Chapter 19
RAINE
Iate as quickly as I could. Rapidly enough that I’m on my way out the door when Leo comes out of the butler’s pantry. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Yes, but I really need to get started. I’ll get it later, if that’s okay? Thank you.” I smile.
“I’ll bring some to you shortly.”
“Oh, it’s okay. It’s a long walk. But—”
“I insist.” He smiles at me.
“Okay. See you in a while.” I wave and head to the south wing to the vault. Which isn’t so much a vault as a former banquet hall.
I push open the door. It feels like home already.
That’s weird, right? It’s hard to believe I was here yesterday.
It feels like so long ago. I long to talk to my sister.
I was really hoping they’d find my phone and would leave it out for me in the dining room or hanging from my doorknob.
I tried the “find my phone” button on my watch, but nothing.
It’s okay. I’ll see about going into town later today to get a new one.
I flick on the lights and open the blinds.
It’s not good for the art, but I need it today.
I’m going to need all of Wren’s grounding tips.
I flick the separate lights on in the alcove, but something’s different.
There’s a bag next to the computer. I open the paper handles.
Inside is a box with the latest phone. No, it’s not the latest phone—it’s the one that’s not released until September.
There’s a note written on a small piece of paper taped to the top of the box.
Dear Raine,
I am beyond sorry. We found your phone. It was destroyed. But the techs in Zurich were able to retrieve your data and put it on this new one.
Kieren Alder
And there’s a loopy pattern underneath his name that looks like HRH.
Hmm. I glance at my watch in my pocket: it’s eight-thirty. Zurich is two hours away by train. They have wings, Raine. A shiver takes over me. Wings. Right. But it’s eight-thirty.
The door opens behind me. “It’s eight-thirty,” I say, holding the box in front of me like that will clarify why I announced the time.
“You are correct,” Leo says, placing the tray on a beautiful table pushed against the wall.
There’s a clear-glass-front mini fridge on a stand next to it.
Glass bottles of water and sparkling seltzers are displayed inside.
On the stand across from my desk, the printer is set up.
And I’m guessing when I start my computer up, I’m going to find it’s working.
The rest of the office has been tidied as well.
“How did anyone get the data off my phone, let alone so early?”
“When a Crest Wing dragon shifter wants something, they get it.”
“Rich people.” It’s something I and the other baristas used to say. It was mildly amusing to me to begin with because growing up, I didn’t think of my family as rich. It was only when I went to college and my circle of friends grew that I realized how lucky I was.
I should have expected it when my mother explained why they weren’t going to pay for my last year of college, that it wasn’t a good investment of their money since I’d never get a job that would pay enough to cover the degree.
I went against their wishes, pushed them and reinforced their assumption that I’d never amount to much.
Wren begged me to go back and get my major changed. She’d majored in nursing, all the while knowing she wanted to be a flight attendant so she could see the world and travel. “Make it your own. Just tell Mom and Dad you want to work in finance. Your grades are good enough.”
I miss Wren already, and it hasn’t even been four days since I saw her last.
I put the box down on the table and pick up the coffee cup. “How do you deal with them, Leo?”
“Rich people or the gentlemen of the house?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Well . . . it’s just in me, I suppose.”
“Are you happy with that?”
“Very much, Miss Fischer.”
“And you’ve never thought about leaving?”
“Never. Cloud Rift and Crest Wing are my home now. And they have been for a long time.”
“You’re good at your job.”
“Merci.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s obvious. I’m sure the gentlemen of the house appreciate you.” I take another sip of his amazing coffee. “And this is fantastic.” I set it on the tray.
“It’s an honor to serve you, Miss Fischer. Lunch is at noon. Unless you would like me to bring it to the eastern patio?”
“Outside . . . Yes, but I can come and—”
Leo cocks his head, a light smile at the corner of his lips.
“Thank you, Leo.”
He turns to leave.
“Leo?” I say once he’s out in the hall.
“Yes, Miss Fischer?”
“How come . . . how come you’re the only staff member who talks to me?”
He nods. “Yes . . .”
I’m not sure he’s going to continue.
“That is a question for Mr. Alder. It has nothing to do with anything you’ve done. It’s customary for one in your position.”
“They’re not allowed to talk to me? But why? I won’t keep them from doing their work.”
“I wouldn’t imagine you would. From my observation, you have a strong work ethic, one that I appreciate.”
It’s a great compliment, one that means a lot coming from someone like Leo. “You are really good at your job.”
His face lights up, the heavy wrinkles lifting for a moment. “Why, thank you for noticing.”
“And this is the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
He inclines his head and heads to the pantry but then pivots. “I will have a word with the other staff and let them know they are allowed to exchange pleasantries with you.”
“Ah, thank you again.” I leave my phone in the box and get to work.
But I can’t help wondering what Leo meant by someone in my position.
I shake it off—I’ve got supplies to buy with Kieren’s black card.
I hold it up to the light. I’ve only heard about things like this in movies.
What does it even mean, being a black card?
When the internet and I are done with our little chat and I pick up my jaw from my desk—a black card is definitely a real thing, a real thing with no credit limit—I get to ordering.
Shelving, conservation materials, premade software for collections that’s better than the spreadsheet I set up.
I don’t go overboard. I’m really not sure how I feel about a certain one of the gentlemen, but I’m not going to take it out on his credit card.
Or am I? I mean, it’s not like I’m buying a bottle of Cristal and caviar or diamonds.
It’s materials to keep his collection from rot and destruction.
I throw in a few things that I don’t need and stare at the cart.
I remove a bunch of it and then stare more.
I see his massive claws coming at me, feel my heart racing, sticking in my throat.
I put it all back and hit purchase before I chicken out.
I jump from the seat and take a few steps back like an alarm is going to ring, blasting through the castle.
“Miss Fischer.”
I flinch.
“Oh, forgive me. I’m so used to the gentlemen hearing me when I enter a room. Would you like to have lunch now?”
“Holy crap, how did it get to be that late? Yes, thank you.”
“Do you know how to get to the garden?”
“Where the maze is?” I hold my voice firm.
“No, the other side. There’s a terrace on the opposite side from the car park. I can walk you there.”
“Um, no, that’s okay. I’ll find it on my own.”
“If you’re sure?”
I nod and smile, grabbing my notebook and the bag my phone came in before heading out.
I follow the hallway past the bathroom I found yesterday. There’s more staff wandering the halls here. I smile when they see me. I’m clearly the new girl. Everyone’s friendly, but no one stops to chat. They all seem to have somewhere to be.
“This way to the eastern patio?” I ask a man around my age wearing a gardening hat.
“Yes, you’re on the right track.” He waves at me as I pass.
Sunshine streaks in down the hall. I speed up because otherwise I’m going to end up a recluse who never wants to go outside again.
Face your fears. Wren’s talked to me about plenty of people who let themselves become paralyzed because of their fear of flying.
I’m not going to let myself become afraid of the beautiful gardens or moonlit nights.
And maybe there’s nothing wrong with a healthy dose of fear of two-ton, flying, fire-breathing, claw-wielding dragons.
Not helping, not helping.
What is helping is pushing through the door to the outside. It’s not boiling today. On top of that, it’s beyond gorgeous out here. The brick patio has a formal portico above it, with weeping wisteria vines hanging over the edges.
On a metal table is a tray containing a plate with a silver cloche over it.
Honestly, I usually skip lunch, but after last night, I figure I need to make the most of my day.
I’m still contemplating fleeing. But I need the job.
I need it not only for the money but because it will build my resumé.
It’s going to change everything. At least, that’s the mantra I keep repeating.
Before I start eating, I remove the phone from its box and turn it on.
There’s one of those indestructible cases on it and a screen shield.
When it powers on, the screensaver is a picture of me and Wren, but not the one with my last cup of coffee I made at the café, like it was on my old phone yesterday.
Again, I’m wondering about the personal boundaries of these guys.
There’s a couple of messages from Wren. I send her a picture of the garden and another of my perfect sandwich.
I inhale it and allow myself a good ten minutes of doomscrolling.
I unfriend and unfollow Jeff on every platform I use and a few I haven’t opened in ages.
Always use all the time you’re given for lunch—another Wren-ism.
I have another ten minutes, so I open my favorite art news site.
The headline reads: Largest collection of Monets sold to an unnamed buyer overnight in a private sale.
Details from a reliable source who asks to remain anonymous.
No. It’s not . . .