Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Adeline
I yawn, waking up, when I feel a hand touch my shoulder.
Sitting up, I look around to find myself in a leather seat.
I try to remember the last thing that’s happened, but everything feels fuzzy.
I remember fainting, but I don’t remember getting on the plane.
I feel sluggish as I look around the cabin of the plane.
Eli stands in front of me, looking down at me.
“We are here. Time to get up,” he says, turning and walking off.
My head is pounding, and I can feel a migraine coming on as I press my fingers to my temple.
“Did I sleep the entire way?” I ask, trying to remember anything at all. Soya is a few hours by plane; surely, I haven’t slept that long.
“Yes, you fainted and remained asleep,” Cyrus says, walking past me before leaning down and undoing the belt fastened across my waist.
I stand clutching my head, which is pounding to its own beat.
“I have the worst headache,” I mutter to myself as I follow them off the plane and onto the tarmac, where a car is waiting.
A man is putting luggage in the trunk of the black SUV.
Eli opens the back door, and I feel Cyrus’s hand go to my lower back before he pushes me toward the open door.
I climb in, moving across the seat. Eli climbs in beside me while Cyrus gets in the driver’s seat.
I put my belt on, and Eli leans between the two seats, grabbing something from the front before handing me a bottle of water and some Advil.
“Thank you,” I tell him, taking them from him and popping three of the little blue pills in my mouth before swallowing a mouthful of water. I rest my head on the headrest, looking out the window as Cyrus starts driving.
Something feels off, like I am missing something. I just can’t put my finger on what it is. The car ride is silent when I notice we are heading out of the city instead of toward it. I sit up, leaning forward on my seat.
“I thought you had a meeting in the city?” I ask, leaning forward and talking to Cyrus.
His eyes flick to me in the rearview mirror before going back to the road.
“We do, but we have a house just outside the city, which is where we will be staying overnight,” he says.
I nod, sitting back to find Eli watching me, his body turned slightly toward me. His stare makes me nervous and self-conscious.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, making me bite my bottom lip, wondering what the hell he could possibly want to know.
I nod, and Cyrus clears his throat in the front.
“How did your father die?” he asks abruptly, making my head whip to the window.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling dry.
“I’m not sure. They never told us what really happened,” I tell him honestly.
“They?” Cyrus asks, looking in the rearview mirror at me.
“The people my father worked for. They just told us it was a freak accident,” I answer, wondering why they want to know such a thing. The feeling in my stomach unsettles me. I don’t like talking about my father’s death; far too many questions have gone unanswered.
“What about your sister?” Eli asks, making me look back at him.
“Why do you care?” I ask before pressing my lips into a thin line and biting my tongue, realizing how rude that sounded.
“I don’t. I was just making conversation,” Eli says, his eyes narrowing as he glares back at me.
I look to the front, only to notice Cyrus watching me before his eyes dart back to the road.
I gulp suddenly, wanting to get away from them and out of this car, the vibe in the car becoming unsettling and tense.
I start fiddling with the zip on my bag nervously.
The car remains silent and awkward for the rest of the drive.
We pull into a long driveway lined by trees on either side.
A huge two-story stone house comes into view.
Cyrus pulls up at the front near the door on the horseshoe driveway stopping the car.
Eli gets out, slamming the car door and stalking off toward the house and not looking back.
However, Cyrus remains seated, staring at me in the mirror; I shrink under his intense gaze.
“It would be in your best interest not to provoke Eli, Addie. It won’t end well for you,” he says, making me wonder what he means.
His words send a chill up my spine, yet I find it odd that he uses a nickname for me when they usually call me by my name; it feels odd, more personal and familiar.
He gets out, and I sit there pondering over his words when my door suddenly opens.
Cyrus grabs my hand, pulling me from the car. Sparks rush up my arm at his touch, making me look at my palm when he lets go. He has a serious static problem. Every time he touches me, the same thing happens.
Walking inside, I am blown away by the sheer size of the place.
The foyer alone is nearly as big as our entire home.
Two staircases run up to the landing above, overlooking the floor below.
There is a huge living room with a fireplace and some lounges to the right.
The left side has a huge dining room and another huge arched doorway leading somewhere else, and straight ahead, going underneath the stairs, leading to another part of the house.
Wooden exposed beams run across the roof and the slate floors, making the place seem homely despite its overbearing size.
I watch Eli stalk up the stairs, and I can see he is still angered by me snapping at him in the car.
The man has serious anger issues. He is my boss, and I am not obligated to tell them about my personal life, nor are they supposed to pry into it.
My stomach is churning at the realization that I still have to survive being here with them for the night.
Cyrus points to the stairs, and I walk toward them before letting him lead the way.
He shows me where the bathroom is and to a bedroom with a huge king-size bed that sits in the center of the room.
Everything looks brand new and untouched.
The house, despite its beauty, looks more like a show home than something people live in, not a speck of dust, and I actually feel bad for their cleaning person, having to dust this place with its exposed wooden beams and the chandeliers.
Also, just the furnishings, which are mostly oak, would require a fair amount of furniture polish.
“Our bedroom is the one at the end of the hall if you need us,” Cyrus tells me before spinning around, and I see Eli move past the bedroom door heading back downstairs.
Cyrus pops his head out the door, watching him go.
“Where are you going?” he calls after him.
“To the fucking meeting,” Eli says to him.
My stomach plummets at the anger in his voice.
“Well, wait, we will come. It’s a little early still,” Cyrus calls down to him.
I hear the door slam, making me flinch.
“Stay here. I will go talk to him,” Cyrus tells me before walking out of the room.
I stand there, gobsmacked that he is still so angry over our little tiff in the car. I wasn’t deliberately being a bitch; my sister is just a touchy subject for me. I feel protective of her and don’t want them to judge her on her poor life choices.
The house is dead quiet. I remain in the room, but I am also too scared to touch anything in case I break it, knowing it will probably cost a fortune to be replaced.
After a few hours of sitting in the room waiting for him to return, I realize they aren’t coming back.
I look at the time on my phone, knowing that the meeting started an hour ago.
It kind of seems pointless that I am here now.
Wasn’t the entire reason I was forced to go to attend this meeting with them?
When it starts to get dark, my stomach rumbles, and I realize I haven’t eaten all day.
Ignoring the noise, I rummage through my bag, looking for my pajamas before sticking my head out.
The house is dark besides the bedroom I have been waiting in.
I plug my phone into the charger after nearly running the battery dead, reading off the many apps on my phone.
Walking down the hall toward the stairs, I run my hands over the wall, trying to feel for a light switch, but come up empty.
I feel the door to the bathroom. Twisting the handle, I open it and flick on the lights before stepping inside the room.
The tiles feel cold underneath my bare feet.
I notice some fresh towels rolled up in a basket next to the sink, and I sigh with relief because I have no idea where the linen closet is.
Stripping my clothes off, I turn on the shower and twist the taps to adjust the heat repeatedly before getting it right.
I am about to give up when suddenly the water reaches a bearable temperature, and I step inside the shower.
The exhaust fan is the only noise besides the running water.
The room fills up with steam as I wash myself.
I don’t notice someone sitting on the sink basin until I turn toward the door.
I jump, a shriek leaving my lips at the fright as my heart palpitates in my chest.
“Woah, geez, Cyrus!” I squeal, turning away from his wandering eyes. “Heard of knocking?” I ask, embarrassed but thankful that the glass is also fogged up, so I know he can’t have seen much.
“Now, why would I knock in my own house?” he asks, and I deadpan.
He knew I was in here and yet walked on in, not even worried that it might upset me.
I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t; he just remains sitting on the sink basin.
I can feel his eyes roaming over me, making goosebumps rise on my skin, that weird sensation rolling over me when you can feel eyes watching you.
Cutting the water off, I stay with my back to him.
“If you’re not going to get out, can you at least pass me a towel?
” I ask, not even bothering to hide the anger in my voice.
He’s seriously crossed a line. This goes beyond a professional work-related relationship; this is highly inappropriate.
I hear the door screen open and hold my hand out when I feel him wrap the towel around me, making me jump.
His nose runs across my shoulder to the crook of my neck before he pulls back.
“You smell divine, mouth-watering,” he says, and I shake his words off, gripping the towel and tightening it around me before turning around to face him. Bending down, I pick up my shower gel.
“Coconut shower gel. Here, you can use it,” I tell him, wanting him to move out of the way. He doesn’t move but steps aside, allowing me to pass him.
“Eli isn’t very happy with you.”
“Really? I haven’t noticed,” I tell him, grabbing my clothes off the ground when I suddenly feel hands grip my waist before being shoved onto the sink basin.