The Chauffeur Read online

  “April, talk to me,” he nearly whines. “Did you go to college? And elaborate on that please."

  I sigh out of exasperation and focus on the road ahead of me.

  “Yes, I went to college at Northwestern. I have a master’s in literature. I graduated high school at the age of sixteen, started Northwestern that same year, and earned my master’s at the age of twenty-two.”

  “Master’s?” I look back at him. He appears shocked. “Is driving a car all you want to do with your life?” I stare back at him in the mirror.

  “I am doing something with my life, Mr. Rowe,” I reply, offended.

  “Like what?”

  I’m starting to get a little annoyed with his prying questions.

  “Is this part of the interview process, Mr. Rowe? I understood I already had the job.” Our eyes meet in the mirror once more after pulling in front of the Rowe building. Jumping out, I open his door for him, avoiding his gaze. Once he exits the car, I shut the door. Miffed, I closed the door a little too harshly.

  “Have a good day, sir.” I quickly pull away from the curb, glancing at him in the mirror. He’s just standing there, and once I drive off, my cell phone begins to ring.

  “April Sanders,” I answer curtly.

  “Ms. Sanders, it’s Jason Rowe.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You have my briefcase.”

  Shit!

  Chapter 4

  ~Jason~

  I chuckle when I see the Maybach’s brake lights, and the car comes to a screeching halt. April sits there a long moment, and I grin because I know what she’s doing; she’s kicking herself in the ass. A mighty fine ass, too, I might add. When the car begins to move again, she inches around the fountain and pulls up to the curb where I’m waiting. Once she gets out, she reaches inside the back seat and retrieves my briefcase.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she says. “It was my mistake. I should have checked the back seat.”

  “April?” I say in a scolding tone.

  “Yes, sir?” She turns and focuses on the buttons of my shirt instead of looking in my eyes.

  “Do you think you can stop calling me sir? Please? I would prefer you call me Jason.” I pocket my hand when I get the urge to touch her face.

  She lifts her chin, and her eyes linger on my mouth. Her lips part slightly, and I swear she’s about to kiss me but steps back instead.

  “No, sir,” she says defiantly.

  My jaw goes slack when she walks around the car and gets in without looking back.

  “I’m wounded,” I say to myself.

  After gathering my wits, I realize how silly I must look standing there watching the car drive away.

  “Why doesn’t she like me?” I ask myself.

  “Who doesn’t like you?” asks a familiar voice.

  “Oh … um … April, our new driver. She doesn’t like me.”

  Sue’s looking at the same thing I am—nothing.

  “Oh, she’ll come around. Come on,” she says, tapping my upper arm. “We have some clean-up to do regarding Kate.”

  As soon as we enter my office, I hurry behind my desk and call Kate, hoping to smooth things over with her.

  “Jason,” Kate snaps. “Don’t fucking call me again.” And with that, she slams the phone down.

  “Wow, she doesn’t like me either,” I say, looking at the phone in my hand.

  Sue starts to giggle.

  “It’s not funny. I’m sensitive.” With perfect timing, we both burst out laughing.

  “That’s crazy, Jason, of course, she does,” Sue says, throwing her head back again as she leaves my office. She’s laughing so hard I can hear her from the other side of the door.

  Kate and I have been through a lot together, and I’ve extended an olive branch. If she doesn’t want to accept it, there’s not much I can do about it. But I will keep my eyes open. I’m not taking her threats lightly.

  I look up from my computer when a knock on the door penetrates my musing.

  “Are you ready to go, son?” Mother asks. I look at my watch, and my eyes go wide.

  “Six thirty, already?”

  “Yes, come on. April has the car waiting.”

  I gather my paperwork and arrange it in neat stacks in my briefcase, put on my suit coat, and turn off my desk lamp.

  “What’s for dinner? I’m starving,” I ask, holding the elevator door for her.

  “I think Rita’s made shrimp carbonara. Is that suitable?”

  I smile my approval.

  Even though April has the car doors open for us, I escort my mother to her seat, shutting the door before rounding the other side of the car. April stands dutifully at my door and shuts it after I get in.

  After we’re buckled in, she slides in behind the steering wheel and raises the privacy glass.

  “What did she do that for?” I ask.

  “To give us privacy. Why do you think?”

  I sit back and stare out the tinted window.

  “What’s going on with you, Jason? Is it April? Do I need to let her go and start looking for someone else?”

  “No!” I shout, my head snapping in her direction.

  “I knew it!” she says, pointing her finger at me.

  “You knew what?” I ask, adjusting my seat belt.

  “You like her.”

  “Of course, I like her, Mom. Everyone does.”

  “All right, Jason. Whatever you say.” She giggles and lowers the privacy window.

  “What are you doing?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  “April, dear?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Rowe,” she answers, looking at us in the mirror.

  “As you know, John will be vacating the apartment on Friday. We’ve hired movers to pack him up.”

  “Did you need me to help with the packing, ma’am?”

  What kind of question is that? Of course, she won’t help with the packing!

  “Oh, no, dear,” Mother says, shaking her head. “I’m having people come and paint this weekend, and I’d like you to give me an idea of what colors you would prefer on your walls.”

  “Oh. Um … I’m more of an earth-tone girl, ma’am. I prefer an eggshell white with a satin finish if you don’t mind. I like accent pieces to add color.” She glances at me in the mirror and then looks away. I can still see her eyes as she watches the road. They’re beautiful.

  “Do you need my help? Emily and Sam have offered their help if it’s needed.”

  “Emily and Sam?” Mother asks.

  “They’re my closest friends. Emily—you may recall Kyle mentioning her—is the brain and Sam is the brawn. He can move just about anything.”

  Sam, huh? Mr. Brawny? As in paper-fucking-towels?

  “No, April, that’s not necessary, but thank you for offering.”

  “Mrs. Rowe, I have a few questions that need clarification if you don’t mind.”

  My eyes focus on her for the millionth time.

  “What is it you need to know?” Mom asks.

  “Well, first, I have a car and John said that I should park it beside the garage.”

  “There’s a covered double space for your vehicle and a guest just to the right of the garages.”

  When I see the disappointment in her eyes, and her shoulders droop, I know that won’t work at all.

  “Mother, have you seen her car? It’s a BMW Roadster for god’s sake. She can’t park that outside, especially when the weather hits. She can have one of mine. I’ll put Betsy in storage. That way, April can have the two spaces for her friends when they come.” Her posture picks back up, and she smiles at me.

  “All right, April, Jason will show you where to park your car when you arrive next week. Next question.”

  “Am I permitted to use the pool? You see, I like to run and swim for exercise.”

  Good God, April in a bikini? And she runs, too. Isn’t that a coincidence?

  “Absolutely. You haven’t seen the back yard, have you? There’s a larger family pool towa
rd the house, and there’s a smaller pool next to your apartment. John never used it the entire time he lived there. I’ll make sure Garrett readies it for your personal use. Any more questions?”

  “Yes, ma’am, one more. Do you have a policy as far as me entertaining guests?”

  Entertaining guests? You mean like Mr. Brawny-paper towel?

  Mother gives me an evil grin.

  “Are you talking about a boyfriend?”

  April’s gaze snaps to the mirror at the same time mine does.

  “Um … yes?”

  Mother laughs, but I don’t. When she looks at me, she laughs even harder.

  “I have no problem with you having overnight guests, as long as it’s clear there’s only one tenant in the apartment. If you have family come from out of town or something of that nature, just let us know, and there should be no problem. If you wish to have a party—”

  “No, ma’am, there will be no parties. I assure you. I will only have my closest friends over occasionally, and two of those are dating your children. They’ll most likely be at your home more than mine.”

  After arriving home, April pulls around to the front door.

  “I’ll ride with you to put the car away," I volunteer. "I'll show you where to park your car after you move in.”

  “Yes, sir,” comes her quick reply before she jumps out of the car.

  Sir? What happened to Jason? I pound my head against the back of the seat.

  My mother sneaks glances at me as she gathers her things.

  When April opens the door, I twist my body to get a better view of her. She escorts my mother to the front door, where they stop to chat for a few more minutes. What are they talking about? I turn around in my seat when she starts running back to the car. After she drives to the back of the garages, we both exit the car at the same time, and I wait while she places the keys on the board and signs them back in. John created the sign-in and sign-out procedure to keep track of the keys for the various vehicles we have. It’s worked out very well, and I’m glad April plans on using it.

  “It’s this way, April,” I say. “My cars are on the other side of the boat house. It’s a bit of a walk, but if you use the breezeway, you’ll be protected in inclement weather.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I stop and turn around to face her.

  “April, is there ever going to be a time when you will stop calling me that?” She strains her neck to look up at me and in doing so, takes a step back to keep her balance. Taking a step forward, I close the distance.

  “Um, Mr. Rowe, please don’t make me stop with that formality.” She takes another slow step backward.

  “Why?” I ask, following her.

  “B-because it’s habit, sir,” she stutters, taking another step back.

  “Break it,” I say in a near whisper, taking a step forward. My face is so close to hers I can smell her sweet breath. I can almost feel my mouth on hers, my tongue tangling with hers. I want to taste her. I want to feel her body against me.

  “M-Mr. Rowe?”

  “Yes, April?”

  “W-what are you doing?” Her squeak brings me back to reality. I have her pinned backward over the storage bench, and her hands are clutching the countertop for support.

  Cursing myself, I step away as if I’ve been shocked. “Just stop calling me sir, April. Just stop it, all right?”

  “Yes, sir … er … Mr. Rowe. Good night, Mr. Rowe,” she says before scurrying away like a field mouse.

  After hearing her car speed away, I pace the garage.

  “What the fuck, Rowe!” I yell. My head hangs between my shoulders while I curse myself for scaring her.

  “What’s going on, big brother?” Kyle asks, slinking around the corner.

  Startled, I wheel around to face him. “Nothing.” I swallow thickly and start walking toward the house, knowing he’s directly behind me.

  “Pretty, isn’t she?”

  I stop in my tracks and turn around. What’s he inferring?

  “She can dance, too.” A smug grin comes over his face. He leans against the door frame, arms and ankles crossed.

  “What is that supposed to mean? Like I should care if she can dance or not?”

  “I was dancing with her on Friday night. The girl has the moves. Every male in the room was checking her out—including Emily’s brother. That is until April blew him off and Nicole sunk her claws into him. Yeah, this is going to be entertaining.”

  “What is?”

  “Watching all the guys coming in and out of here trying to get a piece of her.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Kyle!” I take the four short steps to stop short in front of him.

  “Okay. I won’t say another word, brother.” He throws his hands up in submission. “But if it doesn’t work out between Emily and me, I might have to make a play for her myself. Have you seen the legs on her?”

  I’m about ready to put my fist through his face when I realize what he’s doing. He’s baiting me just like mom did.

  “Listen, Kyle, she’s beautiful, okay? But there can’t be anything between us. She’s an employee, and we come from different worlds.”

  “You’re right. You come from the silver spoon variety. April comes from the salt of the earth kind that uses her college degree for the betterment of society by teaching underprivileged children and adults at the center three weekends a month, and after work, if she has the spare time.”

  “What? What did you say?”

  “You heard me,” Kyle says.

  Then the comment she made makes sense.

  “Is this all you want to do with your life?”

  “I am doing something with my life, Mr. Rowe.”

  I am such a shit.

  “For some reason, she likes to drive snobs around and be treated like pond scum, like the guy she was working for before she came to us.”

  “What do you mean? Did he treat her badly?”

  “Emily says that guy felt her up any chance he got until Sam threatened him,” he explains, leaning against the workbench. “But that didn’t last very long, and he was back at it about two weeks later.”

  “Again with this, Sam!” I say to myself.

  “According to Emily, he’s a total Adonis.” I stop pacing long enough to see him use the air quotes.

  “What’s so fucking funny now?”

  “You should hear what she calls you.” He bends over in a full belly-laugh, and now I’m really pissed.

  “What?” I ask, rolling my eyes, taking his bait. “What does she call me?”

  “Oh, no. Emily swore me to secrecy. But I will tell you it was given to you the day she took you and Kate to the airport.” His hand smacks the counter before he bends over in laughter again.

  “You better fucking tell me, Kyle.”

  “I gotta go. I promised Emily a phone call tonight.”

  He starts to leave but stops at the door, turns to me and bursts out laughing again.

  The day she took me to the airport? What could it be? I was a perfect gentleman. While I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out what it could be, I hear a ruckus from the backyard. Someone is shouting outside.

  Spending a few minutes in the quiet garage, I head out toward the pool and see Kyle hanging out over his balcony. He’s wearing one of Nicole’s wigs, and I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he looks.

  “Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?”

  What’s he doing quoting Shakespeare?

  “What's in a name? That which we call a rose

  By any other name would smell as sweet.”

  “What the fuck are you doing, Kyle?”

  “Oh, Romeo, Romeo,” he says again before he goes into the house—laughing, of course.

  I shake my head at his antics, and then it hits me like a load of bricks.

  “Romeo? She calls me Romeo?”

  I run up the stairs with the sole purpose of clobbering my brother when I pass my giggling mother on the landing.

>   “This is going to be fun,” she says.

  I stop in my tracks and turn toward her. “What did you just say, Mother?”

  She shuts her bedroom door behind her, and I hear her laughter continue on the other side of it. And so is Kyle. I barge into his room, where he’s literally rolling on the floor laughing his ass off.

  “Mom, Romeo hit me!”

  Chapter 5

  ~April~

  I bolt out of the garage and away from Jason as quick as I can and jump into my car. If it were any other driveway, I would burn some serious rubber.

  What the hell was that? Was he going to kiss me? I believe if I hadn’t said anything, he would’ve. I surprise myself by giggling at the whole thing when my phone vibrates, and I press the button on my steering wheel.

  “This is April,” I announce.

  “Hey, doll.”

  “Hey, Sam. What’s up?” Just hearing his voice makes me smile.

  “I’m in the mood for Chinese takeout and thought you could use some company. Did you eat yet?”

  “You’re the best, Sam. I’m just getting off work and on my way home. Meet me there? You know what I like.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you in about twenty.”

  My thoughts wander back to Jason and what had just happened. I decide to say something to him because I’m not going to allow him to ruin this job for me.

  ~.~

  The following morning, I sprint up the stairs to my apartment after a three-mile run. Glancing at my watch on my way to my room, I frown because I don’t have as much time as I’d like. I have a quick stop to make before work. After hurrying through my shower, I pull on a pair of black leggings, a long, white, fitted blouse, and a black vest. After zipping up my knee-high riding boots, I buff them to a shine. Since I don’t have time to spend on my hair, I slide on a wide tortoiseshell headband and glance at my watch again. On my way out, I slip my bag over my shoulder and reach for the front door when I remember the leftover Chinese I packed for lunch. I grab it and head down to my car.

  “He’s just too hard to ignore,” I mutter to myself. When you have that level of handsomeness towering over you, so close you can feel his breath on your face, his lips mere inches from your own, there’s no way to ignore it. I will have to make it a point to steer clear of Jason Rowe. That should be easy enough to do, right?