The sound of footsteps echoing in the hall has me adjusting my posture and features to appear less bored than I actually am. I peer expectantly at the door, attempting not to slouch when I see Gretta walk into the dining room holding a tray of food.
Is that for Preston?
When Arden enters, my spine aligns unnaturally, despite the disappointment that curls through me. His presence holds the power to command anything in his vicinity. Tonight, I’m that thing.
“Oh, hi Kate,” he says with a hint of surprise.
“Hi—” I’m still not sure how to address him. “Mr. Lachlan,” I try with the confidence of a flea.
I feel like one when he’s in the room.
Gretta places his food at the head of the sixteen-person dining room table, pulling out his chair for him. By the way she veered directly to that spot, I’m assuming he always sits there.
“Thank you, Gretta.” His appreciation for her is sweet.
Sometimes it's flustering to know he’s the head of an organized crime group because you wouldn’t think that otherwise. On the streets, in that suit, I would’ve pegged him for a real estate agent. Or a sexy professor who teaches an entrepreneurship class. Just like the front he puts on for the people of Lachlan Harbor to conceal his illegal activities, he personally has one, too.
If Preston is that unhinged behind closed doors, what is Arden like?
Gretta strolls out of the room, leaving us, while Arden peers at the bowl of stew on his plate, accompanied by a slice of freshly baked bread. The head of the table is a few chairs down from mine, but I watch in fascination as he picks it up and approaches me, pulling out the seat next to mine. As he settles down, I try not to notice the way the tendons in his strong hands move as he places and folds his napkin across his lap.
When I’m pulled back to the moment, I look up, seeing him peering at me inquisitively. “And you can call me, Arden, Kate.”
A faint, uneasy smile pulls at my mouth. Did he catch me looking at his hands? What can I say, they are nice.
I fumble the words. “Yes, sir.” A few heartbeats pass before I interrupt the silence stretching between us. “Is Preston going to join us?” I ask a little too eagerly.
He picks up his spoon, digging around in his stew. “I’m afraid not. He has some business to deal with in the park tonight.”
Business.
Lachlan Park or Megalley Syndicate business?
I try and fail miserably to hide my disappointment. “Well, thanks for keeping me company.”
He places a piece of beef in his mouth, chewing slowly. I do the same with a potato.
“I take it that you’ve been settling down nicely and everything is going well at the medical center? Imogen is a very talented woman. She has saved my life more times than I can count.”
“I love it, and she is,” I agree, in a rush. “And yes, to the settling in. Thank you so much for letting me invade your space.”
Arden waves a hand before hitting me with those whiskey eyes. “How’s searching for a place coming along? Preston told me that you had just moved here when you got hired, which is why you are staying on the estate.”
My stomach sinks. We never talked about that.
It takes a second, but I remind myself that this was our ruse before everything started feeling all too real. I don’t know what facts Arden knows about me, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand much about my past or what brought me here. From what Preston has said about Arden’s power, it’s better that way.
Preston may not completely trust me yet, but he knows I’m not involved with whatever is going on out there that I’m still oblivious to.
I still don’t fully understand why he brought me to the estate—I’ve almost asked more times than I can count. What I do know is that he gave me a death threat unless I came with him for a month so he could validate my honesty about being in the wrong places at the wrong times. In that same first week, he thought I was working with whoever was responsible for the attack that happened in Virginia, and I assume for what happened to his mother and sister. Not even Imogen or the other staff will tell me why that is or what’s going on. Believe me, I’ve asked. They saythere are too many ears listening, and it's not their place to clue me in.
“I’ve been looking.” Shit. Why are my hands so clammy?
My breath is strained as it comes from my lungs. Somehow, He’s sucking the oxygen out of the room to make space for his intimidating energy.
He nods slowly.
Picking up the knife from the butter dish Gretta had given me, he glides some over his bread. My focus is drawn to his movements. “I’ve been meaning to mention, did Preston have you sign the contract and complete your paperwork in your first week?”
