The limo circled the mermaid fountain and stopped at the front entrance, which was just as spectacular as the rest of the place. Sid got out, came around and opened the car door.
Demetrius stepped out and into his new life. The life he deserved. The one he’d come here for. He savored that knowledge, then turned and walked up the broad flagstone steps, passing between two pillars into a domed entryway to a pair of massive hardwood doors with dragon-head knockers. “This is living,” he said softly.
Gus sent him a knowing look, then returned his gaze to the entrance. “It was no mistake you gettin’ hit by that car, D-dog. No mistake at all. You see that naked blonde again, you oughtta be thankin’ her.”
A throat cleared. They both turned. Sid was standing behind them in his crisp uniform and chauffeur’s cap, with some of his carrot curls peeking out from beneath the hat.
“What is it, Sid?” Demetrius asked.
A small smile tugged at the corners of the younger man’s lips. “I was told to remain at your service. I’ll just park the limo and make use of one of the rooms in the staff quarters behind the garage—with your permission, sirs.”
Demetrius looked at Gus, who shrugged.
“How many bedrooms does this house have, Sid?” Demetrius asked.
“I believe there are twelve, sir.”
“That has to stop. It bothers me. Call me Demetrius, all right? And he’s Gus.”
“All right. Demetrius.” Sid looked as if he was battling a smile.
“I know. It’s a mouthful. So, Sid, you say we have twelve bedrooms. And how many staff members live here?”
“I’d have to find out.”
“Still, I don’t see why you should take a room in the garage.”
“It’s fine, really, sir—Demetrius, sir. The staff quarters are nice.”
“Still—”
“I’ve stayed there before. I really like it.”
“All right, then, if that’s the way you want it.”
“It is, sir.” He looked as if he was about to correct himself, then decided not to. “Will there be anything else?”
Demetrius glanced at the front doors. “No, I guess not.” But for some reason he couldn’t seem to make himself open them.
Sid looked at the two of them for a long moment, then nodded. “Maybe I should give you the grand tour of the place, show you everything you might need to know, introduce you to the staff.”
Demetrius sighed in abject relief, only realizing what he was doing when it was too late to prevent it.
“Yes,” he said. “That would be great, Sid. I am completely out of my element here anyway, and this … this is just a little bit overwhelming, even though …” He turned to look at the sprawling lawns, the gardens, the koi swimming in the fountain, his heart swelling a little in his chest. It was nice here. He would have everything he had ever wanted here. “Even though it was meant for me.”
Sid couldn’t possibly have understood, but he nodded as if he did and, reaching past Demetrius, opened the massive doors.
3
After five weeks, Demetrius was finally beginning to feel at home in the mansion.
He was lying on the chaise on the balcony outside his third-floor suite, basking in the Arizona sun. Below him, scantily clad models and actresses and various hangers-on frolicked in the pool, in the fountains, in the spa. So did Gus.
So had he, at first. And for quite some time over the past five weeks. But now he was bored. And extremely restless.
“Excuse me, Mr. D?”
He didn’t blink. Didn’t turn. He’d come to rely on Sid, the limo-driver-slash-man-Friday, more and more. Sid explained things to him when he didn’t quite follow them and didn’t ask questions about why he didn’t quite follow them. He didn’t ask questions about anything. Not when Demetrius had sawed off the cast on the jet. Not when he’d managed to make a starlet he’d seen on a television show appear at his front door and, later, in his bed. And not when he’d left a pile of caviar cans with holes burned through their bottoms on the ground out back after target practice with his amazing double-edged blade. Nothing.
“What is it, Sid?”
Sid hesitated before answering, which made Demetrius curious enough to turn and look up at the young man. Sid had a caring nature, Demetrius thought. Why anyone would care about him, he couldn’t have said, but it seemed that Sid did. Or maybe that was just considered part of his job.
“Well?”
“I’ll get to it in a minute. First, if my asking doesn’t piss you off too much, why so morose?”
Demetrius averted his eyes.
“You look like your puppy just died.”
“I don’t have a puppy.”
A burst of air escaped Sid’s lips. “It’s an expression. You take everything so literally.” He hurried to the opposite chair and sat down. “You might feel better if you talked about what’s bothering you.”
By the Gods, Demetrius thought, he’d made a huge mistake in telling this one to relax and be himself and not behave so formally. Sid was acting like a confidant and best friend, even an advisor.
Then again, what harm would it do to share his restlessness with the boy? “I feel as if I am … missing something.”
“Ahh.” Sid nodded slowly, eyes falling closed. “The love of a good woman.”
“Oh, hell no.” He’d borrowed that phrase from Gus. It was one of his favorites.
“A good man? But you already told me you play for Team Straight.”
Demetrius rolled his eyes, laid his head back and ignored Sid’s attempts to draw him into humor. “I’ll try to explain, though I’m not entirely sure myself what’s making me feel this way. But … take last night for example. Everyone was raving about those steaks that Gus grilled for us.”
“They really were amazing, God protect my heart from my love of red meat.” Sid crossed himself, then looked at Demetrius again and tipped his head to one side. “You didn’t like them?”
“I didn’t see what there was to like. They tasted just like everything else. No better, no worse. As far as I can see, the only real variations in food are the differences in texture. Some is mushy, some is chewy, some is crisp, some is crumbly. But it all tastes the same. Some is a little bit sweet, some a little salty, but that’s about it.” He looked at Sid, saw the absolute disbelief in his eyes, the way his mouth gaped open. “Isn’t it?”
Sid snapped his jaw shut. “No, boss. It isn’t.”
Demetrius sat up, put his feet down on either side of the chaise and rubbed his chin. “And what about the sex?”
Sid coughed, reached for Demetrius’s glass and helped himself to a sip of soda liberally spiked with vodka. He made a face. “Gawd, that’s strong. How many of these have you had?”
“Six. And I feel nothing. No different. I’ve seen the way others react to large quantities of alcohol, but not me. I have a feeling this is all connected. So tell me about the sex, Sid. And be honest. What does it … what does it feel like?”
Sid set the glass down, his face going completely serious. “Haven’t you had sex, boss?”
“Numerous