He found me in the library. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it the first time I went exploring. After the exhilarating freedom of swimming naked, I wanted something a bit more calming. I’d just fulfilled a fantasy I’d had for as long as I could remember, Swimming naked. More daring than I'd ever been but it was safe. He'd be talking business for hours.

I headed to my room afterwards. Wearing the towel as I went past his study had been a deliberate decision. I hoped he might see me, might even command me to drop the towel. He didn’t, too busy on his phone.

I kept walking, hearing him giving overtime payments as his voice faded away. He clearly wasn’t as rough and tough as he was making out. There was a heart in there somewhere and I got the feeling I might be able to find it given enough time.

Time wasn’t on my side though. I only had six more days with him. That was nowhere near long enough to even crack the surface of the man.

Even when I was swimming, I wasn’t really thinking about living my dream of floating naked without a care in the world. I was thinking about how I wanted him to finish his meeting and come downstairs to find me and then join me in the water.

As I dried my hair upstairs, I imagined what life might be like with him. How good would it feel to live somewhere like this? To never have to cook for myself, to start every single day with a swim in that pool. To wake up next to him.

It was a dream I’d never achieve. I knew that. I could buy my own place with a pool but would that be the same? It would mean spending the money on me instead of the company and that wouldn’t be right.

One million pounds. It was such a lot of money. How much had I earned already. I came here at nine o’clock yesterday morning and it was heading towards noon. Twenty-six hours. More than a day gone already. Was the money worth it when the price was never contacting him again? Never seeing that body again? Never looking into those eyes that seemed to see straight through my clothes and through my skin into my soul.

Once I was dry and dressed, using the underwear I’d found neatly folded in the chest of drawers near the bed, I headed downstairs. I made a mental note to ask him how he’d known my exact bra size but then I remembered what the cook had said. He was rich enough to have people find out everything about me. I shouldn’t have liked that but something about it made me feel special, like he’d taken the time because he personally wanted to know more about me. It might not have been true but there was always the chance. What was the harm in being optimistic?

There was the kiss after all. So soon after he tried to spank me. When I’d almost seen him naked in the study and then kissed his cheek. Sure, he’d told me to act but that had just given me the excuse to do what I wanted to do anyway, knowing he couldn’t stop me without giving away that I had been hired for the occasion.

When I pressed my lips to his cheek, I felt the roughness of his stubble and caught a hint of the scent of him, deep and dark and all man, just like I dreamed it would be.

A door was open that I hadn’t noticed before and I went in to find a maid cleaning the shelves of a library, running a duster along them whilst humming to herself. “Mind if I settle in?” I asked.

She nodded. “You don’t need to ask me for permission, Miss.”

“I’m asking anyway. Any books you recommend?”

“I couldn’t possibly say.” With that she scurried off, leaving me alone. I looked along the rows of volumes before settling on a battered copy of David Copperfield that looked like it hadn’t been read for about a hundred years.

Settling into an overstuffed armchair, I lost myself in the pages until I felt a shadow falling over me. Looking up I saw it was him. “Beginning your life with the beginning of your life,” he said, nodding towards the title. “Be careful with that, it’s a first edition.”

I almost dropped it when he said that. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I put it down on the table beside me as delicately as I could. “I wouldn’t have touched it if I’d known.”

“Books are meant to read,” he said with a shrug. “Are you a fan?”

“Of books or of Dickens?”

“Both.”

“Then yes. To both.”

“My great great Granddad was friends with him.”

“You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I can prove it.”

“How?”

“I’ve got some things of his somewhere in the attic. Gave them to the family when he was dying.”

I laughed. “Next you’ll be telling me you’ve got the end to Edwin Drood up there.”

“I don’t know about that but I’ll go have a look at some point. See what I can dig up.” His face was as inscrutable as ever.

“You’re serious. Your great great Granddad knew Charles Dickens? The Charles Dickens?”

“I was named for Nicholas Nickleby. It’s been a family tradition to name the children after characters from his books. I was lucky. My father was named Steerforth.”

“Could have been worse. It could have been Squeers.”

“That’s very true. Listen, I wanted to thank you for this morning.”

“Did we pull it off? Is your deal going ahead?”

“It looks like it. I wondered if you weren’t busy, would you like to join me for afternoon tea outside?”

“I’d love to.”

I got to my feet, following him through the house towards the open back door, a warm breeze blowing in as we stepped out into the sunshine. “Where are we headed?” I asked.

“I thought down by the fish pond.”

“I'd prefer chicken.”

A picnic had already been laid out by the time we got there. Two wicker chairs with a small table between. On the table was a basket and from it he pulled a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Nice day for it,” he said while pouring a glass for me. “Enjoy.”

I sat back in the chair with the glass in my hand, watching the sunlight sparkle on the pond in front of me. On the far side a duck moved slowly across the water, oblivious to the two of us. “It’s beautiful here,” I said. “How big is the garden?”

“Oh, just a couple of hundred acres. It was bigger but my grandfather sold some off for farming just before Queen Victoria died.”

Just a couple of hundred acres,” I said quietly in disbelief.”

“Why? How big’s your garden?”

“I don’t have a garden.” I looked at him and he seemed surprised. “Do you have any idea how most people actually live?”

“Actually I do.”

“Oh really? Growing up in a place like this, you get a great view of what poverty’s like, do you?”

“I was thrown out of here when I was twelve. I had to live on the streets because I’d argued with my father. I got to watch my little sister die from a distance because he wouldn't let me back in the grounds. I had no money, no home, and no sister. So, yes I know what it’s like to have nothing. I was told you had a garden, that’s why I asked.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”

“Not everyone is how they look on the surface, Jodie. I had to build myself up from nothing and I did it. I started working at twelve and I vowed I would never be poor again. I started with carrying barrows at the market from four in the morning until seven at night. It nearly killed me but it paid enough to keep me alive. I have worked for every penny I’ve earned. I got my first million by the time I was twenty and it nearly killed me but by the time I was twenty-five I had enough saved to buy this place back when my father died and left no will. I bought it off the state and moved back in and I’ve been here ever since. He hadn't touched Jessica's room since she died and I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone touching it. I left it the way it was.”

He lapsed into silence and my hand found the top of his, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous. There is a garden at the apartment block but it belongs to the landlord. No one else is allowed in it. I shouldn’t have judged you like that. I just thought-”

“That I’d inherited money and never had to work hard. I get up at five every morning and work all day because I remember what it was like to live on the streets.”

I could read between the lines. He was at least partly doing it because of his sister.

“Is it worth it?” I asked. “Working so hard, I mean.”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice here but your cook’s not as good as Pepe.”

“I heard about that place. Have a look in the basket.”

I looked down, realising my hand was still on his. I let go reluctantly, peering down under the cloth that lined the inside of the basket.

“Oh my God, you got Pepe to make Florentines. He never makes those anymore.”

“He did when I told him they were for you.”

I glanced behind me, someone was walking across the lawn towards us. It was his secretary.

“Gwyneth,” he said without turning to look at her. “I would recognise that march anywhere. Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t to be disturbed?”

“I’m sorry, Sir but it’s the Prime Minister again. Said it’s urgent.”

“I will call back when I’m done with these Florentines.”

“What should I-”

I snapped, “Tell her I will call her back when I am ready. Everything is always urgent since that bloody Europe vote. She can wait until I am done with Miss Harris. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir.”

She walked away and he turned back to look at me. “My apologies.”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t you want to take the call?”

“It’ll be asking for a donation. That’s the only reason anyone ever gets in touch with me.”

“It must be hard.”

“What is?”

“Never getting any time to yourself, always in demand like that.”

“I never gave it much thought. Anyway, take a Florentine. Tell me if they’re any good.”

I bit into it, remembering why I loved Pepe’s bakery so much.

“Good?” he asked, taking one for himself.

“So good.”

“Excellent.”

“Look, I feel guilty taking up your time. I think you should go return that call.”

“I am spending time with you.”

“But it was the Prime Minister.”

“So?” He frowned, examining me closely. “It’s making you uncomfortable, isn’t it? Not ringing her back.”

“A little.”

“Then I will go and return the call. I insist you stay here and sunbathe. I will see you tonight. Be ready for eight. We’re going out in public, solidify this decent human being act.”

“I don’t think it’s an act. I think you’re already a decent human being. You just hide it.”

He walked away without another word but I watched him and he glanced back for just a moment. When he did there was a flicker of a smile on his lips. Then he was gone.

There was a blanket laid out beside the chair and I moved to it, the wine making me feel light-headed. Going out tonight at eight with billionaire Nick Stempel. Just another ordinary day.