Chapter 2 First Impressions

"Damn you!"

Isabelle kicked at the rock that nearly tripped her with an annoyed scowl.

"Stupid rock..." she muttered.

On a sigh she looked back up at the long driveway ahead of her.

Was this road taking her to the Sauvage mansion to heaven? Why was it so long?!

Isabelle tugged on her suitcase, damning every item of clothing in there that had made it this heavy, down to the tiniest thong! Why did she have to suffer this way?

Pausing for a moment, she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, glaring up at the sunny sky. Such horrible weather. Was this France or the middle of the Sahara desert?

With a groan, she trudged on. A few more torturous minutes that felt like hours finally brought her to the crunchy gravel before the Sauvage mansion.

Isabelle looked up at it with her mouth hanging open. She didn't remember it being so damn... shiny. And expensive looking.

The nostalgia hit her out of nowhere, bringing to mind flowery afternoons she spent playing on this huge property. Her mouth curved in a smile before she stilled it, reminding herself that she wasn't here on vacation.

Gosh, this magnificent house. Its tall French windows, the black, wide front stair railings, giving the house this dramatic feel. It had been changed since the time she was a child, but it still had this majestic air about it.

A house fit for an emperor.

Well, maybe a few centuries off there, but still.

Sighing, Isabelle trudged on.

Goodness, it was going to be a task. Housekeeping this gorgeous but gigantic house, coupled with the greatly feared Raphaël Sauvage all juggled with her book writing, which was her actual career.

It couldn't be helped. Aunt Rosa needed her help while her uncle was ill in Italy, so she'd have to suck it up and help her aunt. Even if it meant seeing Raphaël Sauvage again.

Ignoring the icy shiver running down her spine, she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

They weren't little kids anymore. She would look him in the face with no fear whatsoever.

Whether that happened before or after he froze her to death with his cold gaze was yet to be seen.

Ignoring that thought, Isabelle picked up her pace, her sandals making slight crunching noises on the gravel.

The birds were tweeting and the sun was shining, spring was in full bloom. The delightful sight brought nothing short of nausea to her stomach.

"God, I can't wait for winter," she panted as she approached the door. "Bloody butterflies."

Isabelle reached the front stairs and touched a hand to her head to ensure that all her thick, brown hair was neat. It wouldn't do good to look like she carried a beaver's nest on her head the moment he opened the door.

She whipped out a small mirror and flipped it open, checking her reflection. With a groan, she dabbed at the sweat glistening on her forehead with the sleeve of her denim jacket. That damn long driveway was now on her list of enemies.

Her heart-shaped face was well structured with soft, but visible cheekbones, soft lips and expressive blue eyes which sparkled when she laughed and flashed when she was angry. Which... was too often because of that nasty short temper.

She didn't know where she got it from because her mother had been the sweetest woman alive. And her father? Well... who knew if the man was even alive?

Shoving the mirror in her pocket and glancing down at her outfit, Isabelle hoped that the cute above-the-knee floral dress and the denim jacket weren't too casual for this.

But who gives a damn anyway? She liked her appearance and Damn him, with a capital D, if he felt otherwise.

With that settled, Isabelle lifted her hand and pressed the doorbell.

A somber 'Ding dong' sounded through the house and Isabelle shivered at the gloomy sound. It had sounded so dark, like she'd just rang the doorbell on the door to death.

She rocked back and forth on her heels, wondering where the bloody Butler was.

"Do they still have a Butler?" she murmured aloud. "Oh, right, they fired him when we were in fifth grade. Poor guy."

Isabelle stopped talking to herself when she realized nobody was answering the door. On impulse, she put her hand on the door knob and turned. The door glided open.

"Okay," she murmured. "Wow. Is this trespassing? This isn't trespassing, they're expecting me. They are expecting me, right?"

With no answers to the questions she was asking herself, she pulled her bags along and walked cautiously into the house.

"Woah." Stopping, she turned her face up to the chandelier, staring with her mouth open at every last thing in the front hall. She didn't remember this place looking like a five star hotel!

The floor? Wood shiny and expensive enough to buy her little broken car fifty times over!

Shaking her head, Isabelle walked further into the house. How was she supposed to keep this whole place running? How the hell had Aunt Rosa done it for so many years?!

Putting her hands on her hips, she looked around. When she was a little girl and would come by with Aunt Rosa, she was limited to the kitchen and the fabulous garden on the other side of the house. Her aunt was always too scared that young and very mischievous Isabelle would break some priceless glass thingamabob or forever damage some Sauvage treasure. Therefore, Isabelle was kept far away from the irreplaceables.

Never really came in here and she only ever caught glimpses of the precious Sauvage children.

The interior was truly beautiful.

The smooth white walls made her afraid to even sneeze in this parlor.

She walked on and then came to a large, beautifully furnished lounge area.

Damn, to watch a horror movie on that gigantic screen! Bucket list.

The large black sofas look ideal for a movie night too, although she couldn't imagine this beautiful wood floor littered with popcorn.

Suddenly, an arrangement of photographs captured her attention.

Slowly, her bags forgotten by the closed door, Isabelle approached the photos.

A father, a mother, a son and a daughter.

The beautiful Sauvage family as it once was.

Isabelle remembered the parents from her childhood. Then they died and Isabelle left France for Italy and then the States. She never really knew much about them after that. She wondered how the kids were doing.

Wondered how Raphaël was doing.

She never saw him for years, but she did hear that dear little Raphaël built an even bigger empire than his father. His reputation of business ruthlessness and his competitive streak were continuously explained to her by her maternal uncles in Italy who had heard all about his deals in Italy.

She ran a finger down a photograph of Raphaël. His thick brown hair worn collar length, a baseball bat in his hand.

He had always been such a handsome boy.

She ran a finger over his bright smile.

"Having fun?"

Isabelle jumped with fright and spun around, only to collide into the owner of the voice.

It was like running into a rock. She got shoved away by sudden impact, throwing her hands out wildly and seeking something to hold on to. When her desperate fingers found smooth, silky material, they held on tight.

Balance was restored.

And the awkwardness of the situation skyrocketed.

With her hanging onto the end of Raphaël's robe and with him standing there, hands behind his back, like she weighed no more than a chipmunk, the two stared at each other.

Until the sound of tearing silk split the air.

"Crap!" Isabelle muttered before the material ripped completely and she landed painfully on her bottom.

"Mummyyy!" she whined, then glared suddenly up at him. "Uh, ouch?! Couldn't you have caught me or something?"

Raphaël lifted an eyebrow, looking down at his torn robe, a large portion of his chest and abs visible. He looked at her, she who was glaring daggers at him.

"You have no manners, girl. I do not recall inviting you into my home. This," He pointed a finger at her. "...is called trespassing."

She narrowed her eyes in a deadly challenge. "You knew I was coming..."

Raphaël didn't answer. He was currently trying to match the face before him with that of the little girl he remembered. His eyes involuntarily travelled down her body, seeing her dress hiked up due to her fall and her jacket hanging off one creamy shoulder.

He could swear he'd never seen legs as long in all of France.

It made him think of sinful things.

And how disgusting of him. On the first meeting after years, too. Disgraceful!

He felt his lips part and immediately snapped his eyes back to her face. Only to find her still glaring at him.

Clearing his throat, he injected ice into his gaze, looking coldly at her.

"It can't be called trespassing, you knew I was coming," Isabelle repeated, her cheeks turning red.

Raphaël rolled his sleet grey eyes. "N'emporte quoi. Get off my floor and make yourself useful."

Her eyes narrowed even further as he started to walk away.

Well, how rude! He said she had no manners, but he behaved like this? This was the reception he gave guests?!

Only she wasn't a... guest. She was technically his servant for a week. Damn it.

"Oh, and uh... Isabella," Raphaël said suddenly, turning back to her. Isabelle found herself openly staring when he lifted his hand to his torn robe, undoing the belt and letting the silk slip off his powerful shoulders. Her throat was already dry at the mini strip tease, but it turned into sandpaper when he held the material out and dropped it onto her lap. "Make sure to go into town and get me a new robe. Silk. Black. "

With those last words, he turned and walked away, clad in only his black silk pajama bottoms.

Isabelle was still on the floor, staring.

Little Raphaël.

The man with the dark eyes, tousled hair and body sculpted by the gods was little Raphaël! How had Little Raphaël grown into that?!

Sure, he was only three years older than her twenty three, but fact remained that when they were younger, he was shorter than her.

She would still call him Little Raphaël, it didn't matter if he was bigger than her now. Dear Lord, he was much bigger. He was as big as a mountain.

"But that's not the point," Isabelle murmured to herself, eyes looking in shock at his butt.

He had a better butt than her.

In a flurry of rage, she flung the torn off piece of silk at his retreating back, only to have the flouncing material flutter ineffectively to the ground, not having made it even halfway to its destination.

And a big, arrogant destination it was too.

Sighing, she lifted herself off the floor. He didn't even help her up.

She rolled her eyes at his rudeness. She didn't know he was that way. She'd always seen him playing and laughing with his sister as kids. She'd thought he was nice!

She remembered those days when she wished they would call her to come and play with them, more specifically, with Raphaël. They never did.

They'd known she was there.

Usually when she'd poke her head out of the kitchen door, she'd see him and they'd stare at each other for a minute before she was called back into the kitchen by her aunt.

Those moments were special to her as a child. But oh, what nonsense.

She couldn't expect him to remember that and act like she was his long lost lover. She was the stand-in housekeeper, he was the boss.

And the first order of business was to get that chest of his and those abdominal muscles out of her head. Not to mention his butt which was better than hers!

Ugh. It would serve her well to forget, but damn it if she could ever close her eyes again without picturing honey or caramel dripping down that chest.

But anyway... back to real life.

He didn't even show her to her room, the cheek of him! Luckily she knew where it was.

On her way to the room her aunt usually used, something caught Isabelle's eye.

Her gaze snapped to a doorway. Nothing.

She could have sworn she saw something there.

She resumed walking, a little slower this time, and sure enough a small, dark figure once more appeared at the corner of her eye.

She spun around again and it was gone.

"Bloody hell," she muttered.

Wait...

Isabelle suddenly recalled her aunt mentioning a child. She hadn't heard most of what Aunt Rosa had said, having been too busy trying to figure out what was wrong with her broken car this time, but she remembered hearing something about a child. A little boy, to be exact!

Oh yes, that must be him. How could she have forgotten? He must've been playing a hide-and-go-seek of some sort.

A smile curved Isabelle's mouth as she continued to her room. She made a mental note to find him the second she put these bags down.

A sudden loud crash broke the silence.

Isabelle shrieked at the sound, feeling like her heart had exploded.

Half panicked, she abandoned her bags and turned to the place where the little boy had been hiding.

It came from somewhere there.

She hurried through the doorway and realized it was another wide corridor. Isabelle came to an immediate halt when she stepped into this corridor.

At the end, before a closed door, stood a beautiful little boy.

She smiled nervously. "Hey, buddy. You okay?"

With his dark, curly, brown hair unruly and his matching pizza slice pajamas, he looked absolutely adorable.

And being a sucker for adorable kids as they simply melted her heart, Isabelle was already moving towards him.

She swept her gaze over the remnants of a broken large vase and understood where the crash sound had come from. That wasn't what was worrying her though.

It was the look of tremendous fear in the child's eyes that was bothering Isabelle. His chubby little face was pale and his blue eyed were wide with guilt.

When he took a step back and two fat tears rolled down his cheeks, Isabelle stopped, her gut telling her something was wrong.

She held out a hand to him, feeling a sudden need to calm him. "Hey, it's okay, sweetie. Its just a vase."

Well, maybe it was an irreplaceable Sauvage treasure, but that was nothing for this poor baby to look so sad over. What's a bit of treasure anyway?

The kid didn't look like he was calming down at all. Isabelle wondered if it was okay to go closer to him. She should have paid attention when her aunt was telling her about him.

Suddenly, Raphaël appeared out of nowhere, his black tie hanging undone around his neck as he filled the doorway, staring at her.

For a second, her eyes roamed down his body. Yeah, that black shirt clung very well to his body. Very well indeed.

"What's going-" He stopped when his eyes landed on the boy.

Isabelle glanced worriedly at the child and then looked at Raphaël. "Little Raphaël... I think something's wrong with your son."