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She stares at me for a moment. Then she laughs. “Ella,”—she takes another step toward me—“you seem confused about your position here. You’re an employee at Vexley House, and you occupy a room in this manor at the pleasure of Arthur Vexley.”
My pulse hammers. “So?”
“So if you won’t hand me the phone, I’ll have to search your room.”
“If Mr. Vexley wants my room searched,” I say, praying my voice doesn’t shake, “then Mr. Vexley can ask.”
Audrey’s eyes flash. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not giving you my key,” I say, “and you’re not searching my room. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You refused to give me your phone.”
“Because it’s my phone,” I say. “You don’t have the right to even ask for it.”
She parts her lips, and for a second, I think I may have rendered her speechless.
Until her hand cracks across my face.
The sound is louder than the pain.
My head snaps to the side, and my body follows. I stumble backward, my shoe catching on a runner, and I hit the floor hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
Pain bursts along my cheek, but I’m more concerned about the clatter of my actual phone in my pocket as it hits the floor.
A slow, satisfied grin spreads across Audrey’s face.
My cheek throbs. My eyes burn. But not from pain.
From fury.
How dare she?
I pull myself up when—
A throat clears behind us.
Audrey freezes.
So do I.
Audrey’s expression changes so quickly it’s almost frightening. Her mouth curves into something warm and concerned, and by the time she turns, she looks like a caring mother.
I stay on the floor, too stunned to move.
Nathaniel Vexley stands at the bottom of the stairs.
I’ve seen him before. Everyone at Vexley House has seen Nathaniel Vexley in passing. A flash of dark hair, a tailored suit, a perfect profile that belongs on a magazine cover.
But I’ve never seen him this close. Never from the floor. Never with my cheeks burning.
He’s beautiful.
Not handsome.
Beautiful.
Beautiful in a way that feels expensive and unfair. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes the color of dark emeralds that look like they can see right through you. A fairy-tale prince, if fairy-tale princes looked like they knew where the bodies were buried.
