Chapter 4
Chapter Four
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C ora
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M rs. Harnett looks at me disapprovingly, probably because I can’t handle the cold and am trembling uncontrollably.
“Ms. Anderson, your punctuality is noted,” Mrs. Harnett says in clipped tones. I don’t even know what that means. She slips her hands into a pair of gloves while continuing to scrutinize me.
“I’ve stocked the place up to our new masters' standards. You, on the other hand, will have to make do with what is left over. This is not a vacation. You are serving time for a crime your father dared to commit against the prestigious Nix Consortium; don’t forget that.”
She appears personally affronted, her lips pursing tightly and nostrils flaring as she looks down at me.
“Jasmine, stop yapping and show her around,” Mrs. Harnett instructs the other girl. “Chop chop. If you are not back by the time the helicopter arrives, I will leave you behind.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jasmine replies, grabbing my hand and dragging me along.
With every nerve in my body frozen solid and the images of the new heads of the consortium tattooed in my brain, I can only catch glimpses of opulence, luxury furniture, and priceless art as we pass through.
"They really weren't joking when they said the Anderson daughters are a sight to behold. You are ethereal. I just learned that word, by the way.”
Words fail me completely, so I don’t reply; all my energy is consumed by the question of what I’m going to do now. Thankfully, Jasmine doesn’t wait for a response before continuing.
"Okay, so this is your bedroom." She opens a door and pushes me into a room that is almost as big as a house on its own.
Thick white carpet, pastel-colored velvet curtains, and a four-poster bed so large it could easily sleep six people.
"The bathroom is through that door," she says as she takes my bag and puts it in a closet before grabbing my wrist, and we're off again.
"The main dining room is through there." She points in another direction, and my gaze takes in a crystal chandelier hanging low over a gleaming dining table.
"And this is the kitchen. There’s so much food in here,” she whispers.
“You can help yourself; don’t worry about Mrs. Harnett.
” She then points out the refrigerator, the pantry, where the dishes and cutlery are kept, how to use the coffee machine, and where the laundry and scullery are, just in case.
“And that's it.” She spins around to face me. She hasn't given me a chance to get a word in edgewise, and now her silence feels awkward between us until we hear a helicopter landing.
"That's my ride out of here," she says, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “Good luck, Cora.” She gives me a quick hug before heading out.
Not long after, I hear the helicopter take off, and a shuddering breath escapes my lips, which are possibly turning blue from the cold and foreboding.
How can my fate take such a twisted turn that I’m now facing a threat more dangerous than I ever thought possible?
The adopted sons of William Arlington are not kind, gentle men. I’ve heard stories about their ruthless methods that span across the globe. They’re merciless. Heartless. Men walk in fear of them. They deal in exacting vengeance with their bare hands.
And they’ll be taking that vengeance from me.
Think, I have to think. But my brain is scrambled, and I can’t settle on one definitive thought.
If I was confident I could do this before, I’m now 100% sure I can’t, and I don’t know how to change those odds. So I stand in the kitchen where Jasmine left me, my body rigid from the ice cold air, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst my eardrums.
How did I end up here? This wasn’t meant to be my life. I had dreams of becoming a pianist, getting into Juilliard, playing in the world’s most renowned halls, and traveling the globe.
Instead, my entire world changed when my mom died, and I had to take care of everything. I’m twenty-four now; my music dream died with my mom. It’s okay, though, because the most important person in my life now is my dad.
I would do anything for him. But I never expected this. Not them.
I swirl around in the large kitchen, with its modernized appliances melded into country charm. But the panic inside me continues to boil over.
Okay, no. I need to get a grip. First, I need to find the thermostat to turn up the heat. I don’t care what Mrs. Harnett says.
It doesn’t take me long to find the digital panel, but the touchpad screen is blank, and none of the buttons I press seem to light it up. Ugh. I jab my fingers into the display to no avail. I’m a minute away from sobbing my heart out, but I stop myself just in time.
Maybe I can build a fire, but I discard that idea immediately. I’ve never made a fire before, and it would be just my luck to burn the entire cabin down.
Plan B. I can’t stand here like a frozen bag of bones all day. Walking on stiff legs, I make my way back to the bedroom I was assigned.
How many layers of clothes will it take to warm me up?
I think all of them. I discard the coat Jasmine gave me, then start piling on thermal long-sleeve tops, a thick chunky sweater, and another jacket.
I conveniently brush aside the skimpy garments I was forced to bring along, which I had no intention of wearing because I had a plan, dammit.
And it would have worked perfectly if it were Mr. Arlington coming and not his three adopted sons.
I slip on another pair of socks, gloves, a hat, and a scarf. I can barely move, but at least I’m not shivering as much—maybe because I can barely move with all these layers on.
I sit down on the bed and weigh my options. I have none. Except for taking a walk out into the onset of a raging storm, risking walking off a cliff, getting eaten by a bear, or dying from the cold. To escape them, I’ve got nothing.
I tell myself I should get up and eat something. The last time I ate was twenty-four hours ago when I was told I was going to be the Andersons’ sacrificial lamb. I wouldn’t have been able to keep my food down if I tried.
But I need my strength, now more than ever. Even if it’s just some dry crackers, anything to line my stomach. But I don’t move. I can’t.
An hour goes by. The window for them to arrive at the cabin is diminishing fast.
What if they don’t show up? What if they decide the weather is too bad to risk and just stay where they are? It’s possible, very possible.
I wasn’t allowed to bring a phone with me—a consortium rule—so I’m completely cut off from the world.
My thoughts race as I envision what would happen to me if they decided not to come. I mean, Jasmine said they only took over their new roles this morning. In the grand scheme of things, would they even remember the pleasure debt?
I will need to remain here for the next three days, when a helicopter will be sent to pick me up.
Food won't be a problem; there's enough in this cabin to feed me for a year or more. I’ll have to figure out a way to make the thermostat work or start a fire. I’m sheltered, surrounded by luxury if nothing else, so I could easily wait this out.
I decide to give them one more hour. I lie down on the bed and close my eyes. With zero sleep the night before and an empty stomach, I’m sound asleep before I can finish my last thought.