Where the Lotus Flowers Grow (3 page)

“You’re wrong.”

He swallowed, his eyes widening. “I’m not going mad?”

“It’s not an autobiography. Dickens said his most autobiographical book was
David Copperfield
. Not
Nicholas Nickleby
.” I thought I’d said it in my head, but the way his jaw dropped made it clear I’d articulated the statement.

Liam smiled again, his expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “She speaks. And what interesting things she has to say.”

I closed my eyes tightly. Now that I’d spoken, and in English, an avalanche of words tumbled out of my mouth. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to steal it, sir. I was only looking at it. I’ll resign, sir. You don’t have to bother yourself with sacking me.”

His voice was cool but strong, a rush of water quenching an out-of-control flame. “Calm down. No one is getting sacked.”

My eyes popped open. “No?”

“I believe you.”

Why did he believe me?
I wondered if I muttered that aloud as well because he answered the question.

“Of all the things on the bureau, the book is the least valuable. You skipped over a Cartier watch, gold cufflinks, and several hundred dollars in favor of a novel.”

“You’re wrong again. It is the most valuable.”

“Perhaps.”

He held out his hand for a handshake, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Most people in a prestigious hotel as this believed I was contaminated. They avoided touching me.

“Now then, my name is Liam Montgomery.”

I backed away.

“I know.”

He smirked, taking a step forward, but stopped, his foot hovering in midair before he stepped down. “Ah yes, I introduced myself already.” He dropped his hand.

I swallowed, realizing I’d rebuked him on some level, but instead of being angry, he seemed concerned, unsure, and cautious.

“In seven languages no less. Impressive,” I said, hoping my pathetic stab at humor had made a mark.

His grin returned, and I let out a breath so long, my diaphragm sighed with relief.

“And what is your name?”

“Mary. Mary Costa.”

“That’s not a very fitting name, is it?’

I straightened, exposing my stubborn, sardonic side I’d done so well in hiding from the world. “It’s a Catholic name. There are many Christians in India, sir.”

He arched a brow. “Of course.” His eyes wandered to the skin below my neck.

I covered it with my hand, feeling the cool glint of the cross that hung there, trying and failing to ignore the way my toes curled under his intense gaze.

“You misunderstand me, Mrs. Costa. I only meant that it’s a very simple name for an exceedingly complicated girl.”

A nervous giggle escaped me. The sound was so foreign I was sure it had come from someone else. “I’m not complicated, sir.”

“Liam. Call me Liam.”

“That’s not proper, Mr. Montgomery…sir.” With that, I relinquished the book.

He clasped it in his large hands, appearing slightly amused before his expression sobered. “As you wish, Mrs. Costa.”

“Miss. It’s Miss.” Had he called me by my surname? Did he not know I was a maid? I’d gotten used to being referred to as “maid,” or my first name, and sometimes just “girl,” but no one…no one ever called me by my last name.

“Miss Costa, would you care to borrow the novel?” He held it out to me.

I shook my head, backing into the dresser once more. The very thing that had rooted me in this room now acted as a deterrent. I held out a hand in protest. “I couldn’t.”

“Please, it would be my honor to lend it to you. I’m here for a week. You can return it anytime before then.”

I wondered if this might be a test on his part. “No, Mr. Montgomery, sir. Thank you for the generous offer, but hotel staff cannot accept gifts from guests.”

His smile tightened. “I’m very aware of the rules. We both work for the same company, after all. But this is not a gift. It’s a loan.”

“No, please.” No please? Did that even make sense?

He frowned. “Understood.”

“Have a good day, sir.” I said, doing some ridiculous curtsy as if he was a king. He did look regal, and at least the gesture caused the amused smile to come back. A deep line imbedded into his right cheek when he smiled just wide enough. I would call it a dimple, but it didn’t indent in a pucker, but creased the defined angle of his face in a solid line. For a moment, I wondered what it might be like to touch it, trace it with my finger, my lips.

As the thought appeared, I brandished it, mentally whipping my own dirty mind. I backed out through the door, stumbling once as my foot caught on the hem of the sari.

“Have a good day yourself, Miss Costa.”

Liam

Mary Costa. Her name repeated in my head, a blasted record that skipped with irritating regularity. She was pretty…not breathtaking. Okay, perhaps a little breathtaking. Her skin, the color of coffee with one shot of cream, radiated with a soft rosy blush when I caught her. Those chocolate eyes had gone wide. Her pouty mouth spun words so beautifully they rolled off her tongue in a lyrical way. Her long black hair twisted in a tight and complicated braid, except for a few loose rebellious strands that framed her face. The innocence of her stare did nothing to detract from her strong backbone. Not many people corrected me. It was the last thing I expected from her. I wanted to sketch her so much. I imagined mixing the colors and outlining her form, capturing each feature, freezing them on a canvas.

I shook my head, snapping out of it. My mum had wanted to be a writer, and she told me once what it was like. When an idea hacked into her head or she caught a snippet of interesting conversation, she didn’t walk, she ran to her typewriter to get it all down so it could exist in the world instead of just her head. It was a deep need, almost an addiction, she’d said.

That wasn’t what this was. I had found inspiration where I least expected it, but I didn’t want it. I sure as hell didn’t need it.

Still, the girl intrigued me. Besides her looks, the most interesting thing about Mary Costa was the way she aroused….my curiosity. Okay, she aroused other things, too. There were so many questions I had. Why was she a maid? She spoke perfect English. Surely, she could get a job at one of the new IT companies sprouting up all over India, or better yet, work the front desk here. Why sell herself short?

I contemplated this while watching her from the restaurant window, half-listening to Prabhat go over the financial analysis I’d already reviewed on the plane. She scrubbed tables by the pool, picked up discarded items, and refilled the towel rack. For some reason, I wanted to carry her away from this place. This life even. Ridiculous thought, that. Although I was careful in my leering, I had no right to look at her, or regard her at all for that matter. She was an employee. Any deviation from a professional relationship would ruin my reputation…and hers. She had her life. And I had mine. My very good life. Still, why was she here?

“Mr. Montgomery, you can see we have good prospects for an auspicious year ahead.”

“That may be, but the hotel is still losing money at an alarming rate.”

“But sir, this is a short-term issue. The downward pattern will change.”

Short-term, my arse. “Three years, Prabhat. That’s not a downward pattern. It’s a spiral. That’s not entirely your fault, but unless we see some growth possibilities, we cannot continue this way. I’m sorry, but difficult decisions will need to be taken.”

I hated this part of my job. Looking at this man, who no doubt had a family to support, and telling him the job he’d had for the past ten years was an uncertainty.

“I understand, Mr. Montgomery.”

I sighed, gathering up the sheets of paper. “Before we do anything, I’ll take another look at the books and run some comparisons.”

He straightened in his seat, his smile too wide for my small concession. “Thank you, sir. I think you’ll see if you just—”

“We’ll talk about it later. Now, have you set up the interviews for me?”

He sipped his tea. “Yes, all of our high-level staff is ready. I beg your pardon, sir, but I still don’t understand the purpose of the interviews.”

“Often times, the people who work for us have the greatest insight. They can see problems we cannot. Problems we need to provide solutions for.”

“Very smart, sir...brilliant.”

I didn’t care for or need the ego stroke. But I wouldn’t waste my breath telling him as much. Beneath the cloak of praise, it was clear the man didn’t like me. Under the circumstances, who could blame him? I was fine with the dislike. Hell, I would even respect it if he didn’t hide his hostility behind kissing my arse.

“Shall I start sending them in now?”

“I don’t want to speak with the high-level staff only. I told you I wanted conversations with all areas of the hotel.”

“Sir, most of our lower-level staff do not speak proper English.”

“Then get a translator.”

The teacup shook in his hand. “Of course, sir. I would be happy to translate.”

The last thing I wanted was him acting as translator. Everyone here feared me as it was. Except for Prabhat and senior staff, they didn’t even know I owned the hotel. But it didn’t matter. I was an outsider from the corporate office. That was enough to cause suspicion and distrust. They wouldn’t be honest in the first place. And even if they were, he’d make each response work in favor of the hotel.

“You’re far too busy, Prabhat.” I hated playing these games. I would rather tell him I didn’t trust him, but that wouldn’t be good for his productivity or mine.

“I’ll find someone to translate.” He looked pleased, following my gaze out to the courtyard. “It’s a nice day. Would you care to sit outside while doing the interviews?”

“Maybe.” He thought I was staring at the elliptical pool, not Mary Costa.

“What about her?” I asked.

“Her who, sir?”

“I think her name is…Mary.” As if her name didn’t roll around in my head at all odd hours.

“The maid?” he asked, as if the idea disturbed him. Not because he could detect my salacious thoughts, but perhaps the suggestion itself. “Is there another Mary?”

“Ah…no, sir. It’s only she isn’t capable.”

“She speaks excellent English.”

Prabhat looked more nervous than I’d seen him since I arrived last night. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, Mr. Montgomery. Mary only speaks Hindi. Maybe she knows a few broken words of English, but nothing that would suit the skill set of a translator. Did she bother you, sir?”

Now it was my turn to be surprised.

Prabhat called for the woman in charge of housekeeping, giving her orders in Hindi. A few moments later, my beautiful Lotus Girl stood before us, visibly shaking under Prabhat’s glare. I cursed myself because I knew better. This was such a small thing. In the States, in England, in France, in any other fucking place we had a hotel, this would not be an issue, but here…here my stupid fascination would cause her distress.

“Do you speak English?” Prabhat asked, ironically in Hindi. It was one of the few phrases I’d memorized in preparation for this trip. She stared between us, a doe caught in a trap. One I’d mistakenly set. Why didn’t anyone else know she spoke English? Why had she only revealed that part of herself to me?

Mary parted her lovely mouth, but nothing came out. She shook her head furiously. She looked lost, a girl in need of rescuing. And although I wanted answers to all the questions rattling in my head, I wanted to rescue her even more.

“Sorry, Prabhat. My mistake. This isn’t the girl I meant. I mixed up her name with someone else’s.”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Positive. I’ve met so many people since arriving. It’s difficult to recall names.”

He looked smug for a moment. “I can understand such mistakes. They are very common to foreigners who come here.” The accusation was clear. He thought I was some kind of racist who thought all Indians looked the same. He dismissed her. I caught her look of gratitude before she turned away.

I’m sorry. You’re welcome. You’re beautiful.
What I might have said in a different circumstance. Instead, I cursed to myself and bid her good-bye, wondering when I’d gone completely mental.

Mary

I found myself drawn to Liam, even spying on him as he prepared for an early morning swim. The pool area was surrounded by vegetation, which normally annoyed me when I tried to move about, but today it served me well. I’d wager he was part-fish the way he swam, his arms flexing with each rotation, his muscles glinting as he rose to the surface, shaking his head. He’d rubbed sunscreen over his body first. I didn’t recognize the brand. He might as well have put baby lotion on for all the protection the pretty white bottle would give him despite the promises on its western-style label.

I clutched the list in my hand that the woman in room 313 had given me. Getting a shopping list wasn’t unusual. I normally didn’t mind shopping for guests. It often resulted in a nice tip. But I didn’t want to run this errand. Not just because I’d have to miss the personal erotic theater of Liam Montgomery swimming, but also because I didn’t care for the contents of the list, especially one very unnecessary item. I also hated the way the woman had spoken to her daughter, belittling her, pinching her belly as she barked commands at me.

The girl was a few years younger than me, maybe eighteen or nineteen, but it felt like decades stretched between us. I offered her a reassuring smile, and she replied in kind but her chin quivered. Her uncertainty veiled her natural beauty as her mother hurdled insults at her. “You’re too fat. You’re too dark. You’re too spoiled. You’re too…” Always too something. Women were always
too.
Men were always
just
. “You’re just fine. You’re just perfect. You’re just right.”

I wondered if Liam had ever been a
too
or was he always a
just
? He carried himself with a confidence I admired. But it was his compassion I found most attractive. He smiled…not just at guests, but at everyone—the cook, the driver, the other maids. I might have been jealous which was ridiculous in itself, except it was a more composed, good-natured-but-stiffer version of the easy smile he had offered me. He said “please” and “thank you.” He left generous tips and had a kind grace about him. I exhaled, reminding myself he’d be gone in a few days. I wouldn’t have to think about him. I honestly did my best not to, except it was near impossible with all the whispered murmurs about his looks, the gossipy guesses about his personal life, the deep dreamy sighs of affection women had whenever he walked by.