I let out a slow breath, jaw clenching.
Mental note: make her see exactly what kind ofbestieI can be.
“She’s taunting you,” Kaden says, smirking.
“I know.” I drop into my chair and pull the keyboard toward me, and that’s when I see it. My mouse pad with an image of a fucking fairy riding a unicorn.
“I’m going to kill her,” I mutter.
Kaden loses it, full-on laughing, head thrown back, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Well, that would solve some problems,” he chokes out.
I rip the mouse pad off the desk and stand, looking around. That’s when I see the rest of it, the tiny fairy wings tucked into the books on the shelf behind Kaden; a fuzzy pink troll doll by the filing cabinet. Two scented candles flickering softly and a little ceramic fountain trickling smoke from burning incense.
She turned my office into a fucking fairy garden.
I throw the door open, my voice a snarl.
“Autumn!”
I storm into the hallway, steps like thunder, and I catch the sound of feet sprinting in the opposite direction on the top floor, far wing of the mansion.
A slow, wolfish grin spreads across my face.
Oh, trouble,you just declared war, and I dolovea good hunt.
Chapter Nineteen
Autumn
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
I’m running through this maze of a house, heart hammering so loud it drowns out my own breath.
“Autumn!”
His voice rolls through the halls like thunder, and a startled laugh slips out of me before panic swallows it. Maybe turning his office into a fairyland wasn’t the smartest idea after all.
Oh—
He hasn’t seen his bedroom yet.
A nervous giggle escapes as I sprint down the hallway toward the narrower staircase at the back. I’ve never been up here before. It feels forgotten, dust in the air, cold stone under my feet, shadows clinging to every corner. A long corridor stretches ahead, lined with closed doors.
I grab the handle on the fourth one and push inside.
Empty, except for a single rug and a chandelier that glitters faintly above me. Are those… diamonds?
The curtains are deep red velvet, the floor polished wood, the walls a dark slate gray broken by carved gothic columns. Beautiful. Sinister.Exactlythe kind of room a man like him would hide from the world.
I dart to the small dresser in the corner and crouch behind it, pressing a hand to my mouth to quiet the sound of my breathing. The air smells of dust and old cedar. Every creak in the hallway makes my pulse trip faster, then his voice, low, rough, and unhurried, slides through the doorway. “Trouble.”
It’s not a shout this time. It’s a promise, soft and dangerous.
The kind of voice that makes my blood freeze and my heartbeat quicken anyway.
I was bored. Pissed off. And honestly, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
