27. Thea
27
Thea
M y heart still pounded after the aborted hit on Lucian. In hindsight, slitting his throat on the terrace had been a terrible idea anyway, so Cassian’s arrival had been a blessing in disguise.
At least Cassian hadn’t recognized me. If he’d blown my cover, Lucian would have probably had me arrested by now.
Since Lucian was busy with his wife for a bit, I was on my way to check out his office. Only I wasn’t sure where it was.
The mansion I’d grown up in was huge, but the sheer size of Blackwood Manor made my home seem small. I wondered why any family would need a house this large. The only explanation I could come up with was that the Forsyths preferred time away from one another.
Having met Cassian’s father, it made perfect sense. If I was Lucian Forsyth’s wife, I’d appreciate a house so vast I never had to see the asshole.
The music and laughter faded as I walked down a corridor away from the main rooms. An occasional servant scurried past looking harried and overworked, laden with trays of drinks and snacks, but they ignored me. I guessed Lucian didn’t pay them enough to worry about guests stealing the family heirlooms.
Or more likely, they assumed I was searching for a bathroom that didn’t have a long queue.
I took my time, keen to appear nonchalant, peering into any open doorways I passed. The thick carpet underfoot cushioned my footsteps, and the further I got from the ballroom, the colder the house felt.
Blackwood Manor had appeared welcoming when I first arrived. With lights blazing everywhere, the press of warm bodies, and an abundance of alcohol and hors d’oeuvres, it was easy to overlook the drafty leaded windows, dark wood paneling that harked back to the 1800s, and the rows of dusty paintings depicting ancient old men.
The manor felt more like a mausoleum than a home, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for a young Cassian having to grow up here. The house where I’d spent my childhood was hardly the most welcoming place thanks to the malign presence of my father and Torrance, but at least I’d had the attic to escape to. Not all my childhood memories were nightmares.
I reached a narrow staircase and peered up. The landing above was in semi-darkness. The skin on the back of my neck prickled in warning and I paused on the bottom step and spun around, but the corridor behind me was empty. No servants or free-roaming guests anywhere in sight.
I was probably just being paranoid.
Eager to get this stupid task over and done with so I could leave this miserable party and head back to campus, I hurried up the staircase. Dour old men glowered at me as I passed, each new painting more depressing than the last.
The house was silent as a grave up here on the first floor. No servants, guests, or anyone in sight. Richly patterned rugs, faded tapestries, and thick drapes muffled any sounds from the party below. I passed two guest bedrooms, both of them empty, and a few more deserted rooms containing nothing but furniture draped in white dust sheets.
At the end of the corridor, I reached a room with a locked door. Making sure there was nobody around, I pulled my lock picks from my purse and set to work. It took less than a minute before the door lock disengaged and clicked open.
Inside, I turned on a desk lamp and looked around. It was a surprisingly spacious room lined with bookshelves, paintings of horses and stags on the forest green walls, and various framed photographs depicting family members, including a child who looked a lot like Cassian.
This had to be Lucian’s home office.
Knowing there wasn’t much time, I quickly set to work. Dad had also asked me to look for information on Operation Willow, which was the codename for the anti-drugs operation overseen by the one and only Lucian Forsyth.
The desk drawers contained nothing but stationery and paper clips, so I turned to the locked filing cabinet in the corner. It took me a hot minute to crack the lock, but other than HR files on house employees and other useless information, I found nothing of interest.
Then a manila folder sitting on a side table caught my eye. I opened it. Inside was a sheet of paper with a list of names. One of them I recognized: Roberto Pesci. Pesci worked for my father, managing his drugs distribution network in this country.
Why would his name be on this list held by Lucian Forsyth?
Was Pesci a target or an informant?
It was impossible to say, but I figured my father would want to see the list, so I snapped a photo of it and sent it to him.
There was nothing else of interest. No laptops or phones, so I switched off the desk lamp and cracked open the study door to make sure I was still alone. Seeing no one, I cautiously stepped out and pulled the door shut, listening to make sure the lock clicked back in place.
I hurried back down the corridor, ignoring the old men staring at me from the walls. This place gave me the creeps. It was the kind of old house where ghost hunters played with Ouija boards in dark rooms while filming it all for their YouTube channels.
Something caught my eye as I passed an open room, but before I could react, a tall figure in a full-face mask stepped out. Shoulder-length black hair curled over the collar of his tuxedo.
“Oh, hello, where am I?” I tittered, pretending to wobble in my heels, but the guy stared at me in silence. Well, shit, maybe my acting skills were not as good as I’d thought. “Is this the way back to the ballroom? I was looking for a bathroom and took a wrong turn,” I tried again.
His mouth quirked up, and I got the distinct impression the fucker was laughing at me.
“You definitely took a wrong turn,” he said with a snort. “Last time I checked, Lucian’s office wasn’t a bathroom.”
Fuck. I needed to get rid of this guy, and fast, before he set the security team on me.
He was still laughing when I took him down with a swift knee to the groin and a sharp throat punch. He fell to the floor gasping, yanking my red wig off in the process. I didn’t miss the way his gray eyes flared with surprise and recognition while he fought for air.
“Thea,” he managed to cough out.
Before I could react, he pulled his face mask off and I realized who’d caught me snooping: Milo, the silent friend. The guy who’d been following me around on campus for weeks.
Even with my stupid mask still in place, he knew who I was.
If Milo blabbed, it would fuck up everything. My place at Abernethy hung on the fact nobody knew why I was there. If anyone suspected I was not at college to study, it would raise questions. Questions I couldn’t answer.
Instinct kicked in and I pulled my knife out without thinking, pressing it to Milo’s neck. The viciously sharp blade broke the skin. Blood trickled down and stained the collar of his white shirt.
Unlike Kyril, Milo wasn’t a fighter. He probably knew that he stood no chance of fighting me off now that I had a blade to his neck. One wrong move and I’d cut his throat, leave him to bleed out. Then I’d disappear into the night like a ghost.
This should have been the moment I tied up a loose end. Removed a witness. Eliminated any possibility my presence here would compromise my mission.
And yet…
I couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter how many people my father forced me to kill, I would never be a cold-blooded murderer.
I pulled the knife away from Milo’s throat, grabbed the wig, and ran, not thinking about why I couldn’t hurt Milo, who was likely up on his feet by now, rushing to call the security guards to arrest my stupid ass. I needed to get the fuck out of here, and fast.
After pausing for a moment to pull the wig back into place, I dashed back downstairs. A server glanced at me curiously as she carried a tray of drinks toward the ballroom, but I ignored her.
The crowd had thinned out, but there were still more than enough people around to disguise my chaotic entrance. A couple stood talking next to a tall potted palm looked up and huffed with annoyance when I brushed past them none too gently.
Where was the exit?
Dammit, this place was a rabbit warren. I’d lost all sense of direction since my mad dash away from Lucian’s office. Torrance’s voice echoed in my mind, mocking me for forgetting my training.
Lose your cool, Thea, and you’ll lose your head.
He was right. I needed to calm down. I also needed to get out of here. Dad would be furious, but going after Lucian was too dangerous now that Milo knew I was here. He’d likely tell Cassian, who’d inform his father some random girl from college had shown up at an exclusive, invitation-only party.
I took a deep breath and pushed through a set of double doors to my left. The smell of chlorine lured me down a dimly lit corridor.
If there was a swimming pool here, there would almost certainly be an exit to the garden, and if I found it, I could walk around to the main entrance and leave. It was a shitty plan, but surely better than navigating my way through the rest of the guests in the main ballroom.
The last thing I needed was to run into Cassian or his father. Lucian would spot me a mile off; my wig was distinctive, but I was reluctant to ditch it because, without it, I looked more like myself.
When I reached a set of glass doors, the sight of a glowing aqua swimming pool greeted me, gently steaming in the cool air. For a moment, my anxiety faded, but then I spotted Landon lounging on a reclining chair in the semi-darkness.
He’d tossed his tuxedo jacket and mask to one side, unbuttoned his shirt, and was busy smoking what looked - and smelled like - a joint. As I watched, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.
Dear Lord.
I stood glued to the tiled floor, utterly captivated by the sight of Landon pleasuring himself.