Chapter 5
EVANDER
The fourth floor is where the short-term staff who stay at the castle live, anywhere from two nights to six months.
The few who are here longer have larger quarters on the upper floors, like Leopold, Percy and his mate, and the departments heads.
Each room is labeled with the staff member’s name next to it.
I wince because while most candidates don’t pick up on the names of the staff before they are gone, usually after a week or two at most, I don’t think Miss Raine is going to be the same as the rest of them.
There are five doors on this floor. And I really should have just gotten Percy to grab her bags.
“This is where some of the short-term staff stay, when they are only going to be in town for a few nights,” I explain, stepping in front of her and pivoting her back the way we came. There are only a handful of rooms left, and I’m sure one of them will still be labeled with her name.
“Pardon me for being rude, but may I look out that window down there?”
“We really should be getting to dinner.”
“Okay.” But then she steps around me. “There’s a staircase on this side too.
Won’t it be faster to go by . . .” She stops in front of a door.
I don’t have to read the label to know what she sees.
Her head cocks, and she opens the door. “Well, looks like I found my real room and my clothes.” She hasn’t stepped into the room.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the rooms up here.
I’ve stayed in a lot of places all over the world that aren’t that great.
Just last year, I had a choice between sharing a hotel room with Kieren or staying on a cot in the walk-in closet.
Damn straight, I took the closet. I’m going to have the rest of my life to sleep in the same room with him and Roark.
Every night I don’t have to listen to him snore or Roark complain about my “loud breathing” is a good night, in my opinion.
The staff rooms don’t have the same soaring ceilings or the view of the rear courtyard. This room has the traditional Crest Wing blue paint and a smaller bed than the one downstairs, but the frame is solid.
But Raine hasn’t looked around. No, she’s got a suitcase handle in each hand. “Before you say anything, I have some questions. A lot of them, actually, but let’s start with was I really hired to curate the art collection here at the castle?”
This doesn’t require a white lie, because jobs are created for all the candidates.
There was a dog walker, a French tutor, a chef, and a physical therapist. We still have the dog.
He follows Percy everywhere, but other than that, and the chef, we really do need an art curator.
It has been one of the most useful positions created.
She’s smart. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell her everything on day one. There’s a reason why we hire the candidates. And that’s not something she needs to know . . . maybe ever.
“I assure you, we have an art collection and it needs to be curated.” And if my dragon doesn’t connect to her, then her lightning won’t happen. Same goes for Kieren and Roark. The lightning can be instant, or it can take a hell of a long time. So simple yet complex at the same time.
“While I’m thankful for the upgrade, I feel this room is more appropriate for my title.” She runs her hand over the footboard.
“I see.”
“Good. Thank you.” She reaches for the handle of her suitcase, but I step in front of it.
“Are you the sort of woman who turns down upgrades often?”
“Only when they’re not deserved. I like to earn my own privileges.”
Fucking hell. She’s the sort of woman who would walk out on us if she learned she’s a candidate and her posting was created for her. “I can talk it over with the others. But dinner is waiting now.” I motion back to the hall.
She pauses, and her eyes flick from her bag to me, then to the hall. She steps forward but stops. “There are twenty-two other names on doors on this floor and four unlabeled rooms. How many people are on staff here?”
“Oh, that’s more of a Leopold question.”
“And what do you do at the castle?”
“I work outside of the castle. Not as a gardener. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a gardener.”
“I don’t know many gardeners who wear thousand-dollar suits, Mr. Slate.”
“It’s Evander,” I say. Because she is a candidate. A candidate whom the Crest Wing ancestral thought enough of to put in our mate’s room.
“Evander . . .” It’s like a warm caress to my chest. Maybe Leopold knows something after all. “We should be getting to dinner. Where I would love to hear all about what you do for a living. But first, I’d like to change into my own clothes.”
I open my mouth to tell her no, that her ass looks fucking fantastic in the power suit trousers.
My palms are itchy. No, we don’t sleep with all the candidates, but one thing is for sure: I’m done.
Miss Fischer is our last candidate when we send her on her way.
I’m telling Leopold to tell the witch the elders are working with to sod off; I’m done.
Maybe it’s that decision that’s made me so keen to let my eyes settle on Miss Fischer’s assets. I clear my throat.
“Unless we’re out of time? I wouldn’t want to make the other staff wait.”
“Ah, well, then we’re in luck. You’re invited to dinner with Kieren and myself.” No need to throw Roark into the mix when the likelihood of him showing up is next to nothing. “I’m sure he’s downstairs.”
“Kieren?”
“Kieren Alder, owner of Cloud Rift. Have you seen any of the papers?”
“Oh, I thought this was a staff dinner, not . . .”
I wait for her to continue. It’s a nasty trait I have—give people enough rope to hang themselves. And they do. Usually. But not her.
“Not a staff dinner,” she says. “Well, if wearing this is okay, we should go. I don’t want to keep the lord of the castle waiting.”
“Prince,” I say.
“Prince,” she repeats. “Of Switzerland?” I cock my head at her. “Where is this NDA?”
“After dinner.” I lead her out of the room, and my hand settles on the small of her back. My fingers are separated from her flesh by at least two layers of fabric, but still her heat reaches my hand. A rush pulses through me. It’s a flash. My dragon roars in my ears.
She moves into the hall. There’s an eagerness in her steps that takes her past the window she wanted to gaze out of a few minutes ago and down the stairs. Her feet bounce on the treads, and I trail after her. She must have felt something too.
She glances back at me, and momentarily, her pace picks up even more. Her hand slides down the banister on the landing, then her shoulders rise and she stops. “Are you okay?” There’s a tremor in her voice. A fear that would normally heat my fire. Not today, though. Today it makes me cold.
“Of course. Hungry, you know. Don’t you get hangry, Miss Fischer?”
“I suppose, but when I do, my eyes don’t change.” She continues down the stairs.
I smirk and give her a shrug. She’s holding on to the banister, but her eyes are on me behind her. “Watch where you’re going, Miss Fischer. I’d hate for your first night in the Alps to be spent in the hospital.”
She laughs. “I don’t break; I bounce. I’m flexible that way.”
Damn. I know what she means, but my dragon has other thoughts pushing at me. And I can picture all too well what my eyes must look like now.
Just a taste.
She’s not prey, food, or mate.
He chuckles. You know you want a taste.
“After dinner, you said?” Her foot hits the first floor at a section of the mosaic that tells the story of how some female dragons have some powers. Raine’s left foot rests on the snoot of a female shifter blowing poisonous gas over an enemy from another clan. She stops. “Where is the dining room?
“Around the corner, the closed, exposed door.” Behind the curtain is the door to Kieren’s office, and the hidden section of the foyer isn’t a door at all. “Let me.” I round her and open the door.
Kieren’s there in a black suit, his nose in his laptop, looking more like the CEO he is than his true inner prince. He doesn’t look up when I point out where she should sit.
Raine tucks her legs under the chair, and from the corner of the room, a valet appears, shaking the back of her chair from my hand and pushing her in. It’s the scratching on the floor that has Kieren looking up.
His scowl transforms his face from serious to furious in a flash. “You’re still here?”
There’s a long pause while he takes in what she’s wearing. The colors, the cut, the fabric. It’s a damn declaration. I should have let her change. She had the good sense to know she wanted to change even though she couldn’t understand why. Gut instinct’s what hovers on the earthly side of magic.
“What the hell are you doing in those clothes? And why the hell do you look like that?” My thunder mate glares from Raine to me.