Millionaire Needed Someone To Watch His Cat, The Woman Who Helped Soon Became His Everything
The Mystery of the Master
The next morning arrived with startling speed. Tessa had packed enough clothes for three weeks and suspended her mail delivery. She arrived at Vincent’s house at 5:00 a.m. as requested, blurry-eyed but determined to get a proper handover before he departed.
Vincent opened the door looking impeccably put together despite the early hour. He was dressed in a tailored suit that Tessa suspected cost more than her car. His luggage, a single elegant leather suitcase, waited by the door.
“Morning,”
he said briskly.
“Coffee’s ready. Apollo’s had breakfast and medication. I’ll show you around properly now.”
The tour revealed just how massive the house actually was. It had five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a home office, a gym, a wine cellar, and a stunning outdoor infinity pool overlooking the ocean. Tessa tried not to gawk as Vincent explained the security system.
He showed her where everything was kept and handed her a binder with detailed instructions for Apollo’s care.
“You’ll stay in the guest suite,”
he said, showing her to a beautiful room with its own bathroom and a small balcony.
“My bedroom and office are off-limits unless there’s an emergency, of course.”
Tessa nodded, setting her duffel bag down beside the most luxurious bed she’d ever seen.
“My assistant, Marca, has left her contact information in the kitchen. The refrigerator is stocked, but you can order groceries for delivery if needed. Just keep the receipts. The housekeeper comes on Mondays. Any questions?”
Tessa had the distinct impression Vincent was anxious to leave.
“I think I’ve got it. Apollo and I will be fine.”
Vincent nodded, checking his watch again.
“My car is waiting.”
He reached into his jacket and handed her an envelope.
“Half the payment up front. The rest when I return.”
He showed her to the front door, where a sleek black car was indeed waiting in the driveway. Drivers stood at attention as Vincent picked up his suitcase. Apollo appeared from nowhere, winding around his legs.
To Tessa’s surprise, Vincent crouched down and stroked the cat with obvious affection.
“Be good for Miss Parker,”
he murmured.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
Then he was gone, leaving Tessa standing in the doorway of the enormous house with $5,000 in cash. She was alone with a cat who was now staring at her expectantly.
“Well,”
she said to Apollo,
“looks like it’s just you and me now.”
The first few days passed in a blur as Tessa adapted to her new temporary home. Apollo proved to be an excellent companion. He followed her from room to room and supervised her activities with feline intensity. She quickly learned his preferences.
He liked to be brushed while sitting on the kitchen island and preferred his water bowl filled to precisely three-quarters full. He enjoyed watching birds from the living room window in the afternoons. She spent hours exploring the house.
She marveled at the art collection that adorned the walls. As a former gallery assistant, she recognized several pieces by prominent artists. Their value was likely in the hundreds of thousands. Yet something about the house still felt impersonal.
It was as if it had been decorated by a professional without much input from its owner. The only space that felt truly lived-in was Vincent’s home office. She glimpsed it through the partially open door while passing by.
Unlike the minimalist aesthetic of the rest of the house, the office contained stacks of books, papers, and family photos. Respecting his privacy, she never entered. Still, her curiosity about the enigmatic Vincent Reinhardt grew.
On her fifth day, while making coffee in the kitchen, Tessa noticed Apollo pawing at a cabinet. Thinking he might have toys stored there, she opened it to find a collection of gourmet cat treats.
“You sneaky little thing,”
she laughed.
“Is this your secret stash?”
Behind the treats, something else caught her eye: a framed photograph. Curious, she carefully removed it. The picture showed a much younger Vincent, perhaps in his early twenties, standing beside a woman who resembled him enough to be his sister.
Between them was an elderly man in a wheelchair holding a kitten that looked suspiciously like a baby Apollo.
“Are these your people, Apollo?”
she asked the cat, who was now contentedly munching on the treat she’d given him. The doorbell’s chime startled her. Setting the photo back carefully, Tessa went to answer, wondering who would be visiting.
A professionally dressed woman in her forties stood at the door, tablet in hand.
“You must be Tessa,”
she said briskly.
“I’m Marca, Vincent’s assistant. Just checking that everything’s going smoothly.”
“Oh yes, everything’s fine. Apollo’s been a perfect gentleman.”
Marca’s professional demeanor cracked slightly as she smiled.
“May I come in? I need to pick up some documents Vincent forgot.”
“Of course.”
As Marca headed toward the office, Tessa followed, unsure of protocol.
“Can I get you some coffee or water?”
“No thank you, this will just take a minute.”
Marca unlocked the office with a key and stepped inside.
“Vincent mentioned you used to work at an art gallery.”
Tessa was surprised Vincent had mentioned anything about her at all.
“Yes, until it closed last week. The third gallery closure in town this year.”
Marca nodded sympathetically while selecting several folders from Vincent’s desk.
“The arts always suffer first in economic downturns. Shame about the Westbrook Foundation pulling funding.”
Tessa’s interest piqued.
“The Westbrook Foundation was funding galleries here?”
“They were the primary arts patron in the region until the old man died and his grandson took over. The new generation always has different priorities.”
Marca shrugged.
“Though in this case, I think Vincent is trying to right the ship before making new commitments.”
“Vincent? What does he have to do with the Westbrook Foundation?”
Marca looked up, genuinely surprised.
“You don’t know? Vincent Reinhardt is the grandson. He inherited the Westbrook fortune and foundation two years ago when his grandfather passed.”
“Changed his name back to his father’s after the inheritance to distance himself from the family drama, but everyone in business circles knows.”
Tessa felt her stomach drop. The Westbrook Foundation was a massive philanthropic organization that had funded arts education and medical research across the state for decades. If Vincent was now controlling those purse strings, he was enormously influential.
“I had no idea,”
she admitted. Marca smiled knowingly.
“That’s Vincent. He prefers people don’t know. Makes interactions more genuine.”
She gathered the folders and headed for the door.
“Don’t worry about Apollo; he’s the real boss around here anyway.”
