Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
ANABELLE
Istop at the iron gates that separate the sprawling estate from the road, and my heart rate picks up as if I’m still on my jog from this morning.
Midnight Manor is surrounded by mystery and folklore and has been since it was built almost two hundred years ago. Like my family’s much more modest estate, Midnight Manor has been in the Voss family since it was erected.
But unlike Oak Haven, it wasn’t built in the classic Antebellum style of most of the landowners at the time. Midnight Manor appears more like a Gothic palace in both size and scale and sits high on a hill with the town of Magnolia Bend far below in the distance.
With one deep breath, I roll down the window, then gather the strength to press the button. Once I do, a man’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mr. Voss.” I grip the steering wheel tighter to keep my hands from shaking.
“Which one?” the voice from the speaker snaps.
Right. Four Mr. Vosses live here. “Asher Voss.”
“Do you have an appointment?” I can hear the condemnation in his voice.
“No, but it’s imperative that I speak with him.”
“You need to leave if you don’t have an appointment.”
My mouth forms a thin line. “I’m not leaving here until I see Asher Voss. Please tell him it’s Anabelle Boudreaux.”
The man in the speaker says nothing for a few beats, and my heart sinks with the thought he’s just disregarding me now. Then finally, “Wait there.”
Nothing happens for almost five minutes, and the tension coils tighter inside me with every second that passes.
I debate hitting the button again but decide that I’m more likely to gain entry if I follow his instructions.
So I sit in the car, becoming more and more nervous.
What will I do if I’m denied the opportunity to speak with Asher Voss?
A loud buzz startles me, and the iron gates slowly part. I quickly shift my vehicle into drive and roll past the gates, holding my breath.
This is the first time I’ve been on the property of Midnight Manor.
As kids, we were always warned not to cross the small river that separates our properties, or we’d face dire consequences. Which makes my father’s death even more puzzling—what was he doing on the other side of the river the day he was killed?
I continue down the long drive flanked by bald cypress trees.
Though it’s only late morning, it’s dimmer here than when I drove through the gates.
Almost as though the sunlight is being filtered through black gauze.
When I come to the end of the drive, the cypress trees fall away, and the manor rises up to greet me. My breath catches in my throat.
Midnight Manor is even more intimidating than I imagined. The structure is built from dark gray stone, and two wings lead in an angle off the main part of the house. At the end of each wing is a tower with a spire that reaches toward the heavens.
I park my car in the circular drive and inhale a deep, calming breath before grabbing my purse and stepping out of the vehicle. The air here feels heavier, as if it’s dense and eats up the sound of my sandals on the stone.
Perched along the top of the manor are stone gargoyles. An ominous feeling of being watched makes all the hair on my arms stand at attention like soldiers. Towering over the front door is a large stained-glass rose window, and before I have a chance to knock, the door appears to open all by itself.
I step back when a tall thin man steps out from behind the door. His warm smile puts me slightly at ease. My best guess would put him to be in his fifties as there’s gray sprinkled in his brown hair.
“Mademoiselle.” He bows, and I’m unsure what to make of the gesture. This is not the welcome I expected.
“Um… hi.”
“I am Marcel Lacour. Pleasure to meet you.”
Despite his very French name, he doesn’t have an accent of any kind.
The breeding my mother drilled into me kicks in, and I do my best to smile at him despite my nerves. “Anabelle Boudreaux.”
His eyebrows raise. “Ah, from the adjoining estate.”
I nod. “Yes. I’m here to see Mr. Voss… Asher Voss, that is.”
He claps his hands in front of himself, startling me. “Of course. Right this way. Mr. Voss is in his office.”
Marcel waits for me to step into the house before he closes the door and leads me through the house. It’s no surprise to me that Midnight Manor is big, but I didn’t realize how enormous it was until I follow Marcel through room after room.
The only other people I see are servants.
Though there are many arched windows throughout the property, even in the middle of the day it’s still dim. Shadows encompass every corner of the rooms, except the ones with all the lights on. And even then, it feels darker than it should be this time of day.
When Marcel leads me down a long hallway with a soaring ceiling displaying ribbed vaulting, I realize that we’re moving away from the central part of the house into one of the other wings.
I’m so turned around that I have no idea whether it’s one of the two I saw from outside or a different one entirely.
Eventually, we stop in front of a dark wood door, and Marcel turns to me. “If he’s a little… difficult today, please forgive him. It’s already been a day, and it’s not even lunch.”
My eyes flare wide. Wonderful. I’ve chosen to visit a man rumored to be a predator when he’s having a bad day.
Marcel doesn’t wait for me to respond. He spins quickly on his heel and knocks on the door before swinging it open a couple of feet. “A Miss Anabelle Boudreaux to see you, sir.”
Marcel pushes the door open the rest of the way and retreats down the hallway, leaving me staring at a man who exudes power and dominance. Even with his attention on some papers on the large wooden desk in front of him, it’s obvious this man is harmful.
I’m frozen where I stand. My legs won’t work, won’t move when I command them to. I’m standing in the center of the house that fueled the urban myths and nightmares of my childhood. Not only that, but I’m under the scrutiny of the biggest and baddest of them all.
“Did you come here to stare at me all day, or is there an actual purpose to your unscheduled visit? Be quick about it, Miss Boudreaux. I have things to do.” His voice is deep and menacing, and when he raises his head to look at me, my breath lodges in my throat.
It’s not as though I’ve never seen a picture of Asher Voss—though there are few of him online—but the few pictures don’t do him justice. Sure, I’ve passed him on the street a handful of occasions, but even then, I couldn’t take him in.
His deep blue eyes settle on me. The way his dark hair curls down toward his ears, some pieces falling forward onto his forehead, makes me want to reach across the expanse of the room and brush them away from his perfectly sculpted face.
He’s perfect as if his beauty was created to draw you in.
I stand at the threshold of his office feeling like a rabbit caught in the sightline of a hunter, too afraid to scamper away for fear it will draw attention to me.
He continues to study me with measured patience. Finally, with resignation, I step into his office, close the door and walk toward his desk. The bored and irritated expression on his face does nothing for my confidence.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me.” I clear my throat since my voice sounds squeaky to my own ears. “It’s an urgent matter that couldn’t wait.”
“So I gathered.” He motions to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
I slowly sink down, careful not to wrinkle my dress. I notice a tattoo of a lethal-looking bear on his hand. Its eyes are fierce, and its jaw is wide open in a ferocious roar, long sharp teeth on display.
Once I’m seated, I reach into my purse and pull out the paper, then set it on the desk in front of me, careful not to get too close. I’m not dumb enough to get within his grasp. “I think there’s been some kind of mistake. This was pinned to our door this morning.”
He gives the paper a cursory glance and leans back in his chair as though this entire conversation is a waste of time. “I assure you, there’s been no mistake.”
I blink a couple of times. I secretly hoped he was going to tell me there was an error of some kind. Maybe be rude and dismissive, annoyed that he had to deal with me, but the letter was not meant for us.
“How can that possibly be? Oak Haven has been in my family for centuries. There’s no mortgage on the property, no liens.”
“I’m afraid, Miss Boudreaux, your father needed money. I gave it to him, and in return, if he defaulted on payments, Oak Haven Estate was mine.”
“Why would he ever come to you?” My voice comes out more forcefully and snippier than it probably should.
Asher Voss’s eyes narrow like the beast he is. “Tread carefully, little girl. You’re lucky I even allowed you to see me today. I did it as a courtesy because you’ve just lost your father and for no other reason. I’m just as apt to throw you out without giving you the information you want.”
Daddy, what did you do? Why would you sign a deal with the devil? Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall in front of this man.
“To answer your question, your father didn’t have a choice. The banks would never lend a cent to your father. So he came to me because he knows I have money and was his last resort.”
The idea of asking this man for information about my dead father, a man I thought I knew so well, stings, but the idea of losing Oak Haven Estate is unfathomable. “Why did he need the money? Why wouldn’t a bank give it to him?”
Asher Voss stares at me for a long moment, but there’s judgment under his silence. His head tilts as if I’m a child. And I suppose to him, I probably am. Twenty-two to his thirty-six, according to Google.
“Did you really not know about your father’s gambling addiction?”
Every muscle in my body tenses and anger fills my veins. “My father did not have a gambling addiction.”