Three
T he door opens before I can even pull my fist away. It sends a jolt through me, one I work hard not to show on my face, but I’m not perfect. No one is. And knowing they were standing there watching me, waiting? It’s fucking creepy.
“Wasn’t sure you were gonna knock, girl. Come inside, it’s colder than hell out there.” An older woman, possibly mid-fifties, early sixties with dyed-dark hair and darker eyes steps aside to usher me in. I vaguely remember her from last time, but I’m awful with names. When it comes to secrets, I have near perfect recall, even for names — but for people I meet? I swear my brain switches off. Names don’t matter. Actions matter, intentions matter. Names don’t.
I step inside onto the marble floor and allow a woman younger than me to take my coat. “I was told the Provost had a new job for me. Of course I was going to knock.”
“As sharp as they promised,” she mutters with a soft smile. “How old are you, dear?”
“Twenty-two.”
She leads me deeper into the house, informing me where to find the kitchen, the dining hall, that the bedrooms are on the upper floors. But naturally, the master of the house has his own private suite. “Each room has its own bathroom, but we’ll make our way up there soon. First, we’re going to meet Alexander in the loft.”
Alexander. At least we’re not wasting any time.
I distract myself by focusing on the shiplap style walls, the gold accents everywhere. The portraits lining the halls of Creed, a woman I imagine is his wife, and a boy. The deeper into the hallway we go, the older the boy gets. He goes from young and intentionally stoic like he’s trying to play a part, to scruffy haired and unbothered. The final portrait, the one right at the end, shows a man. All jawline and deep set brown eyes, perfectly coiffed hair, and an aura of coldness that seems to seep from the paint.
It doesn’t look like Alexander has ever cared about anything in his life.
“Coming, dear?”
Glancing back at her, her name comes to me. “Madeline,” I answer softly. “Your name is Madeline. And yes, I’m coming.”
“That it is.” There’s a warmth from her I didn’t expect, and I find I’m glad for it. At least with it, his cold stare fades away, and I find my bearings just as we reach large double doors I believe lead to the loft. “Are you ready to meet your betrothed?”
That’s one sentence that shouldn’t exist in any language. You shouldn’t be meeting someone you’re already engaged to, it’s backward.
But here I am, about to meet mine for the second time in a year.
“I’m ready. Do I look okay? Last time, they bathed me and all sorts of other things. I thought...”
That I’d have more time to prepare.
“Yes, well... no need to bother with that tonight. You’ll be dressed for dinner tomorrow, and something tells me you’d look beautiful in a paper bag.” She offers me a tight lipped smile and takes my hands. “Take a breath, dear. Alexander is a good man.”
Raising my eyebrows, I choose not to verbalize the fact that if you have to point out someone is a good man, they’re probably not.
But Theo, Josiah and Beau weren’t good men, either. My Keepers. I survived them. I survived Jake, who wasn’t a good man.
I’ll survive this one too.
“I’m ready.”
After a nod she opens the door and steps aside, her hands clasped together like she’s done this a very long time, and when I enter the room I spot two men huddled together muttering under their breath.
Immediately, I recognize Provost Creed. He’s wearing a crisp navy blue suit, standing in front of three suitcases that look more expensive than most cars. He straightens as soon as he spots me, and when I flick my gaze to my betrothed, I find a crinkle between his groomed eyebrows that disappears under a mask so quickly I almost think I imagined it.
“Miss Harbough,” he says indifferently, like he’s greeting the newest member of his staff.
So formal. So cold.
A portrait come alive.
“Mr. Creed.” I bow slightly, then straighten my spine. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”
“Not at all,” the Provost says. “Nothing important, anyway. I take it Draven filled you in on why you are here?”
Nodding, I hold my posture and focus on Ephraim. “He did, yes.” I know better than to ask him why Jake had to die, why I’m being reassigned. He respects us, he does, but only to a certain extent. If we need to know something, he’ll tell us. But there are things I do need to know. “Can we speak in private, Provost?”
The frown returns to Alex’s face, but instead of insisting anything either way, he looks to his dad to respond.
Ephraim glances between us once before straightening like he expected this. He’s not one to ever show he’s caught off guard. “Yes, we can. We’ll be having a formal dinner tomorrow where you two will meet properly. A nice stroll through the garden should do, Alexander. The evening is yours.”
“Father.” He nods his head, then surprises the hell out of me when he takes my hand to place a kiss upon it. “Miss Harbough.”
Without another glance he strolls from the room, leaving me with one of the most powerful men in the country.
It’s a good thing they trained me for this, too.
“I’ll keep it brief, Provost. When you gifted me to Jacob Hart, my rules were to spy on him and keep him happy. With Alexander being your son, I thought it would be wise to clarify exactly what you require of me this time.”
He sizes me up a moment before responding. “Well trained, straight to the point. I like you. Your main job will be to keep him happy and provide heirs. I don’t care how you two make it work, but if I need information from you, I will inquire about it. Your only focus will be Alexander. If it were up to him, he’d never pass on the Creed name, and the other...” He trails off, and for the briefest of moments, I see something strange flash in his eyes. “Anyway. For this job, all you need to do is be a wife. Is that something you can accomplish?”
Heirs. Plural.
Nodding once, I offer him a soft smile. “Of course, Provost. Thank you for the clarification.”
“I appreciate getting straight to it. Are you on any contraception?”
“Just the pill, Sir. I’ll stop taking it immediately.” Which means Alexander won’t be using condoms. It’s been so long since I felt a man come inside me that it makes my thighs clench. Jacob didn’t want kids, so we were careful — birth control, condoms, and he hardly ever fucked my pussy anyway.
And Alex is... stunning, even in all of that ice.
“Good girl.” It sounds so much different coming from him than it did from Draven, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. “You really are a pretty one. Alexander is a lucky man. He may come across as aloof, but he’ll come around. How could he not?”
I want out of this loft.
“I’ll do my best to make him happy, Sir. May I be excused to freshen up a little? I wasn’t given a chance to pack or anything before Draven brought me here.”
“Your room has everything a girl could need, complete with a new wardrobe. If there is something important you need from your previous residence, let Madeline know, and we’ll send someone out to coordinate with Jacob. You’re excused. Miss Madeline,” he calls. “Please escort Sullivan to her room.”
It takes me a second to register what he said. I don’t care how good his staff members are, I don’t think anyone is coordinating with ghosts — and Ephraim isn’t senile. He wouldn’t make a mistake like that, which means he doesn’t know that Jake is dead.
If he didn’t command it, Draven disobeyed his orders.
Instead of ratting him out, I tuck it away as a second piece of information to hold over his head and bow slightly to the Provost once more. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow.”
He watches us leave before he heads the opposite way, and Madeline leads me up a grand staircase before she says another word. “I live here as well, so if there’s anything at all you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
I doubt I’ll need much, but it’s rude to refuse help when it’s offered. Who knows what these halls will hold for me. “Thank you. How long have you been working with the Provost?”
“Thirty-four years,” she says proudly. “He brought me on when Verna gave birth to Alexander as a temporary wet nurse and I’ve been here ever since. Not much happens in this place without me knowing about it.”
The sly glint in her eyes promises secrets, good secrets, but secrets I’m not in a place to ask about yet. Most people are dying to spill the dirt they know. It’s instinctual. Like moths being drawn to flames, they just can’t help themselves. Gossip is life-sustaining mana. But timing matters. I’m new here. I haven’t proven myself. A few kind words here, a favor there, telling a few secrets of my own... that’s the build-up. That’s how you build trust. And trust, well... once it’s built, the secrets flow like raging rivers.
I’ll get there, even with her. Even with Alexander. I’m already building trust with Draven despite not having a clue how to use it yet. But in this world, having a murderer in your debt is as good as gold. It may save my life one day.
“Is this one mine?”
We’re stopped in front of a single black door with an absolutely ancient handle. I doubt it locks anymore it’s so old, but she proves me wrong when she pulls out a skeleton key to open it. “Yes. This one’s yours. As I said earlier, you’ll have your own bathroom and you don’t need to worry about tidying up. Anything you need can be brought to you, just use the intercom located here.” She pushes the door open and gestures to the wall just to the left. “Any house-wide announcements will be made over this, so don’t ever turn it off. You can also use it to call for food, drink, books, clean towels, whatever you need. Just press this button and it will lead to the staff’s quarters.”
As she lightly taps the button in the middle, I take a moment to look around the room. It looks exactly the way I expected it to — four poster bed, two giant dressers, a walk-in closet filled with clothes that couldn’t be further from my style, and a chaise just next to the bed. It’s much nicer than the room I shared with Jacob, certainly, but having a room at all seems counterproductive.
“Forgive me if the answer is obvious, but if I’m supposed to marry Alexander, shouldn’t I be sleeping with him? The Provost was clear about my duty here.”
Gently, she squeezes my arm. “Alexander is extremely private. He always has been. He requested that you be given your own space so that he can keep his, and as you get to know each other, I’m sure you’ll be staying with him more often than not. He thought you’d be happy to have a space to call your own.”
Nothing belongs to me.
“Oh, I am,” I say quickly. “I was just curious. When I was given to Jacob, I was in his bed the first night. This is different, that’s all. I guess I’m still learning.”
She pats me softly and takes a step back toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it then. Breakfast will be brought to you at 8:00am sharp. You’ll be allowed free time after that to get a feel for the house, the grounds, and to get yourself ready. Dinner will be at 6:00pm and I don’t think I need to tell you that Provost Creed doesn’t tolerate tardiness. I’d be fifteen minutes early if I were you, especially for this first one. You’ll meet the rest of the family and more of the staff. Dress nicely, speak quietly, and you’ll do just fine.”
Pretty, pristine, and silent.
“Got it. Thank you so much for your help.”
With a wave, she leaves me alone and shuts the door behind her. I do a cursory sweep for cameras, and when I find none, I finally allow myself to slump down on the bed and feel the weight of everything that happened to me today.
Jacob Hart wasn’t a good man, but he was my future. He was the type of man I knew how to handle, how to control. And now he’s dead. Killed in front of me by a psycho in a Santa hat that I’m just now noticing is tucked under my pillow.
Scrambling up, I throw the pillow across the room and stare down at the hat. Draven left. He left me here, door open and car running to fend for myself. He was in my room? How did he know which one was mine, and more importantly, what message is he trying to send by doing this?
Not a good one, I’m sure. Maybe it’s a warning to keep my mouth shut. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation because I did, but I doubt it. The feeling of dread pooling inside my stomach has less to do with the horror I witnessed tonight than it does the inky black uncertainty ahead of me, and this only makes it worse.
Bastard, baby, murderer, psycho. Draven.
What secrets are you hiding?