Tonight.
Oh god… tonight.
I twisted the rear-view mirror towards myself. Well, the makeup wasn’t much, but at least my eyes weren’t puffy anymore.
“You got this, Harper,” I whispered. “Be a man-eater. Be a femme fatale like in those spy movies. Be—at the very least—hydrated.”
Send me the address. I’ll head over now.
So,thiswas what old money looked like.
The driveway alone was longer than my last apartment lease. I wound my way up; past towering trees and neat hedges trimmed into copy-paste squares.
And then I saw it.
Not a house.
A fucking fortress.
Black stone, sharp peaks like a Gothic castle ripped out of Time Piece Magazine, and a heavy arched doorway that looked like it needed a battering ram to open.
I parked in the circle drive, already feeling like I was committing a crime just breathing here.
This was happening.
This was real.
And I was either about to have the best night of my life…or get turned into a cautionary tale.
I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel hard enough for my knuckles to turn white, releasing a steadying breath.
Easing my grip, I opened the door, stepping out onto the cobblestone driveway. Step after step, I walked up to the door.
“Now or never,” I mumbled as I wrap my hand around the gold ring that was held in the golden lion’s head doorknocker.
I gave it three steady slams against the wood, the sound echoing through his front yard.
My phone pinged.
Glancing down, I looked at the message.
Come in. My staff are gone for the night. There’s a seating area straight ahead. Wait there.
Alright, so maybe I would be a cautionary tale.
I twisted the knob, pushing the door open with a loud creaking sound.
As I walked in past a winding staircase, my heels clicking on his marble floors, my jaw dropped. The inside of thiscastlemade the outside look like a warm-up act. Tall ceilings. Dark forest greens and gold that whispered old magic and even older secrets.
“Okay then,” I said under my breath.
Walking down the hall, I couldn’t help but stare at all the golden-framed portraits that decorated the walls.
Women with large horns and a range of silver skin shaking hands with prime ministers, congressmen, and even a few celebrities I’ve had crushes on over the years. The deeper I went, the more intimate the photos became—family shots, sports trophies, baby demons with glittery horn ribbons.
I stopped in place as my eyes widened.
“Oh… oh no. Oh no, no, no,” my voice came out panicked. As I started for the door, steps began to descend the stairs.
