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“Monsieur Green,” Agnes greets, opening the door. She’s wearing a dark-gray uniform, even though I keep telling her she can wear whatever clothes she wants. She was trained in a strict French institution and takes her duties very seriously. “I wanted to ask how you wanted to proceed with—ze, um—”
“With Jane?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
She nods vigorously, but her salt-and-pepper bob stays firmly in place.
“I’ll introduce you,” I say, getting up.
“I looked for ‘er, but I couldn’t find ze miss,” she says once we’re in the corridor.
“She was just in the pool,” I say. “Let’s go outside.”
Indeed, Jane is now reclining on a lounger, her body draped in a white towel she took from her bathroom. She gets up when she sees us.
“Jane,” I say. “This is Agnes. She’s the head housekeeper here and also manages the house staff.”
Jane’s lips transform into a bright smile that’s now competing with the dazzling sun above. “Hi,” she says, offering her hand.
Agnes reluctantly shakes it. She’s a lot like me—physical contact and people are not her strong suit, which is why we get along so well. “’Ello.”
“Agnes is here every day,” I explain. “She usually comes in at noon and stays until dinner, except on the weekends when she starts a bit later.”
“Okay,” Jane says. “Nice to meet you.”
“Zis iz a bath towel,” Agnes points out, glancing at the white towel wrapped over Jane’s body.
“Sorry,” Jane mutters. “I didn’t know where to find the ones for the pool. So, I just took what I found in my room.”
“Don’t worry,” I cut in. “It doesn’t matter.”
Agnes tenses next to me, then stalks over to the wicker chest tucked between a couple of loungers. She opens it up and comes back with a white-and-blue striped towel. “Zese are for swimming,” she snaps, handing it to Jane.
Jane’s face reddens as she grabs the towel. “Thank you.” She removes the white towel to replace it with the new one, and I jerk my head away. Not going back there again.
Agnes shoots me a confused look and takes the towel from Jane before marching back into the house.
“Did I say something wrong?” Jane asks, her face crestfallen.
I shake my head. “No. Agnes takes a while to warm up to others. And she’s not accustomed to seeing houseguests here, so it’s a bit of a shock.”
“Wait, you don’t have anyone over? Ever?”
I try to keep my tone casual. “I don’t like people in my space.”
“Not even, like, small dinner parties, or having friends over for a swim or a drink on the patio?”
I try not to sneer. “I’m not really a people person.”
“Yeah, I guess I’m not either.” She bites her lip, and it sends a pillar of fire raging through my core.
No, I’m not a people person. But it’s possible I might be a Jane person.
12
Money Never Lies
Jane
After a few days at Colton’s house, I start to feel at home. I have this weird skill that lets me feel comfortable in a new environment pretty quickly. You don’t really have a choice when you’re bounced around so much as a kid. Truffles seems to be taking after me, because she is looking pretty confident in her surroundings. I keep her in my wing, as requested, but she navigates between the two bedrooms, the sitting room, and the bathroom. She particularly enjoys sleeping on the plush bath rug.
