Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Theo Cavendish is the second son of a British viscount, and he’s spent years running from the aristocratic world he grew up in. Betrayal and loss taught him lessons he’s not quick to forget. As an award-winning screenwriter and creator, Theo prefers to throw himself into the world of film and television. He moves from one project to another, never really letting anyone truly know him.
As a housekeeper at the exclusive Ardnoch Estate, shy Sarah McCulloch feels invisible most days. No one really knows her, and they definitely don’t know she’s a bestselling crime writer. She dreams of seeing her series on screen and believes only one person can develop it for television. On the day she quits the estate for good, she shares her secret with club member, Theo, and asks him to consider her books.
Sarah never expected him to say yes or to show up on her doorstep ready to write with her. Or that weeks spent locked up in her cottage would lead them to form an intense but undeniable connection. A bond that Theo is not sure he’s ready to accept, even though he can’t bear to be without her.
However, when they finally venture out of their bubble, Theo finds he’ll have to battle more than his own demons to protect Sarah from hurt. For he has another fan, one intent on bringing the darkest elements of his most famous script to life. And unless he can figure out this real-life antagonist’s next move, Theo could be in danger of losing Sarah forever.
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Prologue
SARAH
Ardnoch Castle, Scotland
October
The castle seemed hushed. Not just because it was evening at Ardnoch, but because many of its members had returned to their film and television projects a few weeks ago. Summer was their season off, and we saw many members descend upon the estate only to depart in droves come September.
They’d been gone for a month and the castle had grown gradually quiet, just as I liked it. Not that it matters, I thought as I hurried down the carpeted corridor toward Theodore Cavendish’s room. I technically no longer worked here. It was the end of an era. But it was time.
Before I left, however, I was going to use my proximity to the rich and famous to get what I wanted.
Drawing to a stop outside of Mr. Cavendish’s door, I sucked in a breath and pushed down the sudden swarm of fluttering nerves in my stomach. Seriously, I felt a wee bit sick.
Fueled by a newfound confidence in myself and a promise I’d made to my now-deceased grandfather, I didn’t turn away. I would not run from this opportunity. Even if it meant putting trust in someone I wasn’t even sure I liked. Mr. Cavendish wasn’t just a droll, flirtatious son of an English viscount. The cynical bitterness within him might be my ruin. How did I know these things about someone I’d never actually spoken to?
I was very observant.
Because I was shy and introverted, some people assumed I lived in my own world and didn’t pay attention to what was going on around me. It was the exact opposite, actually. I paid close attention. I watched people. I read them. Attempted to understand them. And realized that because of the last three decades of doing just that, I had a pretty good gut instinct.
Years ago, when someone was threatening my boss Lachlan Adair and terrorizing the estate, I’d come under fire as a suspect because of the bad blood between my grandfather and the Adairs. The fact that I blushed in his presence because I found my boss attractive didn’t help matters. Yet, I’d forever be angry with myself for never voicing my suspicions. I’d always suspected the real culprit. The actor Lucy Wainwright.
Everyone thought she was a sweetheart, but she’d often been erratic toward me when I cleaned her room. One moment she was kind and generous and the next yelling at me for some misdemeanor for which I wasn’t to blame. I’d also observed her from a distance and noted her intense preoccupation with Lachlan. Moreover, I saw her talking with her partner in crime, Fergus Ray, more than once and thought their interactions odd and cagey.
I didn’t speak up because I thought no one would listen to the opinion of a shy housekeeper. How I regretted that after they kidnapped Lachlan. Thankfully, Lachlan’s now wife Robyn and my grandfather were there to save his life.
So, aye, I had good instincts about people. And my instincts told me to be wary of Mr. Cavendish, even if he was my first choice.
I raised my fist to knock on his door but before I could, it flew open and the man himself jolted to a stop.
“Fuck!” Mr. Cavendish clasped a hand to his chest in fright. His alarmed expression immediately darkened to a glare. “I almost defecated in my trousers, thank you very much.” His Eton upper-crust British accent made even the most disgusting sentences sound charming.
Uncomfortable under his glower, my cheeks grew frustratingly hot. As did the sight of him up close. Theo Cavendish was annoyingly attractive. Tall, at least a few inches over six feet with a swimmer’s build, he wore clothes well. Like a model. Even just in his current sweater and jeans, he looked like he’d stepped off a photo shoot. The sweater molded to his taut physique and accentuated his broad shoulders. His pale gray-blue eyes complemented a face that was almost too pretty due to his full, pouty mouth. The sharp angle of his jaw and cheekbones, along with his designer stubble, attempted to make him a little more rugged.
I knew I was probably gawking, but thirty-one years down the line and I still hadn’t quite figured out how to act around handsome men. I think taking the job at Ardnoch was an attempt to make myself immune to them. After all, it was a members-only club for film and industry professionals, and a lot of the members were good-looking. Including the behind-the-scenes people like Theo, who was a screenwriter and director.
However, it didn’t make me immune and instead, I’d shrunk further into my shell, allowing my old insecurities and traumas to dictate my introverted behavior. Or so all the podcasts I’d listened to on therapy and mental health told me.
“May I help you?” Theo snapped impatiently.
There. I saw and heard it in his voice. His contempt.