Page 10
Ensley
The man faced away from me. He wore a long black coat, his hands stuffed in the pockets. Face tipped, he examined the high reaches of the mansion. A single slice of moonlight cut through the canopy of trees and licked a golden path over blond hair. He was so pale that for a fraction of a second, I thought I was seeing a ghost.
Then, I remembered I was thirty-three and didn’t believe in such nonsense.
But… How long had I been around the corner? Three minutes? Five at most. I didn’t hear a vehicle approach, and apart from the Jeep, I couldn’t see another one anywhere. Did he park at the gate or on the road and walk in? The notion seemed ridiculous.
Before I could swallow my nerves and call out a greeting, the man turned and spoke as though fully aware I was standing there gawking.
His voice was calm and accented. “I assume you’re from the agency?” He’d moved into a pool of darkness, which made it impossible to see his features.
“Yes, I’m—”
The man stepped forward into that same slice of moonlight, and my words vanished. He was beautiful in a way I could not comprehend. In a way I couldn’t describe. Breathtakingly. Otherworldly. Almost ethereal.
Sharp eyes held me captive, his gaze inquisitive yet intense. Utterly transfixed, I spent a full minute staring as though under a spell. Shapely brows, light and trimmed facial hair in the same golden hue as the rest. His unnaturally pale complexion could have been a trick of moonlight, but it made his dark lips stand out, full and enticing. Transfixed by his allure, I questioned if he might be a figment of my imagination. Was I hallucinating?
I’d expected the client to be a wealthy foreigner of advanced age. This guy looked a few years younger than me, although his clothing was finely made and suggested exorbitant wealth.
The man tipped his head to the side after I was silent too long. “My apologies. I seem to have caught you off guard.”
“N-no. Not at all.” I shook free from the odd spell and hustled forward, hand extended. “I’m so sorry. Ensley Elowen, from Sound Horizon Property Group.”
The man returned the shake, his fingers like ice, his grip firmer than I expected. “Mordecai Ashenvale. A pleasure.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I, um…” Glancing along the length of the overgrown drive, I frowned. “You startled me, is all. I didn’t hear you arrive. Did you… walk through the forest?”
The question sounded ridiculous, except when I considered that he couldn’t have arrived any other way. Again, I scanned the darkness for another vehicle, but there wasn’t one.
Mordecai didn’t answer. He turned to the mansion and studied the façade while I studied his profile. Tearing my eyes away proved difficult. He exuded a calmness that felt out of place, considering we were in the woods at night next to a dilapidated mansion.
“It’s remarkable, isn’t it?” Mordecai’s tongue poked out and wet his lips as he shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “Bloody Cristofer. I should have expected nothing less. He’ll pay for this.”
“I’m afraid the inside isn’t in any better shape. I assumed you were aware of the estate’s condition.”
“I know barely anything, Mr. Elowen.”
“Ensley. Please. I’m in the dark as well, to be honest. My boss asked me to come and close the deal only a few hours ago. I was told you’re new to the country. Is that right?”
“I arrived in Toronto this afternoon. Got a bit turned around finding your city. I apologize if I’m late.”
“You’re not. May I ask… Your accent. Is it British? I can’t make it out. Where did you move from?”
Mordecai’s interest shifted from studying the mansion to studying me. The direct attention might have been uncomfortable if I didn’t have the distinct impression the guy was checking me out. The perusal was subtle, but I had enough life experience as a gay man to know when a look was more than a look.
I wasn’t mad about it, except that debonair Mordecai Ashenvale seemed miles outside my league.
“I’ve lived all over Europe,” he explained. “Mostly in Romania, but I’ve spent time in Germany, Austria, Bulgaria, Russia…” He trailed off with a shrug. “All over. I was born in England, and I’ve been there over the past seven or eight months. My accent is likely muddled.”
“You’re well-traveled. What do you do for a living?”
Mordecai’s penetrating gaze lingered for an extended beat before he dismissed the question yet again and motioned to the mansion’s front entrance. “Shall we?”
“Oh. Um… sure. The paperwork is in the Jeep.” I shuffled, intent on grabbing it, but paused. “You know, the light inside isn’t great, and I’m unfortunately not all that familiar with the floor plan. We could come back in the morning and have a proper look around. When the sun is up. It might be easier. I assume you have accommodations in town. If not, I can help you find a place.”
“Not necessary. I’ll be perfectly happy here.”
His words didn’t compute. Was this refined gentleman who clearly had a boatload of money implying he was going to stay in the mansion overnight? “A-are you sure?”
