Taming The Billionaire

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He raised one dark brow, but this time seemed rather amused by her enthusiasm instead of annoyed.

He gestured toward the hallway leading to the rotunda. “Shall we?”

As they walked down the hall, she once more glanced into the open rooms. For the most part, they were bare. Some were decorated with boxes and sheet-covered lumps that could have been furniture. Intricately carved doors and elaborate lighting fixtures coated in dust reinforced their lack of use.

As they reached the rotunda, Tate paused. He braced himself in the middle of the round room, staring up the magnificent staircase as if he were challenging it. A multitiered chandelier that Willow hadn’t been able to make out in the dark hung from the very high ceiling. A row of small windows around the top of the rotunda let in light that bounced off the chandelier’s crystals.

“Sabatini House was built by a pirate,” he started, his voice echoing slightly off the walls. “It took over ten years to complete, though he brought his bride here after only three. It’s built to celebrate the spot where the water forges its connection with the land.”

Willow started to open her mouth, started to question whether the stories of the underground caves were true, but then she remembered the cut of his reprimand this morning. She quickly closed it again.

The last thing she needed was to aggravate Tate at the moment. She’d hold all of her questions as long as she possibly could. After all, she wanted him to be able to at least tolerate her. Maybe there would be a time to ask her questions later, after he got used to her being around.

Or maybe she could settle for something benign? Like “How long have you lived here?”

“The house has had a long and varied history,” Tate said. “My family were direct descendants, so I’ve lived here all of my life.”

She thought of how much her own little house meant to her and her family. It wasn’t anything as magnificent as this, but it was a direct link to their people. “Wow,” she said. “That must be an incredible feeling.”

The indistinct noise Tate made drew her gaze away from the impressive rotunda to his face. He stared at nothing with a deep frown. “Both a blessing and a curse,” he said.

She ached for him to explain, but he simply turned away. Where was his family now? she wondered. Why did they leave him all alone? These were definitely questions she should not ask.

And he certainly wasn’t volunteering that information.

Instead he kept to the general. “The house was built to withstand the rough weather of the outer islands. Tropical storms, hurricanes, flooding—they all pose a threat. But not to Sabatini House. After a lifetime living on ships at sea, that pirate knew exactly what he was up against. Even the erosion of the ocean was guarded against when building the foundation.”

Curiosity burned in Willow’s throat. He had to be referring to the flood of the ocean beneath the mansion. Were the rumors true? Murdoch had refused to deny or confirm the existence of caves beneath Sabatini House, stating it wasn’t his place to say.

Tate’s strong legs carried him up the stairs. “Sabatini House doesn’t have an elevator. All the upper floors are reached through this staircase, or the one on the opposite end from the kitchen. If a room is locked, it is off-limits to you. That includes the third floor.”

Panic swallowed up Willow’s reserve. “But what if—”

Tate paused, twisting around to stare down at her from a few steps above. “Off. Limits.”

“Right,” she mumbled as they continued up the stairs. She struggled not to show her unease. Her personal reasons for taking this job included finding the answer to a family mystery...an answer that probably hid in one of the third-floor rooms, if Murdoch’s information was correct.

Resolving to find a way, Willow focused once more on the current tour.

As they traversed several hallways, Tate gave short explanations about architecture, molding and carvings in the plaster. But nothing personal. Nothing meaningful. He could have been a boring docent in a beautiful museum for all the enthusiasm he infused in his words.

Many of the rooms were dusty. Some were completely empty. He hadn’t been kidding when he said there wasn’t another mattress in the place. One of the downstairs living areas had been decorated with “more modern” furniture from the fifties or sixties. Any bedrooms had empty bed frames—beautiful, but achingly empty. While Tate obviously understood the history of the house—the why and how it was built—that didn’t translate into pride of ownership.

Willow’s hands itched to work on some of the antiques that they passed. A large grandfather clock. Leather-bound books. Incredible pieces of furniture covered in dust cloths...or simply dust. Restoring antiques was a passionate hobby of hers, but she doubted Tate would appreciate her efforts.

They came to the wing on the second floor that Willow remembered from this morning. It was closed off from the main hall with heavy wooden doors carved with intricate swirled designs.

Tate paused. “This wing holds my suite of rooms,” he said. “If these doors are open, you may come down the hall. You’ll of course need to clean and gather laundry. But my office is absolutely off-limits.”

He pulled the heavy floor-to-ceiling doors open with a loud creak. Guess there was no sneaking in here... She smothered a giggle. Tate didn’t seem the type to appreciate her subversive brand of humor.

This hallway was darker than the others. Most of the adjoining doors were closed, cutting off the light from outside. Tate pointed to the far end. His face was grim as he said, “My bedroom suite. You can go in there to change the sheets or clean the bathroom. But cleaning only.”

He pointed to a long table on one side of the hallway. “That door there is my office. If any mail comes that needs to be attended to, you can set it on the table and I’ll get it when I’m ready.”

He turned to study her, his expression almost expectant. She knew he was wondering why she didn’t ask any questions. Her earlier behavior had proved her curiosity. But the questions she wanted to ask weren’t appropriate. Like, why are you keeping these rooms off-limits? What is it you have to hide? Why can’t I bring the mail to you, instead of just leaving it on the table outside?

None of his secrecy or demands for privacy made any sense.

Finally he continued, “The third story and turrets are off-limits.”

It was a struggle not to roll her eyes like a smart-alecky teenager, despite the unease that resurfaced. She was beginning to think the word off-limits was his absolute favorite.

“There’s nothing up there that you need to be involved in, and some of the rooms could be dangerous from disrepair. As evidenced by the roof caving in last night.”

“I thought you said the roof had been inspected?”

“It is, yearly. But as you can see, in a house this old, anything is possible. Even when you’re careful.”

She trailed behind him as they went back down the stairs, only this time he curved around behind the staircase and down another, much smaller set of stairs. Her heart started to thud as the sound of the ocean grew louder in her ears.

“Down here you’ll find the laundry room, and some storage areas where we keep extra supplies.”

He walked down the hallway. The floor seemed to be carved straight out of rock. The laundry room was industrial-sized, but obviously converted from something else that had been there for many, many years. The storage room was lined with shelves. The cool atmosphere was perfect for storing a variety of items and keeping them fresh. She could just look around these rooms and see the history of them, feel how integral they had been to a huge busy household that had many mouths to feed. The history buff in her shivered with excitement.

The other side of the hall had one large, long room with a door open at each end. The space was full of exercise equipment. Guess she now knew where Tate’s bulk came from.

“I work out every night.” Gesturing toward a phone at one end of the room, he added, “You can reach me on the intercom here if necessary.”

At least he wasn’t off-limits when he was working out. Although seeing him half-dressed and sweaty might be more than she could resist. After all, that might make her forget his current attitude...

They made their way back toward the bottom of the staircase. Willow kept expecting him to mention the sound of the ocean and the underground cave that was rumored to be part of the house, but he never did. She’d been a good girl, keeping herself focused on the essentials and not plying him with questions. But as he took that first step up the stairs, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Is it true?”

He turned to stare down at her, his brooding look almost daring her to ask the question. But she couldn’t help herself.

“Are there underground caves here beneath Sabatini House?”