“Something is going on in this house. And my bet is it has something to do with that Carl Becker violin you picked up. We’re going to figure this out. We will deal with Madame Usher,” Dorien vowed. “She expects us to follow her like little lambs to the slaughterhouse. She has secrets of her own, and we’ll bury her with them. But if we have any hope of figuring out what’s going on at Manderley, then Madame Usher needs to believe things are normal. That means, we hate each other and we’re trying to force you to quit. Plus, it might be the best way to contend with Heather.”
“Heather?”
“Turns out I did my job a little too well.” Dorien leaned forward and tasted my lips with his tongue. “She hates you with the fire of a thousand suns – the trailer trash who’s captured Master Radcliffe’s attention and my heart. Heather’s got some nasty plans for you.”
“Plans she intended to carry out with her future fiancé, before he dumped her,” Ivan added.
“I didn’t dump her,” Dorien shot back. “It’s impossible to dump someone when you were only together in their imagination.”
“Am I in danger?” I whispered.
“Heather will be the one in danger if she touches you.” Dorien tipped my chin up with his finger. His ragged breath sent heat coursing through my veins. “What do you say, Sprite? Let us pretend to hate you in front of Usher, and we’ll keep blowing your mind in private. You’re stronger than anyone I know. You can handle a few harsh words and stupid pranks.”
“Mmmm.” His lips met mine, and I lost myself in the kiss. Ivan’s hands crept over my naked skin, his mouth trailing featherlight kisses along my neck, raising the hairs on my skin. I sank back onto the bed as the two of them pressed themselves against me, lips and hands roaming freely, exploring every hidden place inside me.
Through the haze of hungover orgasm, my mind whirred with everything Dorien and Ivan told me. Was Madame Usher really going to such lengths to get rid of me?
And, most importantly, have I seriously just agreed to let the Muses continue to torture me?
Chapter Forty-Eight
Faye
By the time the others returned, I’d managed to kick the guys out of my room, put on my black dress, and guzzle a million gallons of coffee. Dorien and Ivan (who both barely seemed to feel the effects of last night’s whisky, the dickweasels) helped me clean the mess we made in the ballroom, then disappeared to get some practice in while I continued with my chores. I was struggling my way through polishing the banister on the grand staircase and trying not to think about Clare’s body lying at the bottom when Elena, Heather, and Aroha burst through the door, all smiles and laughter. At the back of the group, Titus looked up at me, his dark eyes burning with questions.
Dorien’s words echoed in my head.He’s been wanting to ask you out since the start of the year. He didn’t make a move because he thought I laid claim to you.
Titus’ lips turned up in a smile that twinkled with promise. I dropped to my knees, pretending to polish between the railings when really my legs wouldn’t support my weight anymore.
Madame Usher bustled in last, frowning as she saw me on the stairs. “Have you prepared lunch for us?”
“Not yet. I wasn’t certain what time you’d return—”
She huffed. “Hurry and set it out.”
I dashed back to the kitchen and nearly threw up in the sink. I managed to pull myself together and find a selection of cold cuts and leftovers to lay out. All through the meal, I kept sneaking glances at the Muses. True to their word, they continued to ignore me. Dorien even whispered ‘wide load’ under his breath as I took my seat, and Heather giggled. The comment stung until I caught the storm in his eyes – part regret, part promise of how he’d make things up to me when we were alone. I was surprised the electricity crackling between us didn’t set the table linen on fire.
After lunch, I took my violin to the Red Room to practice. Just as I played the final movement of my version of “Confessions of an Opium Eater,” Elena slipped into the room. She took a seat in the darkest corner, pulling her legs to her chest and hiding behind a curtain of hair. I was practicing the Paganini again, and I had to keep going over the same tricky passage to make my fingers bend in an impossible way. It had to be tedious to watch and yet, she stayed almost to the end, slipping out just before I’d finished.
Weird.
I climbed the stairs two at a time, my stomach wrapped up in knots, hoping to pass one of the guys on the landing and yet dreading the encounter. Already it felt as though last night had been a dream. Had Dorien and Ivan really said all those things to me, about protecting me? About me being a ‘Muse girl’? Or was this just some elaborate ruse so they could keep playing games with me?
I didn’t meet anyone on the stairs. I dropped my violin in my room and lay down on my bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling and trying to slip into sleep. My ruined mind and pounding temples refused to cooperate.
I glanced at my watch. Time to head back downstairs to start dinner. I popped a couple of ibuprofen, ran a brush through my tangled hair, and splashed cold water on my face.Hangovers suck. The last thing I wanted to do was face cooking right now.
As I trudged back down the servants’ staircase, a familiar song wafted through the house – another Broken Muse favorite, called ‘Graveyard Shift.’The guys must be practicing in the Red Room.I paused, resting my back against the wall, letting that dark, seductive music fill me.
No matter what happened next, I would always have my memories of last night. Nothing could take that away from me.
I hummed the melody under my breath as I went straight to the pantry. I opened the chest freezer to inspect my options. Maybe a fried chicken salad? Or I could use that New Zealand lamb leg and—
Hands wrapped around me, pinning my arms around my back. I cried out, trying to twist my head to see who it was. The cool steel of a knife pressed against my throat.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Faye
