I cringe, “Yes well,” I wave a hand, “That was then, and this is now.”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously, “He works a lot.” Is all she gives me.
Work? Pfft, that isn’t work. That’s preying on the helpless.
“And when he is here?”
“He rides the horses. Works out. That’s it.”
I know she’s bullshitting me.
“Is there a gym here?”
She nods.
“Where?”
“Mrs. Farrow, if you’d please let me get on with my work.” She dismisses me, her chunky heels stomping on the floor as she runs away from me.
Fine. Before I go in search of someone else more willing to cooperate with me, I wander toward those towering shelves. So many books, there’s some ancient ones on the shelves, with leather spines and crackled gold lettering, newer works and biographies. It’s a book worms dream. I let my hands trail over the works, admiring the array of colors on display. It’s the main feature in this room, not the grand fireplace dominating the other wall, or the several plush sofas or the expensive sculptures.
Deciding I’ll revisit and select a few books to read since I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time on my hands, Igo in search of someone else.
And find no one.
This whole house is filled with staff, they’re always around and yet I can’t find a single one. Miranda probably told them all to avoid me though I have no idea why they’d want to keep the information from me.
It’s the first day I’ve been truly alone here.
Pulling out my cell, I dial Willow’s number and she answers on the first ring.
“Bitch!” She hollers down the phone, “What the fuck happened!?”
“What?” I frown.
“You disappeared and then Malakai had everyone leave. He cleared the whole place out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After that hoe bag threw her wine on you,” she says by explanation.
Oh. That.
“I passed out.” I admit.
“You passed out,” She repeats, “Malakai was pissed, Oli. Like scary mad.”
“Just showing you the real him,” I shrug even though I’m wondering if that’s even true. Which version of Malakai is the real one?
Shaking my head to myself, I wander upstairs to the bedroom. It’s been cleaned since this morning, new sheets fitted, the hamper emptied, and the bathroom tidied like no one has even stayed in here.
It’s nothing like my apartment. Sure, I had the penthouse, and I loved it, the space, the view but it was lived in. I had dirty glasses in the sink and laundry in the basket. There was dust on shelves and limp looking plants on the sides. It was a home but this, this just seems like a show room. You can look but don’t touch.
Shaking my head, I take a seat on the end of the bed before I flop down onto my back, looking up at the white ceiling.
“I don’t know,” She answers my previous statement, “He doesn’t seemthatbad.”
I roll my eyes though she can’t see me, “I woke up next to him this morning.”
