“Have you met Mason’s girlfriend?”
My lips freeze on the glass. This is the first time someone’s called me that. Luna makes her way over to me, sniffing around me, then greeting me with slightly cleaner paws. I stroke her fur and let her drop wet kisses on my hand.
“She is beautiful,” I coo. “Mason didn’t tell me you had a dog.”
“He hates dogs.” Alessia shrugs, draining her glass.
My hand freezes on Luna’s head as I stare at Alessia, my jaw on the floor. She bursts into laughter. “Dante, get my phone. I need to get a picture of her face.”
I fix my expression, but I’m still baffled. “How does someonehatedogs?”
A man dressed in casual clothes hurries toward us and hands Alessia her phone.
“I wasjoking.” She sighs.“Are they done yet?” she asks, waving toward the double doors. “Tell them lunch is at one. And I am giving it to my horses at quarter past.”
Dante chuckles but heads back in, passing the kitchen when the oven beeps. “Want me to get it, Alessia?”
“No,” Alessia barks, instantly on her feet. “He slaughtered it last time,” she mutters to me. “Will you be ok for a bit,mia cara?” I nod. She points at my glass. “Drink. And don’t let Luna go inside. Reg will have my head if she gets in his office.”
I taste more of the wine, inhaling the sweet mix of florals around me, admiring Alessia’s beautiful gardens, and making friends with the furry Grant.
“How dare he hate you, huh?” I ask. “You are adorable.” Ikiss Luna on her face as we hear Alessia banging pans and cursing in Italian in the kitchen.
The next loud bang makes her jump out of my arms and run inside.
Damn it. Of course. Leave the easiest task to the most useless guest.
“Luna,” I whisper-shout, following her in. She turns in the hallway and heads toward a balcony.
“Hey!” I grab her. “Don’t get me in trouble, miss.”
She gives herself a mighty shake, then starts sniffing the plants, refusing any attempt from me to lure her back. Defeated, I guard the French doors, ready to catch her if she launches herself at the double doors, which I assume from the heavy chatter is Reginald’s office. Who would want to go into that room with all that testosterone, anyway? Though I do hear some feminine voices, too.
While Luna curls up on the balcony chair, I linger in the hallway, gazing at the exquisite paintings, drinking in the vibrant colors, until I find a landmine of family photographs on the adjoining wall.
Mason was a cute child, no surprise there. Alessia, of course, hasn’t aged a day, but Reginald looks much younger in early photos and terrifyingly similar to Mason. I shake myself internally as I slowly make my way down the series. There are not just Grant photos; many are of friends and Council families. The Morellis, Pikes, and Berkeleys. I come to a dead stop in front of a particularly daunting photo of a family of three wearing deep frowns. Robert Berkeley, with his prominent scar, who I still don’t remember where I’ve seen before, an auburn-haired beautiful woman, and the tall dark-haired boy who can only be Kane.
My eyes trace the photo, feature by feature, trying to decipher what I find so incredibly disturbing that it makes me sick to my stomach, yet I can’t look away. They don’t exactly looklike a happy family, but there’s more. It’s like when I saw Mr. Berkeley at his lodge. That icy chill that wraps around my spine slowly works its way to my bones.
What is it?
Multiple footsteps approach the double wooden doors, yanking me out of my trance. I quickly grab my phone and snap the Berkeley family photo. Still not sure why. The last thing I want on my phone is Kane Berkeley. But I can always delete it later. Or let Mason find it if Kane pisses me off today. That should earn him some grief.
A furry tail brushes my leg when the door clicks open. I crouch to stroke Luna and keep my head down as people pour out, heading straight for the orangery, bypassing me. Until a pair of large shoes appears in front of me.
“The fuck are you doing here, you little bitch,” Mason growls.
Did he just call me…?
“Get off my girl.” He gestures in a wave.
He’s talking to Luna. And that makes me madder.
I hold Luna’s head to my chest, shielding her from Mason. “No, she stays.”
“Are you covering her ears?” Mason snorts, his eyes narrowing at Luna and me. “For fuck’s sake. Tell me you’re not a dog person.”
“I’m as much a dog person as a person gets,” I snap. “And just so we are clear, if you hate them, it’s a dealbreaker.”
