32 - Jocelyn
~ 32 ~
JOCELYN
Breakfast was controlled chaos; a streamlined jumble of pots and pans, of heat and wind and ovens opening and closing all around me. Side-stepping my trio of chef lovers was no small task, as they whirled to attend to everything simultaneously. They pulled out trays of biscuits, platters of bacon. Yet somehow there were also made-to-order omelets with dozens of different ingredients, all for men who were used to getting exactly what they wanted.
It was so busy that Evelyn neglected to side-eye me, even when I was accepting finished plates directly from Kayden. It should’ve felt strange, working alongside three men who’d taken turns sharing my bed mere hours ago. Instead, it gave me a feeling of satiation and superiority over the hungover brunette. It was growing more obvious that she was rapidly losing control, if she had any to begin with. But after last night with the boys, I’d been imbued with a confidence that, together, we could get anything done.
As the morning progressed, the Founders didn’t show up at the table. Either they’d chosen to sleep in, or they had much more important things to attend to. Raif stomped the hallways at double speed, punching his tablet, no doubt readying for the arrival of Roman Wynter. By lunch, the security around the manor was doubled. Everywhere I went, no matter what I was doing, I felt multiple pairs of eyes on me the whole way.
I returned to my room shortly after the lunch service, bone-weary but still charged with adrenaline. I’d kept my head on a swivel throughout the day. There were things I needed to tell the guys, important things, and the sooner I got to them, the better.
But first, a hot shower.
It was literally on my itinerary, believe it or not. In the hours before the all-important dinner service, I was to rest, shower, and change into the serving outfit for tonight. That outfit already hung in my closet, not far from my immaculately made bed. I wondered who had the unfortunate job of changing last night’s sheets. And whether or not that person noticed those sheets had been seriously, thoroughly fucked in.
The steam-filled shower felt baptismal, as I washed away the morning’s hustle and bustle. Clean and dry, I debated relaxing on my bed for a few minutes hoping one of the guys would find me. After just five minutes, I couldn’t sit still. I hopped up, slipped back into the outfit I’d just taken off, and used my keycard to throw open the door.
I was halfway through when I bumped into someone and screamed.
“OhmyGOD!”
Victor Knox stood in the doorway, leaning casually, both arms raised over his head. He smiled down at me and extended the same hand as before.
“Jesus, Emily,” he chuckled. “You really should watch where you’re going.”
Heart still in my throat, I allowed him to help me up. He looked me over, taking in my outfit.
“And where are you going in such a hurry?”
“Dinner service,” I lied immediately.
The big man grunted. “A bit early for that, no?”
“O—Obviously,” I stammered. “But the chefs are still behind from lunch, and I’ve been asked to help prep—”
“Yeah, I don’t believe any of that,” Victor snorted. His shrugged his way through another reptilian grin. “But whatever. Dinner service later. For now, you’re coming with me.”
He said it so casually, like me following him into the hallway was a forgone conclusion. I took two steps and hesitated, feeling queasy. Kayden’s words of warning echoed sharply in my mind:
Whatever you do, stay away from him.
“Let’s go,” Victor urged, annoyed that he had to stop and turn around. He cleared his throat, gruffly. “I need to show you something.”
“Show me something… where?”
I didn’t really expect an answer. So I was surprised when I got one.
“Out back. In the garden.”
He started up again, and this time I fell into step behind him. If there was anything new to learn; any kind of information I could gather in regards to tonight, I should probably gather it. Besides, there was something about this man that told me he wouldn’t accept the word ‘no’.
It was liberating, to be able to walk freely through the manor again. We encountered security in three different hallways, but with Victor leading me, no one even batted an eye. Down the stairs we went, eventually passing through the ballroom on our way outside. Bruschetta Joe was in his usual spot behind the bar. He looked up and shot me a worried glance, but I shook my head curtly, and he went back to whatever he was doing.
Outside, the weather was crisp and clear, the sky a vast stretch of unblemished blue. Victor led us through the gardens, past the security perimeter, and out along the path by the lake. This had been my jogging circuit, almost every morning I’d woken up here. My stomach constricted a little, as I wondered if he somehow knew it.
“Where are we going again?” I repeated.
Victor answered without turning around. “For a stroll.”
“By the lake,” I mused.
“Yes.”
Each successive step brought us further from the house, making me more and more uneasy. Eventually I turned and risked a look back. The mansion was so far away now, I could barely even see it.
“Is this a romantic stroll?” I ventured, adding a laugh. It came out nervous on purpose.
“No,” Victory chuckled. “Not even a little bit.”
I swallowed, dryly. With the more obvious intention out the window, his answer seemed ominous.
“But—”
“Oh honey, don’t worry,” Victor grunted, picking his way forward. “You’re not my type.”
A few steps later he stopped and turned, and I almost bumped into him. His gaze was piercing, as he regarded me with a crooked smile.
“You’re beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Gorgeous, even. Let’s just say you don’t have the right equipment.”
His eyes flitted down and up, and then he was walking again, leading me further from the house, further from safety. Further away, into what I knew to be nothingness.
“I… should probably get back,” I told him. “Tonight’s extremely important. If everything isn’t—”
The path turned a corner, and then I saw. The rest of the words died in my throat.
“Emily,” Victor said by way of introduction, “this is Jacob Foley.”
The man was standing a little bit off the path, staring out over the lake. He turned, smiled, and approached with his hand extended.
“Hello, Emily.”
My stomach lurched. Every warning bell or silent alarm I’d ever known; was now being tripped in my brain. He took my hand, even though I hadn’t offered it, and shook it with a palm that was simultaneously moist and cold.
“Pleased to finally meet you.”