Leopold’s gray eyes flick over me, and he smiles. “You are quite a character, Miss Fischer.”
“Thanks, Leo. Please call me Raine.”
“I think you are going to be anything but rain.”
It’s a twist of my name I’ve heard my whole life, but somehow coming from him it’s not an insult. “I should really get going.”
“Upstairs with you. Get cleaned up.” He slides the curtain the rest of the way open. “Follow me.”
And I shouldn’t. I don’t want to work for someone who makes snap decisions. But when will I get to even glance at a collection in a castle again? In New York, I was barely working with art at all. I was a barista with a hobby as avolunteering art docent. This is the real deal. Or maybe it’s not the real deal. I’m not sure, but racing back to the airport without finding out first? That’s not saying yes to adventure. And if there’s one thing living with a bunch of flight attendants has taught me, it’s to always say yes to the trip. Because you never know, you might meet a hot grumpy asshole or a really odd, nice old man. Or you might find a lost da Vinci in a forgotten crate.
“Are you coming, Miss Fischer?”
“Yes, Leo, I am.” I recoil a bit. Because I’ve just given a man old enough to be my grandfather a nickname. It’s not my place to do it. He’s so formal, but there’s a gentleness about him that doesn’t feel like a Leopold. Leopolds start wars and hold court. Leos bring you soup and tell you everything’s going to be okay. That you didn’t just mess up the best job opportunity of your life while looking like a waterlogged raccoon.
A wooden banister carved with hundreds of different birds leads up the stone stairs. I’m a few feet behind Leo, mostly because I can’t stop taking everything in: the carvings, the massive stairs, how the stairs lead up, and the landing where there’s a small balcony with a view of the mosaic. It’s not visible from below—or maybe it is if you know it’s there. The wooden panels blend together, giving the illusion of the balcony blending into the ceiling.
“Cloud Rift is quite a building,” Leo says. I’m not sure if he’s being ironic as he stands in the middle of a red velvet carpeted hallway surrounded by carved wood and stone.
Building? More like castle, villa, palace... Buildings are ordinary, but this place is far from ordinary. I’m still trying to work out how the hexagon foyer lines up with the front of the building when I realize that Leo has stopped in themiddle of the hallway. “It really is. Have you been here long?”
“Yes, I imagine for you it would be a long time.” Leo smiles. “Come this way. There will be plenty of time for you to take everything in.”
I nod. Because I clearly heard myself being fired. But then, Leo’s the one who contacted me. He must have more pull than a mere butler—or house manager. That’s what they’re called now, right?
The red carpeted hallway goes on and on. I’ve lost count of the number of unevenly spaced doors.
He stops outside of one. “These are your quarters while you’re here at Cloud Rift.” He motions for me to open the door.
The lock on the door clicks under my thumb. And I gasp.
3
RAINE
Itake two steps in and turn back to Leo. “This is my room? I mean... I’m not a guest. I’m staff. Are you sure?” The room’s quite a contrast to the rest of the hallway. It’s bright; four sets of floor-to-ceiling windows are covered by gauzy curtains. A large bed with a light wood headboard rises all the way to the fourteen-foot ceiling. A crystal chandelier sparkles from a ray of sunlight poking through the clouds. “You must have taken— You’re sure?” I ask again.
“Very much.” He inclines his head and strolls across the room. “Here is your en suite bathroom. Those doors are the wardrobe and linen closet.”
I’m scurrying behind him. The bathroom is the same size as the living room and kitchen I shared with seven people in New York City. Granted, they were never all there at once. I shared the primary bedroom with Harper and Wren, while the other bedroom had two bunk beds squeezed into a space meant for one. Even after ninemonths in the city, there was one girl I’d only met a handful of times and another I’d never met at all. In college, I always had a roommate, and growing up, I shared a room with my sister.
If I post pictures of this bathroom, it will be on a million inspiration boards within an hour. A giant shower, marble and glass, blends remarkably well with a claw-foot tub.
Leo crosses the room, opening a cream panel that turns into a door. “Here is your upstairs office. I wouldn’t imagine you’ll be bringing any of the collection up here. But I suppose that’s up to you.”
“I...” It’s up to me. What the hell, why not? Dream bedroom. Dream job. I can put up with a cranky boss. Maybe he’s not even that cranky... It did appear I was hiding my drowned raccoon self. “That would be lovely, Leo. Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you to get cleaned up.” He gives me a bow and pulls the door shut.
I want to pinch myself. Instead, I pull my phone out to text Wren. But she’ll be going through customs. I decide to do it anyway, ignore a message from another roommate, and stop typing when Jeff, my ex’s name, pops up. He’s not my boyfriend. Oh, that’s not true. I thought he was my boyfriend. But then, he thinks he’s a lot of people’s boyfriend.
I should block him. I’m not going to be in the city for a long time. I even told him. There’s no reason for him to be messaging me, anyway.
I leave him unread and put my phone on the nightstand. I don’t know why I’m surprised to see a charging station next to the bed. This place is a mixture of history and luxury. I run my fingertips over the silk bedspread. It reminds me of an elite hotel. A few months back, Wren usedher rewards points to get us a room in a fancy hotel in Soho. We went out drinking and collapsed onto the bed, giggling. But the thing I loved the most was the signature scent. This room has the same thing, not overpowering like the perfume of an old lady in a doctor’s waiting room. Clean, breezy, like I want to snuggle into the bed and never get up kind of scent.
The loveliness of the room makes my wet, gross clothes and hair even worse. I head into the bathroom and drop them on the floor, but then I pick them up and drape them over the tub. Leo said there were toiletries in here, but there’s nothing in the shower. The linen closet, however, proves to be a jackpot of goods. Who would have thought to open a door and find supplies?
I open a bottle of French shampoo that smells divine. My arms are loaded down with soap and towels, and I place them on the counter, then glance around. For a room that appears guest-ready... why weren’t there towels on the towel rod? My lips shoot sideways. It’s something I do when I’m deep in thought. It’s mine—at least for now.
