At the corridor’s end, I caught sight of yet another carved panel depicting nude figures in highly suggestive positions. It hit me then—those carvings were everywhere in this estate.
That should have been a clue.
By the time I reached Noir, my pulse was still racing. “Where’s Rosie?” I blurted, desperate to erase the last two minutes from existence.
Emily sat on the sofa, staring out the window at the unforgiving snowstorm. “She just left to help the cook in the kitchen. She’s such a curious child, always eager to learn.” She frowned. “What’s the matter? You look as pale as a ghost.”
I flopped down next to her. “Oh, God, Emily. I just found Count Montego in his study, screwing one of his maids!”
Emily gasped. “You’re kidding!”
“I wish I were. I’ll never unsee what I saw. I mean, I knew he had sex sometimes—he was at Costa’s sex party—but knowing it and seeing it are two separate things.” I fisted my eyes as if that could erase the memory.
“He’s a good-looking man,” Emily said.
I met her gaze.
“But he’s so old,” we both said simultaneously.
“They both seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely.”
Emily made a face.
Heavy footsteps approached, and I turned just in time to see Count Montego stride into the room, now immaculately dressed once more, as if nothing had happened.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia. I should have locked the door,” he apologized, settling into the armchair across from us.
I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, no! I shouldn’t have barged in. It’s all my fault. Let’s… forget this ever happened.”
Please,let’s move on.
His hands clasped together as he leaned slightly forward. “Entirely my fault, Olivia. It shan’t happen again.”
His smile, however, lacked any real remorse.
I exhaled. “Fine. Apology accepted.”
He studied me, amused, as if enjoying my discomfort, but I refused to satisfy him.
I straightened. “I am concerned about the three men out there somewhere—our two husbands and Malik.”
Emily nodded, worry creasing her brow. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about them too.”
Montego stroked his jaw with those long, elegant fingers, his expression thoughtful.
I tried very hard not to picture where those hands had just been.
“Are you?” I asked pointedly. “Because I am going mad sitting here, doing nothing. Do you have any ideas on what we can do?”
Montego’s gaze flicked to me, then to Emily, before drifting lazily toward the ceiling. “I do understand, dear Olivia. You are an adventurous sort.” His tone was warm and practiced. “But surely you realize the merits of staying indoors? Of keeping yourself—and the baby—safe?”
He spoke with the authority of someone who was used to being obeyed.
He had an air of timelessness about him, his features too perfectly sculpted, too refined. Everything about him exuded noble bearing, yet I knew nothing of his lineage. Who was his family? Where did they come from? Though smooth and cultured, his accent couldn’t be pinned to a single country.
Before I could dwell on it further, he interrupted my thoughts with a casual shrug. “I’m certain it all comes down to the weather. Travel is difficult with a heavy load. I’m sure they’re safe.”
His reassurances felt too easy.
