27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emma
The estate is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
The richest person I know personally is Parker, and he never talks about it.
He should have prepared me for something like this.
We take a private plane and then a limo to the estate.
Not everyone from the culinary club is here, but most of them are.
I can’t wait to tell Kitty about this. She was so excited when I told her I was going.
Dacre’s house is the size of five of my childhood homes shoved together, along with a garden that stretches over two acres of land. There’s a colorful fountain I’m itching to run my fingers over when I get out of the limo because it looks like opalite.
I’m starting to understand more about who Dacre is. My family never struggled, but this . . . This is incomprehensible wealth.
“You look shocked,” he whispers close to my ear in the seat next to me.
The car crawls down the drive, and I gawk at the weeping branches of the trees.
“I’ve never seen any place like this before.”
“My family’s crown jewel, passed down through many, many generations. They loved vacationing here.”
“I’m sure they’re just as charming as you.”
He smirks.
“You seem oddly calm,” I say.
Dacre shuts off every time I mention his family, but he’s leaning back in his seat without a care in the world.
“My grandfather had to take a trip out of town. He won’t be joining us, thankfully. Don’t get too relaxed now. This weekend is not meant to be fun. It’s grueling work.”
“Tell me I can bake a little.”
He smiles. “Wait till you see the kitchen.”
He isn’t kidding. This house is nothing like the estate his family has near the campus.
There isn’t a piece of dark mahogany wood in sight.
It’s all light birch and tall, arched windows that overlook the beach.
I have no desire to swim, since it’s the cold season, but it doesn’t stop me from gawking when Dacre gives me a full tour of the two-story kitchen, the dining rooms, and the dance hall.
He’s all smiles, which is becoming my new favorite thing to see.
That is, until one of the staff stops us during the tour of the garden.
“Room . . . As in one room?” Dacre repeats.
“The east wing is under construction. We have only one room remaining. The bungalow.”
“This is ridiculous. Prepare a pallet for me in the dining room.”
“They’re setting up for the weekend, sir.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “It will be fine. We’ll split the room.”
“That’s out of the question,” Dacre says.
“Are you scared that I’ll bite?” I tease.
He stops. “I . . . I’m not worried about you. I’m more worried about what Luther and Verity will say when seeing you coming from my room.”
“Our room. And they’re on the other side of the estate. How would they ever know?”
“Sir?”
“Fine. Prep the room for two people. Keep it hushed.”