“We do. I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”
Obsidian guided her down the hallway with his hand resting on the small of her back. They emerged through what passed as the mouth of the rest of the house.
The space opened up completely. Probably seventy or eighty feet wide, ceilings at least three stories high, more paved stone walls, rich hardwood floors, decorative beams overhead. The second floor above was ringed with the same wrought iron balusters as the front staircase, the space brightly lit, though there wasn’t a single window.
An enormous stone fireplace was the centerpiece of the main floor, rising high above and dividing the large living area and the kitchen on the other side. The furniture in here had a Tuscan vibe. Rich, dark wood chairs with rolled arms and cabriole legs embraced the scrolling acanthus leaf details on the beige cushions. Two matching sofas sat atop a rich blue rug that popped against the light fabric on the furniture. It felt more like a lobby than a living room. The kind where you’d expect to see men wearing suits smoking cigars and drinking bourbon.
On the perimeter of the space, more rooms fanned out from the center, all dark.
“I’m assuming Jeffrey’s not the only person who works here?” Penelope asked as they continued toward the kitchen.
“No. There’re roughly a dozenheurosp.”
“And the translation?”
“I think the politically correct term is household employees,” he said with a chuckle.
Penelope stopped when she’d passed the fireplace, her eyes widening as she took it all in. There was a massive square island, at least eight feet in both directions, that sat with honor in the middle of the space. Barstools lined gray cabinets on two sides, a deep sink the only disruption in the large slab of white granite with its delicate wisps of gray tying in the colors. On the outer walls, the color scheme was flipped. White cabinets with gray granite tops formed long rows beneath open shelving and more cabinets. Four ovens, an eight-burner stovetop and two microwaves were on the left side, and on the right an industrial-sized refrigerator and freezer.
“That’s a … a lot of appliances.”
“It takes a lot to feed the masses,” he replied, taking her hand once more.
“How many live here?”
“The mansion was built to house us all. Roughly sixty, including the Fae. Then you add in theheurosps.”
Her attention shot to Obsidian. “Seventy plus people? Under one roof?”
“I assure you, it’s big enough.”
Whether by intention or simply chance, the entire house appeared to be vacant. Aside from Jeffrey, Penelope didn’t encounter another person during the brief tour. On a positive note, thoseheurospshad earned their paycheck because the countertops were waxed to a shine, the stainless-steel gleaming in the decorative pendant lights overhead.
They kept going, passing an enormous dining room off to the right, occupied by a long, wide wooden table to seat two dozen, the stucco walls decorated with dark-trimmed pictures and a couple of sconces that likely dated back to the Middle Ages. The ceiling was lower in there, three wrought iron chandeliers similar in design to the other light fixtures hanging over the table.
“Do you have meals in there?”
“That’s the breakfast nook,” Obsidian stated. “The formal dining room holds everyone comfortably.”
Breakfast nook. For two dozen.
Wow.
Without elaborating further, Obsidian tugged her toward a short set of steps that led up into an enormous sunroom that concluded the main-floor entertainment area.
“We spend a lot of time in here,” he informed her, stepping up behind her as she scanned the space.
This room was far more relaxed than the rest she’d seen, even wider than the kitchen space. Though the decor continued with the Mediterranean theme, it felt homier. A nice place to relax and chill. Big enough for several small seating areas, as well as six full-sized sofas, three on each side of the fireplace shaped into U’s to allow people to congregate comfortably. Thick rugs sat beneath the furniture, covering the hardwood, while there were televisions mounted on both sides of the fireplace, making two separate areas.
Heavy navy-blue drapes hung from thick iron rods, pulled back to reveal a solid wall of doors that appeared to retract completely, bringing the outside in should Obsidian and his housemates choose. The room overlooked a multilevel pool currently glittering pink and purple.
“Not the colors I’d expect for a manly property,” Penelope teased.
“Asmia’s the one who plays with the lights. She changes them nightly.”
“Asmia? Is she an angel, too?”
“Fae.”
