I throw the car in drive and pull away from Grimshaw. Her eyes stay focused out the window. Frozen, fractured crystals cling to the window. The ride is silent, and that works in my favor. Not sure I can control myself much longer.
I can tell we’re close when the salty ocean breeze flows through the air. Salt dissolves on my tongue, reminding me of that night I snuck into her bedroom. The estate comes into view. The iron gates open, welcoming my chaos within.
Her soft voice cuts through the noise of the idling engine. “Most of the staff is on early holiday. I hope that’s okay. It’ll be just us. Normally Dante likes to pick me up, but when I told him I had a ride, he decided to take a few days off for himself. As far as the rest of the staff, they are with their families until the new year, aside from the cook and a single maid.”
A predatory smirk crosses over my lips.It’s more than fine, songbird. Perfect in fact. Less witnesses. “No issue,” I say simply.
She flashes me that distracting smile, and I grind my teeth to get shit under control.
“Go ahead, I’ll be behind you,” I urge her from the car. Still got a few things to do.
She gives me an inscrutable look but obeys.
I wait for her to reach the cascading weathered stone steps before I grab a few things from my glove box. I fish out a small needle and a littleglass vial after scanning the windows to ensure no one is lurking in the shadows. A loose piece of hair falls from my slick-backed do. I plunge the needle in the vial and pull the stopper back. My finger flicks the needle a few times, ensuring it’s full. I cap it and pocket it.
Showtime.
The car door slams behind me. Zain takes the steps two at a time to catch up. His tall, dark presence threatens to pull me under again. He’s beguiling and alluring in his sable suit. I’ve fallen deep into his labyrinth of darkness. He’s malignantly handsome, like a cancer. He’s drawn me in, suffocating my soul, but I keep coming back for more, letting him take and take. At what point will I have nothing left to give?
He stops beside me. His gray eyes peering into my soul, breaking the spell. “Vesper?”
I purse my lips and shake my head. “Sorry,” I mutter.
I rap the iron knocker, and it echoes off the stone walls. The door creaks open and Suzanne stands before us with a wide-eyed smile. She wipes her hands on her stained apron and pulls me into a hug.
“Miss Santi, you look stunning! Your father is in the study. I’ll ring him.” She steps out of the way, letting us inside the roomy foyer.
“Come, come!” her soft honeyed voice purrs as she motions us inside. Her eyes connect with Zain, and I see the exact moment her smile falters. He looms next to me like a guard dog. A tall, menacing guard dog.
“Sir.” She curtsies before stepping away with urgency.
He says nothing, then I notice where his gaze has gone. My family photo. The one that takes up the entire wall space in the foyer. His eye twitches. His body remains stiff, as if that picture personally offends him.
“Zain?” I clasp his shoulder, then instantly pull back as he recoils.
He blinks slowly and turns his head towards me. “You stole everything from me.” His voice sounds detached and vitreous. His eyes for once, carry a hint of sadness.
“What?” I whisper, brow furrowing. I take a step away cautiously. I can’t let him have an episode here, not with my father present. He thinks I don’t notice when he disassociates. When his insides eat him alive.
“What do you mean? I returned your switchblade, Zain. I would never…” Confused, I stop myself.
His eyes fill with something unexpected. Pain. Regret. He’s grappling internally, and it’s seeping out in a wave of emotion. Something I wasn’t sure he was capable of.
“A life for a life, songbird,” he says lithically.
Before I can ask for clarification or get inside his head, my father’s footsteps slap against the floor, growing louder with each passing second. He rounds the corner and stops in his tracks when he sees Zain glued to my side. His face pales to a stark white.
“Father?” I approach him cautiously.
“You—” He’s cut off by Zain lunging at him, a syringe gripped in his fist. In the blink of an eye, he overpowers my father.
A strangled gasp leaves my throat. I inch back, pressing against the wallpapered wall. My father grabs Zain’s wrist and twists. Zain yowls but doesn’t relent.
“Zain!” I shout, doubling over, powerless. I’m thrown into a muddled haze.
They scuffle until both men slam against the entryway table, knocking over a lamp. It crashes to the floor where it shatters, porcelain shards littering the marble floor. Veins bulge in Zain’s arm with each forceful push.
“Zain! Stop!” I shout louder. I cower helplessly in the corner, paralyzed in disbelief. I should do something,anything.
