Double fuck.
My mind spun, and I struggled to push out any coherent thought other than the mountain of trouble I’d brought down on my own head. When Madame Usher informed me the Master wished to offer a place to Faye de Winter, I told myself it didn’t matter. I stopped caring about Faye a long time ago. I’d be able to do what I had to do to keep my place at Manderley.
I lied to Madame.
I lied to myself.
Next to me, Faye hunched over her plate, her skin deliciously close. She stared at her salad like it held the mysteries of the universe. The wine stained her lips with a hint of red, like the blush of an intense kiss.
My skin crawled with her scent. Lavender and orange blossom – a distinctive perfume. The scent of my childhood. Of another time, when I’d been happy, free, not trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
I’d steeled myself for seeing Faye again, but the minute she appeared in my doorway it all went to shit. I pulled that stunt in the bedroom to throw her off, to show her right from our first meeting that she wasnothingto me, but that was a lie, too. I’d known it as soon as I slammed the door and my dick sprang to life in my hands.
Then she waltzed into the dining room with that defiance blazing in her eyes, her clothes all torn and filthy and exuding ‘don’t fuck with me’ from every pore. She wore her half-Mexican heritage with pride – that tumble of black curls down her back and that slightly broad nose turned up, likeshewas too good forus, instead of the other way around.
My Faye. My Sprite.
The sooner she was gone from Manderley, the better.
Heather let her gaze fall to Faye’s glass, then turned to glare at me, the question obvious on her face. I kicked her foot under the table. Heather could fuck right off if she expected me to explain myself to her. My little fork stunt wasn’t part of the plan, but it worked. Too well. I gritted my teeth as I remembered Faye’s tiny gasp, a chink in that armor she wore, a hint that the fire scalding my skin was also burning her up inside.
I intended to disarm Faye, to wipe that defiance off her face, but her scent… it sent my head spinning, in a good way what was so fucking bad. My dick was hard again.
Get control, Dorien. This isn’t about you.
I tried to focus on the discussion, anything to take my mind off Faye. I noticed Titus had that sparkle he got in his eyes when someone new walked into his life. He always wanted everyone in the room to love him, and they usually did. I hope his desire to be needed wouldn’t fuck up our plan.
Master Radcliffe had turned his attention to Elena and the piece for the upcoming recital. While Elena discussed the merits of the different song choices in her breathless voice, I caught her brother’s gaze. Ivan sat ramrod straight, and the venom in his eyes could have poisoned us all.
Of all of us, Ivan had the most to lose to Faye, and that was saying something. I’d seen that look in his eyes before. Once on our last tour, we’d been delayed at the airport in France for sixteen hours, and the airline could only get us to Canada in time for our show if Elena took a later flight. Ivan letcertain facts be knownwith his typical Romanian sledgehammer personality, and ten minutes later all four of us had seats in first class.
I cut in with my opinion, trying to insert myself between Elena and Radcliffe, to lead the conversation somewhere that made Ivan less stabby. I kicked Heather again, and she finally took the hint and stopped glaring at Faye long enough to contribute.
I jabbed the lamb on my plate, chewing hard. It looked amazing, but all I could taste was cardboard. Cardboard flavored with lavender and orange-blossom. Unable to help myself, I reached across the table for the pepper and snuck a look at Faye. She sipped her wine again, her hair curtaining her face – a wall of protection against the world, against me.
I hated myself for what I was about to do, but I hatedhermore.
Ten years ago, I told Faye de Winter I never wanted to see her again. Now, she tore through my life like a fucking hurricane. If I didn’t strike first, she’d destroy everything. That scent already dragged me under. Those fire-rimmed eyes would burn down everything I’d worked for. She’d ruin me.
I had to ruin her first.
Chapter Eight
Faye
You don’t belong here, Faye. And we’re going to make sure you know it.
Dorien’s chilling words haunted me all afternoon as my nausea grew worse, mingling with Harrison’s warnings and visions of the last maid sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. My stomach churned as I stacked the dishwasher, and I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see Dorien or one of the other students sneaking up behind me, brandishing a knife.
By the time I finished in the kitchen, the house sang with faint, stolen notes of perfection as the students practiced. I hiked back to my room to change into a pair of black dress pants and grab my violin. During the day, the attic had heated to an unbearable temperature – a combo of pre-Victorian construction and heat rising through the house. I cracked the window and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, but it did nothing to stop my churning stomach or the flush of sickly heat pooling in my cheeks – heat that had nothing to do with the warm attic and everything to do with those three unnervingly beautiful guys who already seemed to hate me for no reason.
I was heading back downstairs to find a spare practice space when Master Radcliffe stepped out of the music library.
“Faye, I wondered if you might accompany me to the ballroom,” he said. “I’d like to hear you play, so we can get a sense of where you are. It’s not often I teach students with your… unorthodox training.”
He meant mylackof training, but he was polite enough not to say it. So far, the Master was the only person in this freak show haunted house who treated me like a human being. But I still found him intimidating – he’d been a superstar a decade ago, but he’d given it all up abruptly to teach at Manderley. There were rumors of a mental breakdown because of the pressure of his career, and of a scandal hushed up, but his warm brown eyes peering at me from behind bifocal glasses betrayed only kindness, and I needed some of that right now.
“Sure. I’d love to play for you.”
