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That won’t be me. Not in this town.

“Should you get hungry, the kitchen staff is at your disposal while you’re here. We have a gourmet chef on staff, who is happy to prepare whatever you like.” Rand breaks my thoughts with even more of the amenities of this place.

Gourmet chef? What the hell would I ask of a gourmet chef? I don’t even know what gourmet chefs cook.

“Fancy,” Aunt Midge whispers as we follow Rand down a dark corridor. “Still don’t like this place. Makes the hairs on my neck stand up.”

I trail my gaze over the high ceilings and dark walls, the elaborate portraits either side of us. Relatives, I’d bet. A richness in the history of a family like nothing I’ve ever seen before. “I like it. And I’ll be home on weekends.”

“What happens on the weekends here? ‘Sat when they hold their séances?” Aunt Midge chuckles at herself, and I silently groan, taking in another sweep of the walls.

“It’s when the Master enjoys a bit of privacy,” Rand says, coming to a stop at the top of the staircase overlooking the foyer where we first came in. “He finds himself surrounded by others far more than he cares to be, and weekends give him a break from social interactions. However, you may be called on to attend a party, or the occasional dinner as added help.”

“What? Like serving the other richies?” The derision in Aunt Midge’s voice makes me regret letting her accompany me. How childish it must seem to have my aunt along for a job interview.

“I’m happy to assist. However I’m needed.” Even with my gaze cast away from her, I can feel Aunt Midge’s eyes burning into me as I seal my decision to take this job.

“Very good.” Continuing on down the staircase, Rand takes the lead once again, toward the front entrance, where we gather over the Blackthorne crest. “I trust you’re satisfied with the arrangement?”

The question is directed toward Aunt Midge, and a flare of irritation blazes beneath my skin when she tips her chin, as if she’s got any place being haughty and demanding. As if this man owes her an explanation for all the nosy gossip she’s been instrumental in perpetrating about this family. At the same time, the gesture makes me nervous. I know my aunt well enough that this is the point when she makes a bold and wildly inappropriate inquiry, like Is it true Lucian Blackthorne murdered his wife and son?

Say something, my head goads, but the words fail to breach my frozen lips.

“I guess, yeah. She have to hand out any medications, or anything?” Her response leaves me dumbfounded for a moment. So much so, I almost don’t appreciate the importance of her question--one I hadn’t bothered to ask myself. Jesus.

“Mrs. Blackthorne has a nurse who attends to her medical needs, as well as an occasional visiting physician. The role of the companion is strictly to spend time with her, in whatever capacity Mrs. Blackthorne finds comfortable, whether it be walks in the garden, or reading a book. She’s quite the bibliophile.”

“Sounds like the two of you will get along swimmingly.” Rolling her eyes, she crosses her arms in her usual defensive stance. “So do I … come pick her up on the weekends? How does that work?”

“Master Blackthorne has a personal driver who will be at the disposal of Miss Quinn, should she need to venture into town for anything.”

“His personal driver? Doesn’t he need him?” I’m clueless when it comes to the affairs of rich people and whether, or not, they commute to work like everyone else.

“Much of his business dealings are handled remotely, over the computer. Those that are held in person take place here, in his personal office. The Master rarely leaves his home for anything. He has occasional business trips on the mainland, or out of state, but those are fairly limited.”

The visual of the squirrels climbing the cage comes to mind again, and I catch myself frowning. “I don’t expect I’ll need to venture into town much, either, then.”

“Except to visit your aunt.” Aunt Midge adds.

“Of course.”

“If you’re satisfied with the amenities for your niece, I’d like to get Miss Quinn acquainted with her routine, so that she can begin her day with Mrs. Blackthorne.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Hiking a thumb over her shoulder, Aunt Midge tips her head. “I’ll just grab her bags and bring them inside.”

“Makaio is waiting at your car to gather Miss Quinn’s personal effects. There’s no need to come back inside. You’re free to go from there.”

“Oh. Uh. I guess this is … goodbye, then?” The uncertainty hasn’t faded from my aunt’s eyes when she steps toward me and wraps her arms around me in a hug. “You got your cell. Call me if you need anything. Or if anything seems shady,” she whispers.

With a nod, I grasp her elbows, breaking the embrace, and smile like I’m not nervous as all hell to meet the lady of the house. “I’ll be fine. Call you tonight, okay?”

“You better.” She turns her attention toward Rand and offers him a handshake, which turns into an awkward exchange between them when Rand only rests his palm in her hand for a moment, before nabbing a handkerchief to wipe away what I’m guessing he deems is germs on his skin.

“Yeah, so. I’ll go, then.” She slides her hands into her pockets, as if she doesn’t know what else to do with them. “See you …. See you this weekend.”

“Drive careful.” I don’t bother to follow her toward the door, for fear she’ll make a last ditch effort to sway me.

Nothing can sway me now that I’ve actually set foot inside the castle. There is a haunting ambience, but it’s not the emptiness and desolation I was expecting. Probably not quite what Aunt Midge was expecting, either, otherwise I doubt she’d concede so quickly. There’s a heartbeat inside this place, however faint, hidden beneath its bones.