It doesn’t find my phone in the dining room. I hover near the office and push the button, but there’s nothing, no beeping. I twist my face, pursing my lips, and head slowly back upstairs. I slow at each door, pushing the button again. Nothing on the first one... Where the heck is my phone?
14
ROARK
There’s that damn dinging again. I’ve come to my senses enough to know that it’s the candidate’s phone. I pick it up from my nightstand. Jeff is not amused. I, however, am thrilled. The dozen texts that come through shift from narcissistic rage that he’s been replaced to almost concern for her safety.
Babe, who is that?
He’s not me. You need me.
Babe, text me back. You’re not going to live there forever. He’s using you.
Babe.
Babe.
Babe, are you okay?
Is he in a biker gang?
Another message pops up. Wren,her sister, the one whose birthday she uses as the code to her phone. Wren’s profile picture is a selfie with Raine and her, and it pops up when she texts. Her hair’s lighter than Raine’s, but theirnoses are the same. I suppose she’s attractive but not as much as Raine.
Wren: What the hell is going on, Rai? Jerk-off Jeff keeps texting me. Also, I’m going to kill you for giving him my number. He says you sent him a picture of some guy and you were asleep on his chest. I told Jeff that didn’t sound like you, and he sent me the picture. Holy hell, Rai! Good move dumping Jerky Jeff. New guy is hot as fuck, too. I want to see his face. And those tats. Mom would have a heart attack. Makes it even better.
Wren: Rai? Seriously though. Jeff’s an ass, but he was a little nervous that you’ve been kidnapped and sold. Can you send me proof of life?
I find siblings so interesting. My brother’s gone. But I can see it now. Their smiles in the profile picture on Raine’s phone are the same too.
Fuck. It’s almost seven. I’m not sure when I last slept for eleven hours. I need to find Raine. She’s not our mate, but we don’t need her family sending in the Pontifical Swiss Guard. The feathers on their hats make my dragon salivate.
An alert goes off. It’s not an incoming message but rather the “find your phone” feature. It goes off again, and my door opens... at the same time that Wren sends another message.
Wren: I’m getting worried. Did you lose your phone again?
Raine is silhouetted by the light in the corridor. “You.”
“You,” I say back and snap a picture, sending it to hersister before turning her phone off. “Wren is worried about you. And you broke up with Jeff.”
“I broke up with Jeff three months ago when he slept with my coworker.” She holds her hand out. I place it on her soft, pale palm. “Why do you have my phone?” She slides it into her pocket.
“Jerky Jeff kept messaging you while I was eating my breakfast. It was annoying, and as head of security, I have the right to check the phones and social media of every staff person in the castle.” I’m ready to defend what I said. It was in her acceptance paperwork. And that’s not a candidate-only item. There are things we have to protect.
“I read that.”
“Good, I’m glad you’re prepared.” There’s no way she’s prepared for us. “Did you have a good day?”
“Other than passing out in the pantry this morning, it’s been one of the most amazing days of my entire life. I’ve held provenance papers that trace works through centuries and examined the delicate restoration techniques used on pieces that survived fires and floods. I’ve sorted through amazing Impressionist masters—Mary Cassatt, Cézanne, Renoir. Modern masterpieces by Georgia O’Keeffe and Jackson Pollock. And the art from the Renaissance? There’s enough here to fill three museums. Botticelli, Titian, Michelangelo—things I’ve only seen from four feet away in museums in New York, Boston, and Pittsburgh. Some artists I’ve only ever seen in books. My mind is floating, and I’m overwhelmed. I can’t imagine how any day could get better than today.”
There’s a wee bit of something that might be guilt squeezing at me. She’s not going to like it when she reads her messages. “Well, I’m glad you had a good day.”
“Thank you. But I’m also wondering about how I got back to my room.”
“I carried you.”
“Oh.” Her hand pops up onto her hip. And I want to dive into her brain and find out what she’s thinking. I’m expecting follow-up questions, but she turns and steps toward the door. Holding on to the frame, she stops. “I’m thinking I might go into town after dinner.”
She just got here. “I see. I can see about having Percy drive you.”
