Chapter 39
RAINE
The gravel of the driveway crunches under my feet.
I should have stayed inside and worked on getting another row of paintings photographed, cleaned, and put away, but I’m so excited, I can’t think.
You would think I’d been away from Wren for months or years.
Heck, she’s been on trips that kept her away longer than I’ve been here.
But that’s her leaving me, not me leaving her.
Somehow, college was different when she was at school and I was still at home.
And then when I was at college and she was living in New York .
. . or maybe it’s this place. There’s a lot I want to tell her, and I can’t do it over the phone.
I’m not sure how she’s going to take it.
This job isn’t . . . I wasn’t chosen for it because I’m the best. I push the thought out.
It doesn’t matter. The fact is, I’m getting experience that there’s no other way I would have gotten.
I move from the bench near the side of the driveway with the view of the hill to one under a pagoda that leads to the backyard. It’s still warm but not as warm as two weeks ago when I got here. Five months, two weeks ticks at the base of my skull.
I’m on and off my phone until I push it into my lightweight pants’ pocket. It’s weird—I never thought I would wear the other clothes in the closet, but more and more are sneaking into what I put on in the morning, the pants being my favorite. They’re lightweight and soft, with huge pockets.
I’m too worked up to even scroll on my phone. And then I hear it: tires on the gravel. It’s odd how few cars come all the way up to the castle. The front end of a white, mid-sized, definitely-not-luxury car pulls into the circle, and I race for it. I tackle Wren the second she opens the car door.
“Hey!” I wrap her in my arms.
“Hey yourself.” She hugs me back and then holds me out by my shoulders. “Look at you. You’ve got style.”
“I had style before.”
“Yes, the style of shit left behind. It’s more than the European clothes, though. You look good. Like . . . Are you seeing someone?”
I silently gulp. “No . . .”
“That’s a complicated yes if I ever heard one.” Wren grabs the smaller of her two beaten-up black bags. “Is there somewhere I can get changed before we go off to the inn?” She smiles at me.
“You’ve never cared about going anywhere in your flight attendant uniform before. I know I said I want us to hang out in the village, but I’m not not going to show you Cloud Rift.”
“Cloud Rift—that’s quite the name.”
I nod.
“Is it okay to just leave the car here?”
“Yes. I asked Leo, and he said leaving your car here is no problem but that you should leave the keys in it in case Percy needs to move it.”
“Leo, Percy, and Roark, the hottie who texted Jeff. This place is just men?”
“Not exactly,” I say. I’ve seen a few female staff members. Not many, though. And just seen. Somehow, it hurts that they are leaving me alone. It’s gotten better now that Leo has told them they can “exchange pleasantries.” “Are you ready?” I take her hand.
“As long as you’re letting me inside, I can change later.” Wren takes her bag from my shoulder, puts it back in the back seat, and closes the door with her butt.
I grab her hand.
“Wait, I need to lock the car.”
“Trust me, you don’t.” I tug her away. I’ve thought hard about whether I should bring her in the side door or the front door.
It opens up onto a massive foyer with a formal dining room and a living-room-slash-ballroom on the other side.
I’ve yet to see anyone in any of the spaces.
The guys seem to live mostly off the foyer with the forbidden curtain.
But the side door is closer, more relatable.
Somehow, it feels more like home. I turn the cast iron lever and push the heavy door open.
“Whoa, this is amazing.” Wren’s heals click on the stones. Her hand runs along the stone walls. “It’s really medieval.”
“I think this is one of the older sections of the castle.”
“Curved stone stairs. So cool.” Wren steps up.
“Oh, let’s go the other way. Here, follow me.
” I hold my hand out for her. My muscles relax.
Having Wren here makes it all that much more real.
My college roommate hated when her friends from back home came for a visit.
She said it was like mixing oil and water.
But for me, Wren is always salad dressing.
She can blend wherever she goes. And she makes everything better.
I’m only the tiniest bit worried about what she’s going to think about the way and why I was brought here.
Through the back hallway, we emerge into what I think of as the dragon eye atrium. The curtain looms large. “Oh, there are a few rules. I’m not allowed to look behind the curtain.”
“Tell me you have.”
“No. And we’re not doing it now.” Wren takes a step toward it, but I pull her back to me.
“Absolutely not. This job is too important to me. You’re not going to get me kicked out of here.
” Although, I know now it’s the portal. But I’m not looking at it, and I’m not violating the NDA, not even for Wren.
“Okay. I can be a rule follower too. But just for you. Because I love my little sister.”
“I know you do.” I take her through the doorway to the stairs and up to my suite.
There’s a staff member coming down the center hallway. He inclines his head and mumbles, “Good morning,” before he scurries away.
“Have you made any friends?” Wren asks after he’s out of earshot.
“Yes, I guess.” I’m not sure I can count the guys as friends. But Leo? Yes, he’s a friend. “The house manager, Leo. He and I chat.”
“So Leo?” Wren wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Is an old man, but very nice.” I hold my hand on the knob to my room. I know my sister—she’s going to explode when she sees the suite. “He’s the one who sent you the NDA.”
“Right, tell no one about what I see in the castle. I signed it and sent it back. Don’t give me that look. I read things occasionally.” She pops her hand onto her hip. “But no one else other than Leo? I know that Europeans can be more closed off than people from home.”
“I don’t mind that. Last time I was home, it took me an hour to get away from people in the grocery store.
And I didn’t even know them. I had a ten-minute discussion with a Gen Z girl about broccoli and the proper way to cook it.
Aren’t they supposed to just be grunting and wearing black at that age?
Western Pennsylvania isn’t normal. The people are too nice. ”
“Fine. You might be right. But there’s a happy middle ground. I know you—you’re a workaholic, and I’m just afraid you’re going to lock yourself in a closet or basement for the next six months—”
“Five months, two weeks.”
“Excuse me. Five months, two weeks.” Wren wrinkles up her nose. “That’s a long time to be . . . well, alone. Unless you’re not alone?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“The other day I had a full two-minute conversation about how fast the grass was growing with the gardener. He thinks it’s going to be a snowy winter.
” I open the door, and Wren doesn’t disappoint.
One step into the suite and she screams. I’m laughing and closing the door with speed when the distinctive thudding of feet echoes down the hallway.