Climbing under the covers, Galen nodded.
Grimacing at Galen’s answer, Remy tucked him in against his side, straightening the covers over them both. His hope the nightmares would eventually stop was longgone and he was at a loss about how to help. No matter what he tried, nothing seemed to work except letting his brother sleep with him—a short term solution to the problem, but not good for either of them. Remy made a mental note to solve it sooner rather than later.
Within minutes, Galen was asleep, leaving Remy to reflect on what had kept him away from taking care of his brothers last night. Ever since his boss, Artur MacDùghlas died, Remy figured it was only a matter of time before he’d lose his job. So between looking for a new one and handling the multitude of calamities at work, now almost daily occurrences, his free time was severely curtailed—and that meant his brothers were spending more time with Mrs. Beasley and not with him. Thankfully, his brothers loved her but he was sure they’d be upset when he found another job, probably requiring a move and a new nanny—taking away whatever sense of security he’d managed to give them since their parents’ deaths.
Reaching carefully for his phone so as not to wake Galen, Remy groaned inwardly when he saw the time. Setting it back down, he tried to turn off his mind in an effort to get back to sleep. He needed to be sharp and on top of his game later that morning when the son of Artur MacDùghlas—who was also his new boss—was scheduled to arrive, along with a representative from Dire Enterprises. When Remy found out who’d be buying all of Artur’s businesses, a small seed of hope began to grow that his plan would buy him time to find a new job; one that paid him as much or even more than what he was making now.
It was an offhand remark by Mrs. Beasley that gave him the idea of offering his expertise to Dire Enterprises, so their takeover would be as seamless and trouble-free as possible. If Remy was successful in convincing Dire’srepresentative about the financial soundness of hiring him, it would take an enormous weight off of his shoulders. Closing his eyes, Remy inhaled deeply, releasing his breath slowly while clearing his mind of a long list of worries that had only grown more serious in the last few months. Soon his breathing evened out as sleep finally reclaimed him.
~/~/~/~/~
Snorting in disgust, Carson gave up, removing the cotton from his ears. “I should have listened to Mac and packed some earplugs,” he muttered. “Or better yet, maybe a pair of Dire’s noise cancelling headphones.” He wasn’t going to get any sleep with the sounds coming from Hunter and Fionn’s bedroom next door, so he sat up and looked at his alarm clock. They were still hours away from landing in Paris. After considering his options, Carson rose, slipping into his robe before grabbing his laptop and heading out to the main cabin. Selecting a location in the front of the plane—as far away from his cousin and Fionn as possible—he sat down, placing his laptop on a small, high gloss, mahogany table.
Glancing around the cabin while waiting for his computer to boot up, Carson felt his soul settle, aided by the jet’s warm and cozy interior, graced with soft, buff leather furniture and set off by plush, nut-brown carpeting. Then, stretching his hand out, he softly stroked the cream, leather padding on the cabin walls, its smooth texture calming him further.
“Can I get you anything?” Paul asked.
Jerking his head around and looking up, Carson blushed, embarrassed the steward caught him caressing the leather. “Oh…uhm…sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all,” Paul replied. “I’m always on duty during aflight. Would you like something to drink?”
“Water would be great.”
“Certainly.”
Carson watched Paul walk away, then glanced down at his screen. Opening a file, he again began to read the material he’d received from Remy Marchant. Despite Carson’s hectic life since learning about his new job assignment for Dire Enterprises, he’d read everything he could about the different companies Fionn now owned. There wasn’t any real need for him to go through it again, but he needed something to occupy himself since sleep was out of the question.
“Here you go, sir,” Paul said, setting an empty crystal glass and an unopened bottle of water next to Carson’s computer.
Glancing up, Carson smiled. “Thanks, Paul.” After filling the glass, he took a sip, then thought about an opportunity he could take advantage of. It was the perfect time to do it. Cocking his head to one side, Carson studied Paul.Why not?“Paul, would you mind doing something for me?”
“Depends,” Paul said, frowning, “on what it is.”
Carson’s mouth opened and a small gasp escaped.Gods, I did it again. When will I ever learn?It was obvious by Paul’s comment, he thought Carson was asking for a sexual favor.This is why I need Cody or Colton to protect me from making an ass of myself.But without either of his brothers to run interference for him, he was now left to dig himself out of the hole he found himself in. Face now flaming red, Carson stuttered, “A-a-ahh, I-I-I was wondering if I could talk to you about your experience working for Dire Enterprises?”
Chuckling, Paul said, “Whew! Sure glad I misunderstood.” Taking the seat opposite Carson, added, “What do you want to know?”
“Yeah,” Carson said, “sorry I didn’t make myself clear.”
Shaking his head, Paul replied, “No, don’t be. I should have known better. My only excuse is ‘old habits die hard’.”
“What do you mean?” asked Carson, curious about the steward’s comments. But then, realizing Paul might not want to talk about it, added, “Sorry, none of my business.”
Sighing, Paul ran his hand through his hair. “No, it’s all right. You asked me about working for Dire Enterprises, right? Well, I love it. Every day I wake up thanking my lucky stars I met Steel…err, Mr. Valentin…who rescued me from a life of hell and gave me a job…the best job in the world.”
“How long have you worked for him?” asked Carson.
“About ten years,” Paul answered.
“Wow! Good for you,” Carson said. “Would you consider leaving?”
“No, absolutely not,” Paul replied, vigorously shaking his head. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering if someone offered you a job with…say, more pay…or better benefits…would you take it?”
“Not interested.”
“Why?” asked Carson before adding, “if it’s not too personal.”
