Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Bennett
W hen we reach the mansion, Cat rushes straight to Ezra and Kindra to tell them what happened, but she’s got part of it very wrong.
“No, that is not what happened,” I say. “I didn’t save your stupid life. I prevented you from getting your first kill. There’s a difference.”
Maverick steps forward and puts his arm around my shoulder. “I was there, and you definitely saved her life.”
“Bull fucking shit. That guy weighed maybe a buck. A buck ten if he needed to take a healthy shit.” I shake my head and laugh. “If he’d charged her, she could have stopped him with her pinky finger.”
“Bennett, my hero,” she says as she bats her long lashes over her bright blue eyes. She’s only doing it to annoy me for kill-blocking her.
“Fuck all of you.” I grab my bags from the pristine marble floor and head toward my room. If they want to live in a fantasy land where I saved Cat as a good deed, they can. I’m firmly planted in reality, and goodness never factored into the equation.
As I stroll through a mansion hallway drenched in fine art and fresh flowers—in fucking Alaska, mind you—I’m slightly taken aback by the level of grandiosity my brother has risen to. This rich-people shit ain’t us.
Our father, the illustrious Desmond Carter the third, has plenty of money. He probably wipes his ass with the stuff. His children, however, never see a penny. Or a birthday card.
Not that any of that shit matters to me. My mother taught me that you have to work hard for what you want in life, and she gives me a birthday card every year without fail, though I’m pretty sure one of the nurses helped out with the last one. She was going through one of her bad spells.
I find my room toward the end of a hallway. A large four-post bed dominates the back wall. A shimmering silver fabric creates a canopy over the top. It looks like something out of a period drama, and I hate period dramas.
A massive wooden dresser stands beside the bed. I pull some pants from my suitcase and open a drawer to put them away. That’s when I spot the small ceramic pineapple tucked inside, along with a note and a little hand towel.
Your room is right beside Cat’s. If you plan to fuck any fruit, please fold this towel and place it between the dresser and the wall so she doesn’t have to hear it. Unfortunately, I didn’t spot any pineapple on the shopping list, but I’m sure you’ll find something that will be just as appealing.
Ezra
This bitch.
I crumple the note and toss it on the floor. I love how everyone acts like they don’t have a weird fetish when I know for a fact they all do. If anyone ever creates an organization for the ethical treatment of fruit, I’ll reconsider my ways. Until then, I’ll fuck whatever I damn well please.
The tiny pineapple joins the note on the floor, and I busy myself with stuffing clothes into drawers. Ezra likes to hang his things, but not me. If the wrinkles in my dress shirts bother anyone, they don’t have to look at me. I’d prefer it that way.
An event schedule stands on the nightstand. It’s a step up from the pamphlets they offer at the summer excursion, and it actually looks like it was designed in this millennium. Then again, the odd 70s vibe is what made the summer retreat so unique. What does this winter shindig have to offer?
Snow, sub-zero temperatures, and Cat, that’s what. And I hate all of it.
None of that matters, though, because making that blonde’s trip the worst it can be will make up for the discomfort and misery. That’s what I kept telling myself on the freezing sleigh ride in.
After flopping down on the bed, I grab the event list from the nightstand. Just out of curiosity. I won’t be choosing which events I participate in because I’ll be the one tagging along this time. Wherever Cat goes, I’ll be hot on her heels to ensure she doesn’t get that first kill.
Just like the summer retreat, the events look innocent enough on paper. We’ve got a skiing lesson, cooking demonstrations, snowboarding, and curling, among other activities. What the paper doesn’t say is that most of these events will involve killing or maiming the Cattle.
There’s also the mandatory dinner on the first and last night, with the last night holding a black-tie requirement. God, I hate wearing a monkey suit. I’m a t-shirt-and-jeans kind of guy.
I check my watch. Several hours stand between me and a gourmet meal. I could take a nap to pass the time, but that won’t help the mild jet lag from a four-hour time difference. Which means I’ll need to find something to do.
The first day at the retreat is meant to orient the guests with their surroundings, so I’ll start with the mansion’s interior first and see how I feel. If I decide I need to venture into the winter wonderland—my version of hell—I’ll pop back to my room to change.
I step outside my bedroom and glance around. Cat’s door glares at me. I squash the urge to snoop around in her personal space, though I’ll probably cave eventually. If I find a flagpole, I’m not above running her skimpy drawers to the top of it. I never said I was mature.
Instead, I head down the grand double staircase. How ridiculous and utterly pointless. I hope I’m never rich enough to feel the need for two sets of stairs that lead to the same damn place.
“Need someone to show you around?” Maverick asks as I reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s standing beside my arch-nemesis as she stares up at him like he was the one who saved her fucking life. Not that I did. “Cat just gave me a quick tour, and she’s a great guide.”
“Sounds like a good time,” I say with a smile. “Why don’t you show me around, kitten ?”
“Please fucking die,” she says. “And don’t ever call me kitten again.”
She flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder, then turns back to Maverick as if I’m not standing here.
“I was serious about that tour,” I say. “I don’t know where anything is, and you seem to know everything, per usual.”
“Do you hear something?” Cat says to Maverick. “Sounds sort of like an annoying fly buzzing around a decimated pineapple.”
“Or an angry fly buzzing around a turd with some blonde hair poking from the top,” I say.
Maverick shifts his weight between his feet. “I think I’ll head to my room now. I...uh, need a nap before dinner.”
As Cat’s body deflates, I realize why they say someone looks like the wind has been sucked out of their sails. The girl shrinks before my eyes, her shoulders dropping and her smile fading. She watches him until he disappears at the top of the stairs.
“No worries, kitten . Now you’re free to give me the tour.”
Remembering I’m here, her face shifts from dejected to disgusted. The feeling is mutual.
“I’ll give you the tour on one condition,” she says. “Promise you’ll stop calling me that.”
I grin at her because she’s made this entirely too easy for me. “I absolutely promise to stop calling you that if you promise to show me around like a good little girl. And no sass.”
She takes a deep breath, and I try to keep my eyes away from her full tits as they rise and fall with the inhale and exhale. It’s like my brain and my dick are on two different wavelengths.
“Okay,” she finally says, “but you’d better not break that promise.”
“I don’t break promises.”
She thinks of a retort—I see the cunning in her eyes, the excitement at the prospect of a really good zinger—but her lips snap shut and she just says, “Follow me.”
Oh, this is going to be fun.
I’ll keep setting her up, and she’ll remain unable to knock anything down because she fears being called kitten. Why wasn’t this activity listed on the brochure? I’d participate every day.
She takes me to the kitchen first. Again, no expense was spared, as is evidenced by the gleam of silver no matter which direction I turn. Rich aromas greet my nose—lemon, dill, and braised meat. And judging by the scent, it isn’t human meat.
Chef Maurice stands by the stove, yelling at his subordinates for turning a stew into a soup. I didn’t know there was a difference.
“Let’s move on,” Cat says.
From there, she leads me to a library. “There’s a secret passageway in here,” Cat says as she takes a turn about the room. Her fingers light on a few book spines as she trails past. “I won’t tell you where, though.”
“Where does it lead?” I ask.
“Ask your brother if you want to know that badly,” she says. She gives me a sweet smile, then heads toward the door.
I stick out my lower lip in a faux pout. “Aw, come on. I’ve been nice so far. Can’t you show me which candlestick to pull to get the big hole to open up?”
There is so much content there, and she can’t use any of it. She can’t tell me to yank my own candlestick and see what happens. She can’t say the big hole is already open, and she’d love it if it closed. She can’t say any of it! All she can do is shake with the knowledge that her powers are useless here.
So she says nothing, turns with a huff, and hurries to the next room.
“This is the indoor pool.” She pushes a glass door and guides us into what may be the warmest room in the building—the natatorium. It’s like a sauna in here.
As I look around, I understand why. Tropical plants stretch toward artificial lighting, and I recognize those massive hibiscus leaves from the island. I guess Jim wanted a little bit of home here.
The large pool takes up most of the space, but a couple of hot tubs burble against a wall of windows that overlooks the snowy landscape. They likely add to the heat in the room. A bright purple light glows in each roiling tub.
“No sacrificial slab, huh?” I ask.
Cat shakes her head. “Not that I’ve seen.”
“While we’re here, why don’t we go for a dip?” I take off my shirt and drop it onto a small glass tabletop as her eyes widen.
She licks her lips and turns away. “I don’t have my swimsuit on, and...”
Her voice trails off because she can’t say what she wants.
“And? And you’d rather die than swim with me?” I prod. “You’d sooner drown yourself on dry land than share any body of water with the dirty fruit fucker ?”
“I take it you found Ezra’s note?” She tries to hide her smirk and does a horrible job. “He told me about it when you went to your room.”
I step closer to her, if for no other reason than to make her as uncomfortable as possible. I’m near enough that she should feel the heat radiating from my Florida-tanned skin.
“Oh, I found the note. Thank you for asking.”
When she turns and realizes we’re nearly touching, her features shift. She looks almost...scared. Her fingers quiver as she swipes a bead of sweat from her forehead.
“Personal space,” she whispers, but she doesn’t sound very sure of herself.
I step closer, and her fingers brush my chest. She lowers her hand and recoils as if she’s just jammed her fist into a roaring fireplace. Before she can dart away, I lean closer and brush away the hair that’s fallen over her forehead.
“My god, Cat,” I say as I lick my lips. “I never realized just how...”
She licks her lips, mimicking my action as she waits for me to finish the sentence.
I clear my throat. “I never realized how easy it would be to get under your thin skin.”
With a gravelly groan that is one-part scream, she swats my hand away and storms toward the door.
“Ah, ah, ah!” I call after her. “Remember our deal?”
She flings the door wide, then turns back to look at me. “Fuck the deal. You can call me whatever the fuck you want because for the rest of the trip, I’m staying as far from you as possible.”
The door slams behind her, and I have to applaud Ezra and Jim for choosing a good glass company. A lesser door would have shattered.
“Good luck with that, kitten,” I say with a smile. For the rest of this trip, my goal is to do the exact opposite. The more I’m around her, the more I can annoy her. Maybe I can even get her to leave early again.
With a spring in my step, I head back to my room to get ready for dinner. Let the games begin.