Chapter 5
Ididn’t know why I’d expected a tour.
Cillian clearly wasn’t the welcoming sort, and after a quick gruff “here,” he swept out of the room, closing the door behind him.
The click of the door echoed through the room like the lock of a prison cell, and I strode up to the knob and twisted it, just to check I hadn’t been locked in.
Open. I sucked in a shaky breath. The reality of what had occurred hadn’t settled in yet, even though I had absorbed the facts of our meeting.
My hands still trembled from the adrenaline.
The lingering scent of Dad’s cologne remained, but I wasn’t sure if it was a phantom memory or an actuality.
I sagged against the door and viewed my surroundings.
My cage was a gilded one, though that shouldn’t be a surprise.
I surmised that anything in this part of the Spires would be decorated to the same degree as the rooms I’d seen so far.
The goth-chic motif continued here, a purple comforter looking like a splash of bright color against the black bedframe, and the massive dresser and armoire the same obsidian shade.
The walls were a deep gray with pale-gray accents, and a large mirror faced the bed on the opposite side.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket, half expecting I’d be shut off from Wi-Fi access.
Curious, I clicked through a few webpages, and everything seemed to be in working order.
The urge to type out a message to my dad, to hit up my coworkers, rose in a real way, but I had the sinking suspicion that was too easy.
No wealthy casino owner would be negligent with the man he’d pressed into servitude for the next decade.
He’d given me no parameters, no inclination of what to expect from my new role, my new home, my new life.
Anxiety rushed through me like I’d stepped into a tub of menthol.
I dragged myself across the room and plunked down onto the bed, sinking into the mattress.
My mind whirled, and I curled my fingers into the plush comforter, but no amount of luxury could eliminate the fact my life had gone through such a major upheaval in a mere hour.
All I owned was the clothes on my back and what filled my messenger bag.
What made it even sadder was that I hadn’t left behind anything of consequence.
My reflection stared back at me in the mirror, as hopeless and helpless as I expected.
I’d inherited my father’s blond curls, and I’d had to buy fitted clothes since I landed more in the slender category and liked my clothes snug.
Yet I didn’t look put-together. No, the man who stared back had looked ruin in the eye and welcomed it in.
If I stayed in this room, I’d lose my mind far too quickly.
However, if I wandered around, would I invoke Cillian’s ire?
I stood from my spot on the bed, needing to roam.
He hadn’t stated I was confined to my room, so I’d err on the side of ignorance if caught.
Anything was better than sitting in this box and letting my reality melt into place.
I slid my phone into my pocket and dropped my messenger bag on the ground, as if the motion would somehow make this room feel more like mine.
Tall order. Pressure rose inside me, like a balloon ready to pop, and I bolted for the door.
A few steps down the hallway and I could breathe again.
If I could keep moving, maybe I could ignore the fact I was actually confined.
The hallway looked as dim and dark as before, but I didn’t have Cillian’s oppressive presence around at least, congesting the corridor even more.
I drank in the crispness of the shadows and crept forward, making sure to keep quiet.
How far did this upper area stretch out?
If it was half as large as the casino below, guaranteed it’d be sprawling.
I snapped a quick photo of the corridor, particularly the location of my new bedroom, and then continued on.
When I reached the end of the hall, I turned right, heading down a similar stretch of muted lights and dark, ominous doors.
Truthfully, at this point, Cillian was coming across a bit edgelord or drama queen with the amount of black splashed around the place.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep it from escaping.
A bit farther down this corridor, light spilled out into the hallway from an open door.
My curiosity drove me forward. I’d tried to beat the trait into submission years ago, but then I’d chosen the career of librarian, which had allowed it to grow and blossom.
A jaunty whistle came from the open door, and I drew closer, slowing my pace.
Moving kept me from breaking down, though, so I’d keep going. That had been my strategy through life, and while it hadn’t always served me the best, I’d survived. More than I could say for many in Peregrine City.
When I reached the edge of the door, I paused. Who else resided up here? I was utterly in the dark, and not just due to Cillian’s dismal décor choices.
I sucked in a breath and peered around the corner.
The room looked to be another meeting suite similar to the one he’d taken me to—honestly, what did one demon need with this many rooms?
—and a tall figure was wiping a cloth over the table, his back to me.
The song he whistled tickled at my memory, not because it was a sweeping classic, but I could swear it was some pop hit the radio had played on repeat ten years ago.
I rapped against the doorframe so I wasn’t just gawking in like a creeper, and he whirled around.
The man was exceedingly tall, dressed in casual jeans and a T-shirt, a far stretch from Cillian and Amelia’s formal attire. His glossy dark brown hair swept across his forehead, and when he caught sight of me, a broad grin split his lips.
“Well, well, we’ve got a visitor here?”
“More like a new resident,” I said, leaning against the doorframe to keep myself up at this point.
The man lifted a brow as well as his cleaning rag. “Lia never mentioned anyone new coming on board.”
“Just happened,” I said, my throat far too dry with nerves. “I’m Cillian’s new personal assistant.”
He dropped the rag. He quickly collected both the rag and his jaw from the floor, then he strode toward me. “I wasn’t informed of this development yet, but I’m Charles. I’ve been working for the bossman for a long time.”
“What do you do for him?” I asked, even though one of the answers was clear from the rag in his hand.
“I’m his cleaner,” Charles said, but based on the shift of his tone and his pointed look, that wasn’t all his role was comprised of. However, his features relaxed, and his smooth grin placed me at ease.
“Don’t suppose you’d know what he expects of his personal assistants?” I asked. Charles seemed to be the first friendly person I’d met in this casino, and I’d grasp onto anything right now. My feet were a little unsteady, so I leaned harder against the doorframe.
“Well, that’s a question I have as well,” he said, striding closer. “I’m assuming he dropped you off and rushed away? The peak of social skills, that one.”
I snorted, and relief flushed through me for a moment. A single friendly face was enough to latch onto. “Does he not often employ personal assistants?”
“Not for the past seven years he hasn’t,” Charles said. “Do you have a special skillset?”
For the life of me, I hadn’t been able to figure out why he didn’t just send me to the Pits like he’d planned to do with my father.
“Considering he didn’t grill me on that, I’m not sure. I’m a librarian by trade,” I offered, crossing my arms to keep them from trembling.
Charles flashed me a grin. “Well, I’d say that’s a useful trade to be in. Have you eaten yet? Why don’t we find you something and hunt down Amelia. Surely she’ll have answers. She always does.”
My stomach grumbled as if on cue. I’d eaten earlier, but with the ball of fear and worry gnawing at my gut, I hadn’t been able to stomach much.
Not like the anxiety had disappeared, but given my fate was sealed, and my mind hadn’t fully processed the bomb dropped on my life, the prospect of any sort of meal appealed to me.
Well, anything but apples. Hated the fuckers.
“Thank you,” I said, the slight rasp in my voice betraying how much the simple kindness meant. My insides were still fuzzy, numb from everything that had occurred, but I wasn’t ready to face reality yet either.
“Follow me,” he said, slipping past me and heading to the right, deeper down the corridor.
He cut a quick pace with those long legs, and I hastened to keep up, our footsteps echoing through this cavernous place.
How did one person need this many rooms?
While I could admit after growing up with the bare minimum that the occasional bit of opulence enticed, this seemed ridiculous, even for a larger-than-average demon.
Especially since he didn’t seem to entertain very often.
“Does he sleep in a different bedroom every night?” I wondered aloud. My shoulders tightened. Fuck, I’d gotten too comfortable. This was Charles’s boss I was talking about.
A bark of laughter exploded from Charles. “Oh god, that’s fantastic. The size of the place is a bit much, yeah? A hotel’s worth of rooms lying there empty. Trust me, they don’t remain so.”
Curiosity flared through me yet again. I knew so little about Cillian Ashmore, only the highlights I’d read about online, which were either superficial or swirling with rumors. Yet I’d be living in his home for the next ten years, working with him in close quarters.
“Okay, here.” Charles slowed in front of stainless-steel double doors, the porthole windows revealing the lights on inside.