I awoke to a faint clanking noise. It was my maid -- Melanie, I think -- taking the tray off my desk. She smiled apologetically for waking me. I just smile and told her that I was happy to wake up. I had had such a wonderful sleep. My weary bones and sore muscles were refreshed and aching to move. I wanted to walk, everywhere. I couldn't help but romanticize the idea of just endlessly walking around and exploring this country; but, winter might pose a bit of a problem with that.
Melanie left my room, promising to return with some breakfast and coffee. I just flopped back in bed, staring out the window waiting for my maid to return. I knew I would have to get ready for work soon, but I just wanted a few more minutes to appreciate the picturesque beauty of the view and snuggled under the warmth of the plush down duvet. I freed my hair from the elastic it had been bound in, and rubbed my sore scalp. Though styling my hair looked great, it hurt like hell. Nothing felt better than letting my hair fall freely down my shoulders; but, it was so curly and unruly that it could never appear professional. Too bad.
I laid nude in bed, concealed by the duvet, in the huge bright bedroom; looking around, checking out my surroundings. There was a fireplace, with a real fire crackling away in it, on the far wall. Two large winged chairs and a tufted ottoman sat before it. The fire place was flanked with two huge windows. The antique writing desk sat against the wall near the end of the bed and a gigantic solid wood armoire stood against the opposing wall. The walls were a crisp white, decorated with large colourful artwork. There were no curtains covering the windows - I suppose there wasn't really a need for the privacy when I had 20 empty acres behind the house; so, the bright morning sun poured into the room.
I heard noise down the hall -- an opening and closing of a door. I heard the same noise a few more times. I assumed it was Melanie doing her work; at least I did until I heard my door open, followed by a deep masculine voice.
"I find it a little disconcerting, Miss Tanner, that I have to personally retrieve my employee from bed." He said as he landed his intense and angry glare upon me.
I immediately sat up stammering apologetically, "I'm so sorry I..." I paused due to his wide-eyed interested expression.
He was staring directly at my- . Oh, shit. I yanked the duvet up to my chin, which just left my bright red face exposed topped by my halo of curls. Mr. M still stood, rooted to the spot, with that glazed look in his eyes. Eventually, I just pulled the duvet up over my head, seeking to hide my tears of embarrassment and shame. I was mortified; I had just flashed my boss. Hell, maybe I would get a raise out of it. But, I realized that was a short lived hope when he spoke.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he asked sternly.
"No sir." I replied meekly, from under the sheets.
I heard him release a slight growl before beginning his tirade, "It is 10am. You have had more than enough sleep. No more lazing around. It is time to get to work. Now, I want to see you down stairs in ten minutes; and, you better be presentable." He firmly enunciated the presentable part.
I heard my door slam a second later.
"Fuck." I cursed as I jumped out of bed and began digging through my luggage.
I managed to find the only single pair of dress pants I owned -- Deborah had apparently decided I didn't need anything other than short skirts -- and a fitted silk turquoise v-neck blouse. I jumped into my clothes and pulled my hair up into a conservative bun. I slipped my feet into a pair of open toed gray crocodile skin heels. I did a quick glance in the mirror, frowning as I realized I hadn't got to enjoy my morning cup of coffee, before I ran out my door. I made it downstairs in six minutes.
"Better." Mr. M muttered from behind his newspaper when I stood waiting before him.
I controlled the blush this time. I really had to start getting that under control.
"Now, if you will follow me over to the main house we can sit and have a coffee while we go over today's schedule." He said, from behind the paper as he turned to lead the way back to the main house. He stopped at the door.
"You will need your jacket Miss Tanner. It is quite cold out there today. You don't by chance have any boots, do you?"
"No Sir." I replied as I grabbed a cashmere scarf and my long wool jacket from the coat stand.
I couldn't help but notice, as we walked through the falling snow and bitingly cold wind, his lack of coat and lack of discomfort, over the freezing temperatures. I shivered just looking at him. By the time we reached the house my toes were ten sticks of ice. I would have to get some winter boots. Hopefully Mr.M would not be angry at me for not getting everything I needed for the trip; Deborah must be slipping.
I walked into the grand marble entrance foyer of the main manor, shaking the snow off my coat. This place was straight out of a movie; a large grand staircase, marble floors, enormous flower arrangements and large painted portraits on the walls. My heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as I followed Mr. M into an adjoining room, discovering it to be the study.
Book shelves lined the walls and a massive desk sat in the middle of the room. Mr. M sat down behind the desk, assuming his regular position while I sat down on a little chair in front of him. He still had his head buried in the morning paper, as per the usual Mr. Morrison- my boss. I was still embarrassed and in relative shock, from this morning's incident; so, I couldn't muster one polite conversational word. So, I just sat nervously, waiting for him to speak. Finally, I heard him chuckle and he lowered the paper to the desk. He assessed me with his shrewd eyes before speaking.
"It seems the critics here assume my company will fail in France. They believe that my American style will not meld with the French way of business. Do you agree Miss Tanner?"
"I believe the French would rather be romanced, than bullied." I replied hesitantly and cautiously.
Mr. M threw back his head and laughed- hard. When finally his laughter diminished he responded, "Never have truer words been spoken. And that, Miss Tanner, is why I have you."
It seemed as though he put an, almost possessive, emphasis on the 'his having me' part; and, a shiver ran down my spine at the suggestion of those words. I mentally slapped myself for letting my mind wander in irrational directions. My boss only ever thought of business; anything he ever did was a cold, calculated and controlled decision. He was interested in only profit, and global domination. Okay, so maybe the global domination was stretching it; but, he worked hard enough that he could achieve it.
My full attention was once again focused on Mr. Morrison.
"How so Mr. Morrison?" I asked perplexed.
He smirked before replying, "You are going to romance them."
I stared at him, slightly dumbfounded. "Me?"
"Yes, you. You will use your wit, charm, grace, beauty and most importantly your knowledge of their culture. And- don't look so horrified. You can and will do this, if you want a job to go home to."
"But sir, you don't understand. I don't know how to romance. I wouldn't even know what to do."
"You have your Masters in French Studies, how can you not know a thing or two about romance?" he demanded loudly.
