Chapter 12
Twelve
When I wake up, it takes me a moment to remember where I am. I sit up in a big, cushy bed and take in all the opulence surrounding me. It makes the ache for home lessen.
It’s hard to think about my family estate, knowing I’ll never step foot in there again. But the good feelings about it have been fading over the years, replaced with shitty memories. I despise Louise and my stepsisters for stealing away my happy memories until they are mere whispers in the walls of my family home.
I still can’t believe Nero invited me to stay here. I knew the Voss family was rich of course, mega rich, and I’ve heard the stories, urban legends, but I never would have conjured up this manor in my mind.
I’m so used to being up early to get things done around the house that the sun is rising as I slide out of bed. Unsure what to do with myself, I shower and dress for the day. Since it would be weird for me to wander around the manor, I decide to hang out until Nero seeks me out.
I check my cell phone for any text messages, but there’s nothing. It’s early, but Louise must not have seen my message from last night telling her that I won’t ever be returning to the estate again. I wish I could see the look on her face when she realizes there’s going to be no one to do their bidding and hand them money every day.
It’s hard to stay still. I’m not accustomed to not having a list of tasks to accomplish, so I’m thankful when there’s a soft knock at the door.
I rush over and swing the door open. Nero is standing on the other side, dressed casually in a pair of black jeans and white T-shirt with a brown suede jacket over the top. His blue eyes dip down then back up, taking me in, and a shiver runs up my spine.
“Good morning,” I say with a smile and step back, inviting him inside.
“How’d you sleep last night?”
“Like the dead.”
I smile, but Nero’s eyes widen, and it takes him a moment to recover.
“Good. Are you hungry for breakfast? I thought we could eat together.”
I am hungry, and more than that, that idea of being able to sit and enjoy my breakfast, rather than shoving something in my mouth as I’m doing chores around the house, is even more appealing. My first hot home-cooked meal in… I have no idea how long.
“I’d like that.”
Nero leads me out into the wide hallway with high arching ceilings. Even though it’s morning, the space still has an oppressive feel. It doesn’t take long before he gestures for me to go through a door on his left.
Inside is a small—by Midnight Manor standards—kitchen with the basics. The far corner has a little breakfast nook with benches that have been upholstered in a rich red and black fabric and are surrounded by three intricate arched windows.
“I had this room renovated into a kitchen so I don’t have to hike to the main kitchen every time I want a snack or something to drink.”
I smile and sit at the table, where plates of pastries, fruit, and yogurt are on display. “Oh, I don’t know. You could definitely get your ten thousand steps in a day walking back and forth to the main kitchen every time you’re thirsty.”
He chuckles and sits beside me. “True enough. Is this okay for breakfast? I can have something else brought if you prefer.”
I wave off his concern. “This is perfect, thanks.”
“Coffee?” he asks, picking up a carafe.
“No, thanks. I don’t drink coffee.”
He looks momentarily stunned. “How can anyone not drink coffee first thing in the morning?”
I just smile and don’t bother telling him it’s because Louise always insisted on having a very expensive coffee imported, and therefore I was never permitted to have any, so I never got addicted like my stepsisters.
We eat in silence, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable like I thought it might. No, like most things with this man, I’m entirely comfortable. Too comfortable even.
Eventually, he breaks the silence. “Now that you’ve had a good night’s sleep, I wondered… why do you feel as though you can’t go home?”
I expected this question. I suppose now is as good a time as any. I finish chewing my croissant and meet his gaze. “My dad died when I was fifteen, and that’s when everything changed. I’d always known that my stepmother didn’t care for me, even when my dad was alive. But somehow, he was happy with her, so I never said a word. I wanted him to be happy. There are images in my mind from after my mom died of my father’s devastation, so I was glad he found someone to make him smile again. But she never cared for me, nor did my stepsisters. Once Dad was gone, they were free to make it known how much they actually despised me.”
I blink back tears desperate to fall from talking about my dad. Nero squeezes my hand.
I sniffle and suck in a big breath. “Anyway, they’ve made my life a living hell for years, and I stuck around because I didn’t want to leave the only home I’d ever known. That place used to hold such good memories for me, you know? But my stepmom grew more and more demanding of my time, my money, my energy until I just broke. I lashed out at her a few days ago, and New Year’s Eve, that was it. Before I left for work I packed up what I could, knowing I couldn’t stay there any longer and texted her to tell her I’d never be coming back.” I shrug as though that’s all there is to say about the topic.
“You said he passed when you were fifteen. How old are you now?”
I give him a watery smile. “I’ll be twenty-five in a couple weeks.”
I’d never tell him, but I looked him up online after my lap dance. I already know he’s thirty-one.
“What day is your birthday?”
When I tell him, he nods.
“What’s your plan then?” he asks.
I guess I’ve overstayed my welcome. Panic grips me on where I’ll go, but I play it off with a shrug. He said one night. I agreed to one night. Now it’s time for me to leave.
“Not sure. I’ll figure something out.”
He takes my hand. “Stay here.”
I shake my head. “I’ve already taken advantage of your hospitality. You don’t even know me, yet you let me spend the night in your home.”
“But I want to know you. That’s what I’m saying. And I need to know that you’re okay and have somewhere safe to live.”
“Nero, I appreciate the offer?—”
“Please, Cinder. You have nowhere else to go, and as you can see, there’s plenty of space here.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Just until you’re back on your feet.”
“Nero, I don’t know…”
“Cinder, I’m not going to take no for an answer.” His voice is different. Usually, it’s deep and calm, reassuring. But now it’s as if he leaves no room for argument. He’s domineering and demanding, and I don’t hate it.
I nod. “Okay. Just until I figure something out.”
His entire countenance changes, and he relaxes back into his seat. “Good. I’m glad we have that squared away. Are you finished eating? I want to show you something.”
I pluck a grape off my plate and toss it in my mouth. “Yes, I’m stuffed.”
He slides out of the bench, and I follow suit. Without preamble, he takes my hand to lead me through the manor. I’m surprised by how natural it feels, how normal, and how good.
He leads me around, and once again I lose my sense of direction in this monstrous place. I spare glances at the expensive art that looks as if it’s been here for centuries, the soaring ceilings, and the arched and intricate windows that the light has trouble penetrating.
We pass a set of double doors that sit wide open, and I gasp when I see what’s inside and stop in the doorway.
Nero’s hand drops and gestures toward the doors. “Did you want to see the ballroom? It never gets used. Back when my parents were alive, my brothers tell me they’d have parties in there, but I don’t remember.”
“Do you mind?” I take a hesitant step forward.
“Of course not. Come on.” He walks into the room, and I follow.
My gaze bounces around, finding it difficult to take in all the grandeur. Stone columns flank each side, and once I pass them, I’m on the dance floor. The other side of the columns must be where people chat and sip their drinks during a party. Above me, the ceiling must be forty or fifty feet high and has painted motifs in each section. It reminds me of something you’d see in Europe from centuries past. Enormous glass chandeliers line the space, though they’re not lit. Light filters in through the huge windows on the far side of the columns.
I circle around, twirling with my arms out. “This is magnificent. I can’t imagine what it would be like to dance in here.”
I stop spinning, almost giddy, and look at Nero. His head is tilted, and he’s studying me.
“I’m going to guess that you enjoy dancing?”
My cheeks heat from not playing it cool. “I used to dance before my dad passed. After that, my stepmother wouldn’t let me. I loved it though.”
“You miss it.” He steps toward me.
I try to fight my frown, but I do. “That’s just one of many things I miss.”
“You’re welcome to use this space any time you like. Despite it never being used, the sound system has been kept up to date. You can just plug your phone in and play whatever you want. It’s all over in that corner.” He gestures behind me with his arm.
“Maybe.” The urge to rush over and put something on for me to dance to, just for me and no one else, is fierce inside me. It’s a stark reminder of everything Louise has taken from me over the years. With one last look around the space, I turn to Nero. “Now, what did you want to show me?”
He takes my hand, warmth spreading up my arm, and we leave the ballroom. “I don’t think it’s going to impress you quite as much as the ballroom just did.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure you’re wrong. This entire place is impressive.”
We walk for another minute or so before Nero leads me into a room, closing the door behind us.
“This is my aviary,” he says with pride in his voice.
The room is almost all glass walls with arched windows that match the architecture of the house. There are plants everywhere and perches set up for the host of birds. Their chirping fills the space.
“Wow, how many birds are in here?” I gaze at the glass ceiling and spot birds flying around.
Suddenly, a bird flies out of a nearby tree and lands on my shoulder.
I freeze, eyes wide and beseeching. “What do I do?”
Nero chuckles. “Nothing, just relax.”
Slowly I relax my shoulders, and they drop.
“He likes you,” Nero says. “He usually comes to me.”
I turn my head and see that the bird is mostly blue with a reddish-brown breast. “He’s really pretty.”
“That’s the Eastern Bluebird.” He smiles.
“Are they all this friendly?”
He chuckles and steps forward with his arm out. “Come on, buddy, I think you’re freaking poor Cinder out.”
As though the bird understands him, he hops down off my shoulder and onto Nero’s extended arm.
“What’s your favorite bird?”
He doesn’t even take a moment to think of his answer. “The raven.”
I think back to the stained-glass raven we pass coming in and out of the south wing. “What made you want to collect birds?”
He walks farther into the space. “I don’t think of it as collecting. I’ve always liked birds. Since I was young, after I took in a bird that had been injured in the wild. I cared for it and then others, one rescue after another. Ones who probably can’t go back out into the wild and survive and need someone to look out for them, protect them.”
I’m realizing there’s more to Nero than meets the eye. There’s a waver in his voice, almost as though he understands what it’s like to need protection.
“You’re a good man, Nero.” The truthful words escape my lips.
He lifts his hand, and the bird flies off. “You wouldn’t think that if you really knew me.”
I meet his crystal gaze. “I already do.”