25. Snow
Chapter twenty-five
Snow
After breakfast, I make a start on my chores.
The first wing I begin with is Moth’s.
He’s the only family member I haven’t met yet, I muse as I knock on the door to his wing. I hope he isn’t another jackass.
Knowing my luck, he will be a jackass.
When no one replies, I peer up and down the hall, finding Saint watching me silently at one end. He chomps on a juicy red apple, raising a pale eyebrow at me.
He has been given strict orders from Prince to watch me at every turn, and it’s clear that the boss doesn’t trust me.
As if the gun to the head wasn’t enough indication, I don’t know what is.
I am not allowed keys into their wings.
Saint grins that devilish smirk, wiping juice from his lips, and I roll my eyes. “I can’t get in.”
His grin becomes serpentine now. “Then, knock louder, robin .”
Robin?
Shaking my head, I peer up at the door, shutting my eyes.
This is stupid.
Saint chuckles, and then he saunters up the hall, finishing the last of his apple as he slips a keycard from his pocket. Then he presses it onto a keypad, and my eyes widen.
How modern.
Saint pushes the door, and that snakelike smile doesn’t leave his face. “Word of warning... Moth can be quite temperamental.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to your cousin-slash-boss. I think I can handle myself.”
Saint pauses at my proclamation, stopping a moment to consider me, and is that admiration I see in his eyes?
I learned earlier that he is Prince’s cousin.
Hunter and Moth are Prince’s younger brothers, and Knight, Casper, and, of course, Angel , are Saint’s siblings.
I also learned their family name. Diamante does ring a faint bell.
Perhaps I did meet their father at some point and just forgot.
“Moth is a different breed, so you should still be on your best guard.”
I pick up my bucket with its cleaning supplies, ignoring the warning. “Why is he called Moth?”
Saint shrugs. “That’s just what he prefers to be called. Why are you called Snow?”
I sigh. “Fair enough.”
Saint grins and shoves the door wider. “Just be as quick as you can and don’t linger. He never lets any of us in his wing, so I doubt he’d make an exception for you, robin.”
“Duly noted,” I reply, entering the wing at last.
Well, at least it shouldn’t take me too long to clean.
This place is already spotless.
My gaze lands on a lounge with a large-screen TV and then on a wall of knives.
Of course.
I forgot what kind of men I was dealing with there for a moment. I start scrubbing a table.
No dust whatsoever, and it looks like Moth knows how to keep up with this place.
I check all the other rooms, and they are spotless, too.
It's only the room at the end that’s locked.
When I return to the lounge, I stop.
There’s a sketchbook tucked away behind a cushion on one of the suede couches, and looking left and right, I tiptoe across the plush carpet and pull it out.
I double-take.
The first page contains the sketch of a brunette girl.
And she looks a lot like me…
“Hey.”
Fumbling, I tuck the sketchbook back behind the cushion again, whirling around.
Onyx eyes meet mine, and my heart drops when I spy the hatred that leaks from those black irises.
So, this is Moth.
He's shirtless, and I avert my gaze, pretending that I didn’t spy his sculpted chest with its myriad of tattoos.
Especially the big one between his pecs of a man with moth wings and glowing white eyes.
Instead, my gaze falls on his hair. It’s long, black, and tied back in a loose ponytail, and it’s almost as dark as mine.
Well, almost.
When he steps into the light, I spy a brown cast to that blackish hair.
My hair never goes brown in the sunlight. It stays perpetually black, like the nighttime sky.
It's not just Moth’s hair that has a brown tinge, but his eyes, too, now that I look a second time, and that’s when I spy little flecks inside his dark irises.
They almost shine gold.
He folds his arms across his chest, hiding that moth tattoo from my eyes, and his gaze snaps quickly to the cushion where I hope I hid the sketch properly.
His face hardens, and then he looks at me with a scowl that’s enough to rival Prince’s.
Great, just what I need...
Another asshole who despises me.
“You must be Snow.”
A shudder rushes through me. His voice is enough to frost the air between us, and I’m pretty sure I spied my breath for a moment.
I gather my thoughts, trying to be cordial as my Mama taught me. “And you must be Moth. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I hold out a hand.
His onyx eyes with the golden streaks remain on my face, and my hand drops.
I guess he’s not a fan of handshakes.
Moth was absent for breakfast, and now I’m starting to think that the reason may have been because of me.
Like Prince, he hates me, and not only does he hate me, but he refuses to eat at the same table.
Does he despise me because of my father?
For what he did to theirs?
Moth stalks closer, jaw clenched as he keeps those arms crossed. “Are you done?”
I peer around the room.
There wasn’t much to clean in the first place.
“Yes.”
“Then get out.”
Wow. Harsh.
But I’m used to it. Just as I told Moth’s cousin, Saint.
A shame he has to be called Moth . I have always found the insects strangely cute with their big eyes and fluffy antennae.
There is nothing fluffy or cute about Moth.
Finally, I duck my head, grabbing my bucket of cleaning supplies. “I was just on my way out.”
I don’t mean to sound sharp, but I was just doing my job.
Prince hired me after all.
Maybe he can clean his own room, then. I won’t even try to open the unlocked door at the end of the hall.
I feel those hateful onyx eyes on my way to the door, and I don’t relax until I am safely out in the hall.
Saint is standing on the other side, chewing on another red apple, and where does he hide them?
“I take it by that shitty expression on your face that you’ve finally met Moth?”
I brush past him with a sigh, carrying my bucket. “Just take me to the next wing, please.”
I have six more to clean after all.
Saint is still chuckling to himself as he follows me down the hall. I’ve really got my work cut out with this lot.