It has to be staggered to keep the place liveable.Despite notwantinga personal assistant, one seems to bubble to the surface anyway.A woman who checks in with him at least three times a day and becomes indispensable.
Her name is Blaire Montbelliard.She’s twenty-two years old, highly competent and Frenchborn, though her accent is mild and leans mostly British.His requests go through her seamlessly and he has to admit, despite his initial scorn for the idea, it’s much easier this way.The Estate is like a world unto itself.Kitchens, staff, living quarters, laundry, cleaning, administration; it operates like a small country.
He sees Blaire with Mimi sometimes, teaching the little one French here and there.The childminders live comfortably inloco parentisalthough Julian remains unchecked.Lachlan decides to pull the kid for a talk.
‘Walk with me,’ he tells him, notasking.
Julian sneers coldly but obeys.‘Be right back, Mimi.’
It’s a clear day so Lachlan heads for the grounds.‘I spoke with your father.’
‘Did he fire you?’
‘No.’
‘Well, he will.I’ll just keep showing him the bruises.’
‘I’m here to protect you.’
‘I don’t needprotection.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘From what?’
‘The world.’
‘What part of the world do I need protection from?’
‘Whatever your father decides.’
‘I’m gonna get you fired.’
‘No, you’re not.I need this job.’
‘Oh,boohoo.Plenty of rich kids for you to stand guard over.’
Lachlan stops when they reach the lake.‘Why don’t you tell me what you want, and I’ll see if I can meet you halfway?’
‘And why don’tyougo drown yourself in the water there?’
‘Very funny.’Lachlan sighs roughly, unused to kids.He wasn’t around for any milestones of Margot’s children, only saw pictures every few months.He’s been dealing with nothing but adults since he was seventeen.
‘There’s nothing you can give me,’ Julian informs him, ‘and I’m gonna make sure you get fired just like all the others.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘Fuckingwatchme.’
Lachlan smirks.‘That’s my job.’
?
The next day brings Julian tohimin a mess of watery rage.Cheeks rose red with frustration and barely held back tears, he shoves Lachlan as hard as he can which isn’t hard at all because he’s a scrawny seventeen-year-old kid.
‘Youbastard!’
Oddly satisfied, Lachlan quips, ‘Spoke to your father, have you?’
