Chapter 8 Dottie
Chapter eight
Dottie
"How'd it go last night?"
I jump at Granger's question and slosh orange juice on the floor.
"Sorry, Dot Dot. Didn't mean to scare you." He chuckles as he carries his plate to the kitchen table.
I mumble something incoherent as I clean up the orange juice.
"So?" Nick prods. "Was everyone on their best behavior?"
I refuse to meet his eyes. I’d take my food to my room, but that would raise suspicions for sure, so I reluctantly join them. I swallow a bite of toast, my hand shaking as I pick up my glass to take a sip.
Well, guys, I got eaten out for the first time by the son of the man trying to destroy your home, and I can't stop thinking about his talented tongue. So, no, I wasn’t on my best behavior.
"Yep," I reply succinctly.
"Were people in love with Toto's food?" Granger asks.
I nod, shoveling eggs into my mouth so I don't have to answer. Focusing on my plate, I realize it’s fallen rather quiet, and look up to find all three of my brothers staring at me with their arms crossed.
"Spill," Leo demands in a gruff voice.
My eyes dart between them. "What?"
"Did something happen last night?" Granger asks, concern shadowing his dark brown eyes.
I hesitate, not wanting to lie to them, but abso-fucking-lutely not willing to tell them the truth. "Nothing I can't handle," I say carefully, looking them in the eyes as I skirt the truth without telling an outright lie.
"Did someone hurt you?" Nick's eyes flick to the scar on my arm.
I shake my head quickly, but his comment jogs a memory from last night. "Hey, how do you guys know Vera Eastwood?"
A sudden growl to my left makes me squeak in alarm. Hand covering my mouth, I turn to stare at Leo in shock. His expression is a mixture of anguish and fury.
"Leo—"
Nick is cut off as Leo jumps up from the table and storms out of the house.
I scramble to my feet, throwing a confused look at Granger and Nick as I take off after him. But by the time I get to the front door, Leo has vanished.
"Let him go, Dot Dot. He's not ready to talk," Nick warns from behind me.
I turn, opening my mouth to question him.
"Neither am I," he states before I can, heading down the hallway to his room.
Granger shrugs when I turn to him in confusion. He plants a kiss on my forehead and heads out the door. Hesitating on the bottom porch step, he shields his eyes from the morning sun and gives me a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Stay away from Vera, Dottie. She's rotten to the core."
I stare after him in bewildered silence.
After a moment, I sit on the top step of the porch, my brain swirling with the events of the last twenty-four hours like an emotional cyclone.
The wicked witches of my past, the sexy, broody man I thought hated me, the danger I put myself in by trying to snoop in the home of a man who could squash me like a bug without a second thought—everything flies through my brain in a dizzying whirl.
But the thought that needles me the most is that I had a mission last night, and I'm now back to square one.
A movement out of the corner of my eye has me jumping to my feet.
I glare suspiciously at the winged monkey, who lands on the porch railing with a heavy thud.
He glares back at me, making it clear that my very existence on this earth irritates him.
In his hands is a rectangular shoebox. The monkey looks around, as if to ensure he wasn't followed, and sets the box on the railing.
He nudges it toward me and takes off again with a huff of exertion.
I watch him fly up and over the trees before returning my attention to the box.
What’s inside? A deadly snake? A ticking time bomb?
A poisoned apple? My guard is up, and I worry about the danger I might bring to my brothers if I keep pushing boundaries.
What would’ve happened if one of Frank Ozella's minions had made me disappear forever last night?
Would they be next? I need to stop taking stupid chances.
And yet... what if this box holds something wonderful?
I approach it with caution, lift the lid, and gasp. Wonderful indeed. Sparkly silver stilettos that look like a work of art glitter back at me. I run my fingers over the inset stones, admiring the stitching and construction.
Shoes are my love language.
A light blue envelope sticks out from underneath the bejeweled beauties, and I wiggle it from the package.
I'd like to see you in nothing but these tonight. Follow the trail and come alone.
M.
I flip the note over to see two words written in neat lettering at the bottom: Aperta coeur.
The first word I recognize as Latin, thanks to a year of private education, but I haven't had much occasion to use Latin during my nights bartending in Kansas. According to my phone's translator, "aperta" means "open," and the second word is French for "heart."
Open heart.
I clutch the shoebox to my chest and rack my brain, trying to figure out what trail the note refers to.
The most obvious answer is to follow the yellow brick road, which is the most famous trail in all of Oz.
But in doing so, an untold number of people and creatures might see me.
It would be impossible to ensure anonymity.
I close my eyes, remembering Maddox between my legs. My heartbeat quickens, and my nipples tighten. I want to shake my head free of the obsessive thoughts about the man I thought was my enemy. But he didn't kiss me like he hated me last night.
When I open my eyes again, I spot something glinting in the treeline twenty yards away. Standing, I race to the spot, but it disappears as I get close. I peer through the dense trees, and my eyes widen as golden footprints extend in a hologram-like path along the forest floor.
I bite my lip as I look back at the house, wondering if I should leave a note for my brothers, but I can’t risk the trail disappearing. I don’t know if it leads to my doom or my desire, but my lovesick heart is willing to chance it.
Taking a deep breath, I follow the magical path.
After half an hour, the footprints end at the base of a gnarled tree.
I walk around the thick trunk twice, searching for a hidden door or passage of some sort.
Gazing up at the tall, leafy branches, I wonder if the grumpy monkey will return with a second clue.
My skin prickles as I consider that I may have walked into a trap.
Sadly, the horny part of my brain is willing to risk it for a repeat of last night's salacious activities.
My eyes fall on the box in my hands, and I remember the rest of the message.
"Aperta coeur," I whisper against the tree.
A glowing doorway appears, beckoning me, drawing me inside. I glance around to make sure I haven't been followed, and step into the void.
A whoosh of air surrounds me as I slip into the darkness, the gust of wind pushing me along. The sensation persists for what feels like minutes, but probably only lasts seconds, and I emerge from the darkness at the mouth of a small cave.
I stumble through the opening, squinting as my eyes adjust to the light. The lush greenery of Fable Forest stretches out before me. I hear the babble of a brook nearby, and sunlight sneaks through the canopy. It’s as if I've stepped into the pages of a fairy tale book. Which, in some ways, I have.
Fable Forest is known for fairy tale creatures, both good and evil. Some parts are dangerous. My brothers have warned me repeatedly not to travel in the forest outside the path that leads to Oz.
How was I allowed to leave Oz without one of the guys' signatures?
Panic claws at my sanity, but then the gold shoe prints appear again. The scent of licorice flowers blows by on a breeze—the same aroma mixed with Maddox’s cologne last night. I close my eyes, willing myself to calm down.
Go big or go home, girl.
I follow the only obvious trail, praying that nothing sordid happens to me when I didn't bother to tell anyone where I was going.
To be fair, my brothers may not notice I'm gone.
Time works differently in Fable Forest. I don't know for sure what part the portal took me to, but a day or so here may only be a few hours elsewhere.
A tiny cottage emerges up ahead. It's beige and brown, covered in moss and ivy, blending into the landscape encroaching up the sides.
The glass windows have warped with age, but the structure is in good shape.
Smoke billows from the chimney in a welcome greeting.
I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe the candy cottage from Hansel & Gretel?
The cottage that belonged to an evil witch, I remind myself.
I stride up to the front door before I can change my mind and knock loudly. Footsteps approach on the other side of the wooden door, and my core throbs with anticipation of who I hope is on the other side.
The door opens with a creak, and my breath catches.
Maddox Ozella stands before me wearing nothing but gray sweatpants, slung low enough to reveal chiseled abs.
His broad shoulders fill the doorway, framed by the cozy glow behind him.
My entire body is on high alert. Every nerve ending is primed for his touch as my eyes trail over the plains and valleys of his impossibly muscled chest.
"I'm glad you could come."
Maddox's deep voice hits me directly between my thighs. I squeeze them together to alleviate the pressure building in my core. Finally, I regain my wits and clear my throat.
"Have you any candy, sir? I'm looking for something sweet to suck on." I feign innocence, batting my lashes.
Maddox covers his grin with one large hand and quickly schools his expression. His eyes rake over me, revealing dirty thoughts and secret desires.
"Come in, little girl. I'm sure I can find something for you to put in your perfect mouth.”