Chapter Ten
Annalise
Riley was gone when I woke up. I blinked my eyes, trying to clear the grit, and rolled out of bed, heading straight for a hot shower. I hadn't slept well. No surprise. I'd lain awake long into the night, listening to Riley breathe and wondering if he was awake.
Wondering if he was thinking about the same thing I was—rolling over and touching my fingers to his skin, sliding those fingers down beneath the waistband of his pajamas and wrapping them around the thick, hard cock waiting there.
If his thoughts were anywhere close to mine, he probably hadn't slept any better than I had. I washed my hair, shaved my legs, and gave myself a firm lecture.
Riley is here for a job.
That's all you are to him.
A job.
If you sleep with him, you’ll get your heart all tangled up again. And when he leaves, you’ll be destroyed.
What had he told me that first day? It was time to look out for myself. Sleeping with Riley was not looking out for myself.
I knew all of that was true. I did. Really. And it wasn't just lust. It wasn't just that he was hot. He was Riley. My Riley. I'd fallen so hard for him and missed him so much when I'd left. Having him this close after all these years was like being on a diet surrounded by chocolate.
I needed to keep focused. I needed to remember who he was.
Not mine.
That's all I really needed to know.
Riley was not mine.
And if he wasn't, there was no need to bother with makeup or doing my hair.
I wasn't trying to impress him, right? I pulled a comb through my wet hair without drying it, but I did stop for a minute to put on eyeliner and mascara.
I looked tired enough without foregoing makeup completely.
My favorite pair of jeans and a T-shirt later, I was ready for breakfast.
Aiden and Gage were long gone, but Sophie and Amelia looked like they had just sat down at the table when I arrived. I grabbed a seat opposite them and reached for the coffee decanter.
I needed coffee. A lot of coffee.
If we got the go-ahead to leave the house, I planned to talk Riley into taking me to Annabelle's. I needed another one of those mochas, and Annabelle had a way with chocolate.
I looked up from my steaming mug to see Riley in the doorway of the dining room, his dark hair wet.
He must have been in the gym and used the shower down there.
I caught sight of his arms, the swell of a vein running along his bicep, and tried not to think about Riley working out.
Riley sweating. Riley taking off his shirt.
Down, girl. No Riley, remember?
I usually had more self-control than this, but the instinct to touch Riley was ingrained long ago. Overriding it was proving harder than I’d expected.
Mrs. W came in, her usual starched white apron tied over a dark dress, and stopped beside me, patting the back of the chair next to me for Riley. He slid into it and grinned at me. If he'd been up half the night, it didn't show.
"Are you two all right with the buffet or would you like Abel to make you something?"
"The buffet is great, thanks," I said, reaching for my coffee again. As long as the coffee kept flowing, I didn't really care what I ate. Everything Abel made was good.
"I'm good too,” Riley said. Then, sniffing lightly, he said, “What smells like chicken soup?"
A low growl sounded above me. Mrs. W’s teeth were gritted, her eyes narrowed as she shot a deadly glare across the table, right at Aunt Amelia. I looked between them, surprised to see Aunt Amelia's guilty expression as she dropped her eyes to the floor.
What was going on?
Riley, always good at picking up subtext, caught the tension immediately and dropped the subject, saying, "I'm starved."
We both got up and went to the buffet, aware of Mrs. W leaving the dining room as quietly as she'd come in. I scooped scrambled eggs on my plate as Sophie said from behind me, “You are in so much trouble."
I grabbed some bacon and a biscuit and made my way back to my seat, more interested in the drama than the food. Picking up a piece of bacon and crunching in I said to Sophie, “Why? What did she do?"
Amelia took a sip of tea and ignored me, studying the Persian carpet with far more attention than it called for, especially considering it had been here when she'd been a girl. By now, she should have the pattern memorized.
Sophie leaned forward and said, “She saw this prank on-line where you put a piece of bullion in someone's shower head.
I told her I wouldn't help her with it. I have no idea how she managed to get in and out of Mrs. W's place and mess with the shower head without anyone knowing, but she did. Mrs. W is not happy."
"I may have gone just a little bit too far," Amelia admitted. She nibbled a piece of bacon and shrugged one shoulder. I couldn't remember the last time she’d looked embarrassed or apologetic.
Amelia made her choices and stood by them. Regret was not in her vocabulary. "It seemed like it would be so much funnier than it is. But the bullion soaked into her hair, and it seems that it's very hard to wash out."
Amelia sank her teeth into her bottom lip, and I had the troubling thought that she was fighting a smile.
"If Mrs. W catches you laughing, you may not get a decent meal for the rest of your life," Sophie hissed under her breath. "And you have a few decades on Mrs. W. She will outlive you."
"Aiden won't let her starve me," Amelia said, with less confidence than I would've expected.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Sophie said, darkly. "Aiden adores you, but he also adores Mrs. W., and you know it. If I were you, I'd consider a heartfelt apology."
Amelia harrumphed and chewed her bacon. I shook my head. Mrs. W and Amelia had never gotten along, but I had to agree with Sophie. Dousing Mrs. W in chicken soup was going too far. And despite Amelia's protests, no one in this house would hold Mrs. W back if she wanted revenge.
Thinking to change the subject I said, "Is everything set for the wedding? Do you need help? We haven't gotten cleared to leave the house, but I can pitch in around here," I offered.
Sophie and Gage's wedding was on Saturday, only a few days away. It was small, but I couldn't imagine they were ready.
Sophie shrugged one shoulder and smiled. "Actually, there really isn't anything to do. Mrs. W said she has everything under control. We got Charlie's wedding planner, and she organized all the details with the music and the pictures."
"You're very relaxed for a woman who's getting married in four days," I said. I had a feeling if it were my wedding I'd be running around with a clipboard double-checking everything.
Sophie gave a small, blissful smile and said, "I'm marrying Gage," as if it were just that simple.
And maybe, for her, it was. She went on, “After my first husband, I never thought I'd fall in love. I never imagined a man like Gage. I don’t want a big fussy wedding.
I just want to marry Gage, in the gardens with the peonies in bloom and our family around us.
That's my dream wedding, and fortunately, it's very easy to throw together.
A little music, some flowers—Mrs. W assures me it's not much more than a dinner party, really. "
"If you're sure," I said, a little deflated at the idea that there wasn't anything to do. Looking beside me to Riley I said, "Can we go out today?"
Shaking his head, he said, “I’m waiting for a call from the office. Maybe after that. Why, you getting restless?"
I nodded. My usual MO was to take off when the stalker knew where I was. Maybe it hadn't worked out very well, but at least it gave me the illusion of action. Packing up my stuff and taking off, finding a new job, a new place to live, put me in control.
I knew I was safe here in Winters House, but I was also bored.
Leaning forward, Amelia said, "I've got a project for you."
I narrowed my eyes at her. "I'm not doing anything that's going to get me in trouble with Mrs. W. I like my food. And I love Mrs. W. You're on your own."
Amelia scowled at me. "I'll apologize, all right? But this isn’t a prank. I promise. I want you to help me find the other hiding places in the library."
I'd completely forgotten about those. Earlier in the year, during the winter, there'd been a few break-ins at the house. The intruder hadn’t been caught, though the Sinclairs had discovered how they were getting in. They’d set a trap, but the intruder had never returned.
During the last break-in, we’d discovered what they were trying to steal. A box of letters to my mother from an unnamed lover, someone—according to the dates—she'd been with before she'd started dating my father.
Someone she'd been dating not long before she gave up a child for adoption. A boy. My brother. A brother we hadn't been able to find.
The Sinclairs were working on it, but the last I'd heard they were starting to suspect their father had a hand in hiding both the child and the identity of the father. At the very least, it hadn't been a normal adoption, or they would've found my long-lost brother already.
Even weirder, the letters to my mother had been in a box that had belonged to my father, in a secret compartment in the library that was apparently common knowledge in the older generation of Winters.
One of those things our parents had probably meant to pass along to us at some point, not realizing they’d never have the chance.
According to family lore, there were three secret hiding places in the library.
The intruder had known about one, at least, and during the break in to retrieve the letters had revealed it to us.
Amelia vaguely recalled the other two, but she'd left Winters House long ago, and her memory of the secret compartments was foggy at best.