, aye?”
“Yeah, that would be great.” I wanted to hug her in relief. Mom and I were too nervous to eat for the entire day, waiting for the meeting with Cormac and Mala MacTavish. They were both very kind, even though Mom and I were sweating by the end of the interview.
“We’d love to have you join us here,” Mrs. MacTavish had said, leaning over to shake Mom’s hand and then, with a little smile, mine as well. “My daughter Maisie is twelve, too. She’s going to be happy to have someone her age to play with.”
