“You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”
“Isn’t really my place. But you care for Mrs. Blackthorne, right? Maybe she’ll tell you.”
The woman who thinks her possibly dead grandson is alive? Sure. “It’s not important for me to know.”
“You’ve met Lucian?”
I’m beginning to think everyone keeps asking me about him to see what I think of him, like he’s some kind of deal breaker for me. Devil, or not, he’s not scaring me out of this job. “I have. He’s … pretty intense.”
“Yes. Very. But not so bad, once you get to know him.”
“I don’t think he likes me very much.”
“He’s not a people person. Assuming you stay, he’ll warm up eventually.”
Warm up? I can’t imagine that. I found the guy’s personality frigid enough to replenish the polar icecaps. “It seems I’m not expected to stay long.”
With a sigh, she glances around my room again. “This place isn’t for everyone. Some find it depressing. Morose. Maybe even a little frightening, at times. It’s a matter of perspective, I suppose. It can be a peaceful place for some. And drive others absolutely mad.”
“You find it peaceful, then?”
“Sure. It’s sort of like ... sitting in a cemetery. Being surrounded by death can either make you feel incredibly vulnerable and alone, or it can make you grateful to be alive.”
Giulia’s is a personality that I can’t quite place in our first meeting. A part of me appreciates her perspective, as I’ve always had a sort of fondness for the macabre. A cracked dead rose. A spider web in morning light. Even a cemetery. Yet, I find her demeanor almost oddly un-genuine, unlike Nell’s. It’s as if she’s hiding something.
“I met Sampson, as well,” I tell her.
“Oh, he’s a big sweetie. Scary looking, but a sweetie.”
“Scary, for sure. He looks like he could devour a person in under a minute.”
“Minute and thirty, actually.”
“Excuse me?”
Her head kicks back on a quiet chuckle, and even that strikes me as somewhat fake. “I’m joking. I’ve only seen him go after the occasional trespasser. We get them more often than not. Folks who like to dig up dirt on the Blackthornes. It’s troublesome, the way people behave, sometimes.”
“I agree. My asking about Roark was merely curiosity. Nothing else.” My gaze falls to the shiny cross clasped around her neck.
“I didn’t think anything bad of it. I’ve just grown accustomed to not talking with anyone about it.”
“I’m sure you’ve had a lot of people pry. I promise I’m not one of them.”
“Good. Also, I should let you know that this place can get pretty unsettling at night, sometimes.” She reaches for her cross in what is perhaps a mindless gesture, drawing it back and forth along its delicate chain. “Think it’s the wind coming off the cliff, but it can sound like someone crying. Freaked me out, the first few nights.”
“Good to know.”
“Well, I’ll let you get settled. If you need anything, just holler.”
“Or I can just knock on the door.”
“I won’t answer if you do. Just holler. I’ll hear you through the vents.”
“O. Kay. I’ll do that.”
“Oh, and you may want to lock your door at night.”
Chapter 7
Lucian
Sixteen years ago …
My father comes home today. With Jude having left, on his way back to school, there’s nothing to keep me distracted from that thought. Blowing out an exasperated breath, I fix my gaze toward the tall ceiling in my bedroom. Adorned with gods of war, there isn’t an inch of it that isn’t painted with men in armor, clashing in blood and battle. Somehow, my parents thought staring up at it night after night would turn me into a complacent and obedient teenager.
Disaster with the fire extinguisher aside, homecomings with my father are never something I look forward to, but this one promises to be exceptionally bad, as I understand negotiations didn’t go as he’d hoped. Which means his shitty mood will permeate every corner of this castle before the night is over. I’ll get the brunt of it, as usual, but so will everyone else.
Perhaps even Solange.
At the flash of her tits, I screw my eyes shut and run a hand down my face. After spending the entire night battling the most horrific case of blue balls I’ve ever felt, I’ll now be forced to tamp down the raging hard-on she’s incited once again.
A knock at the door stiffens my muscles. Surely, my father hasn’t arrived home already.
I lift my head, waiting to see if he’ll slam through the door cursing my name, like the last time I got in trouble.
Another knock arrives, instead.
Likely not either of my parents, since my mom would’ve pushed her way in by now.
“Yeah?”
Instead of an answer, I get another knock at the door.
Groaning in frustration, I clamber out of bed, and with quick strides across the room, I throw the door open.
Solange stands outside my room. “Forgive my intrusion.” Her voice is like an intoxicating poison made for a slow death. “May I come in?”
After a quick glance around, I step aside, allowing her entry.
“I have to admit, of all the rooms I’ve seen, so far, this one is my favorite.” She points to the ceiling and smiles. “Nothing sexier than gods in battle.”
“What do you want?”
“You disappointed me the other night. I was a little … how you say … humiliated.”
“What’d you expect, after screwing my friend in front of me?”
“Did you like the taste of my pussy?”
Setting one hand on my hip, I rub my jaw with the other to keep from grabbing my straining dick in front of her. “Nothing I haven’t tasted before.”
Amusement flickers in her eyes as she licks her lips, and her gaze nosedives toward where my groin must look like I’m smuggling tennis balls. “I’ve got a secret, young master.” She, somehow, manages a slow and easy saunter back toward my bed, and runs her fingertips over the duvet as she comes to a stop alongside it. Eyes on mine, she kneels and reaches beneath the bed, a smile lifting the corner of her lips as she pulls something from beneath and rises to a stand. “What would your mother think of this?”
Frowning, I focus on what she holds up in front of me. Porn, based on the cover of the magazine that shows a couple fucking, but not just any porn. These two are clad in leather, and the woman is tied up. The expression on her face, twisted up in fear, makes it look like rape.
“That isn’t mine.”
“Sure, sure.”
“I’m serious. I’ve never seen that before.” Jesus Christ, if this is Jude’s little prank, he’s a dead man the next time I see him. My mom would have a heart attack if she got her hands on this.
On a slow saunter back toward me, Solange doesn’t lower the magazine from my sight. “The question is, do you like what you see?”