Chapter 7
Mom once told me to never drive past a covered bridge when a tornado was coming—always take shelter as soon as you can.
She was wrong, a covered bridge was actually the worst place to be in a tornado. You were better off leaving your car and hiding in a ditch until the storm passed.
My temple pressed against the passenger window of Beau’s truck as he drove into Elren. The sunset-kissed gray December sky showed no sign of a tornado, but I was forced to seek shelter from a storm nonetheless.
Would I much rather wallow in a ditch than live with Beau Fontaine? Absolutely, but I couldn’t make decisions based on what I wanted anymore.
Moving into the famous Fontaine Manor for the ease of my pregnancy was just like when Mom and I had to move in with Grandma after my dad left. Mom and Grandma didn’t see eye-to-eye, to put it lightly, but Mom put up with her for my sake.
“Pride doesn’t keep your stomach full or your bed warm,” Mom had said.
That advice I had to agree with. Accepting Beau’s charity felt like I had spiders crawling beneath my skin, but my babies deserved the best I could offer.
And right now, all I could offer them was a rich father.
As the men on Beau’s podcast droned on about the discovery of a new sea urchin, I weakly lifted my arm and my lips caught the edge of my straw. I sucked down the last dregs of my extra-large peanut butter smoothie and listened as my suitcases slid around in the bed of Beau’s truck.
I had left most of my decor and books in my apartment, but I stuffed all my blankets, candles, and sweatshirts into every piece of luggage I owned. They were heavy as all hell, but that was Beau’s problem.
If I was carrying his babies, he could carry all the suitcases he forced me to pack when he strong-armed me into moving in with him.
Well, except for my purse that rested at my feet. No one was touching it but me.
Beau turned the truck and suddenly the cracked pavement of the highway smoothed into dark asphalt.
Since Ashley and I weren’t too keen to get drunk in fields or smoke blunts in the grocery store parking lot, we spent hours of our teenage years cruising all over Elren in her rusty beater sedan.
Even though I swore Ashley and I had explored every back road around Elren’s city limits, I had never been down this country road before.
After a few minutes of driving, I saw it on the horizon—Fontaine Manor.
I had always heard that Fontaine Manor was a creature borne from the pages of a leather-bound gothic horror and dropped into the middle of the prairie.
With its stone walls, mansard roofs topped with copper spires, and corners rounded out with ostentatious turrets, I understood where people could have gotten that idea.
Though if anyone had asked me, I would have described the massive house not as a dark fairytale dream, but with a mere two words—gaudy and imposing.
The truck headed up the long driveway to the manor that circled around a large, three-tiered fountain before parking in front of the mahogany double doors.
Beau got out of the truck as I examined the front of the manor.
The brickwork that made the base of the manor suggested that it was built in the early 20th century, but I couldn’t find any architectural cues that would connect the manor to any other building in Elren.
From the small iron bars that formed diamond window panes to the perfectly square hedges that guarded the foundation like a moat, everything about the manor screamed old money.
A shiver went up my arms—this was nothing like moving in with Grandma. Still, the stay at Grandma’s house was temporary, just like my stay at Fontaine Manor.
Granted, we only left Grandma’s because she died and the bank took her house…but it was still just a temporary stay!
Beau opened my door just as I pulled my purse onto my shoulder. He held out his hand, but I squeezed my purse closer to my body.
“No, I’ve got it,” I protested.
Beau stood aside with his arms folded as I carefully shimmied and slid my way out of his giant truck. My pelvis didn’t want to cooperate for whatever reason, so I had to escape my seat like an oversized penguin.
And I thought nausea was going to be the most humiliating part of pregnancy.
I ignored the pointed eye-roll Beau gave me as I struggled. Maybe I would move faster if he had a normal vehicle…or if he knew how to pull out.
My legs were a little wobbly as my feet planted on the perfectly smooth concrete near the front steps, but Beau didn’t wait for me before turning to the front door. He pressed his thumb against a pad on the handle. A lock clicked and then he pushed the door open.
I raised an eyebrow. “So only you can get in and out? Are you planning on locking me in here to keep your precious heirs safe?”
He scoffed. “I’ll get you added to the system after you settle in, but don’t tempt me.”
I followed him inside, but my feet froze as I took in the interior.
The foyer was papered in veridian green and stretched two stories high, leading to a circular mural of Baroque-style dolphins on the ceiling. Hanging from the ceiling was a wrought-iron chandelier that was dripping with…strands of pearlescent beads from a craft store.
Black and white marble tile stretched all the way to the back doors of the manor.
The curved stairs lead to the second story landing where…
chartreuse suits of armor stood guard. My eyes darted around, finding a raspberry pink frame on the wall featuring a portrait of peacocks in top hats, a gilded mirror that flipped its reflection upside-down, and a standing iron candelabra fashioned with two of its arms on its “hips” to appear as if it had been impatiently waiting.
Beau stuffed his hands into his pockets and I followed him through the foyer, my head turning to examine the wall full of mounted heads of an antelope, a gazelle, and even a giraffe that stretched up to the dolphin mural.
“Dad likes to shoot things,” Beau casually explained.
I froze in front of a rhinoceros head that had been spray-painted gold and had hot pink eyelashes glued above its black glass eyes.
Beau followed my eyes and sucked in his lip. “And…Mom likes to get creative.”
I turned from the poor animals to face him. “Do your parents live here?”
He glanced away. “No, just me.” Soft clicking noises suddenly echoed through the foyer. “Oh, and my roommate.”
I clutched my purse closer to my body. I pictured sharing a living space with one of Beau’s rowdy friends from college, but then a big white dog appeared from behind a set of sponge-painted columns.
Beau held his palm out and the dog came right over.
“This is Titus.” He gave him a big scratch behind his floppy ear. “He’s absolutely useless.”
“Poor boy—Beau is so mean to you.” I gave Titus a gentle head-rub. “Next he’ll say you’re broke and have a shitty car.”
“Nonsense, Titus wouldn’t be caught dead in a Jaguar.” Beau turned toward a closet with a gilded cage door near the stairs. “Come on, I’ll show you to your cell, prisoner.”
I rolled my eyes and followed. On the wall next to the closet was an awkward rectangular gap between the decorations like a large frame had just been removed. I bet Beau commissioned an oil painting of himself and then threw it away in a tantrum because it didn’t flatter him enough.
He pressed a button near the closet door. “I normally take the stairs, but since you’re likely going to need this in the future…”
The gilded closet door split in half and opened. Only then did I realize it wasn’t a closet but an elevator.
Beau stepped inside the elevator and I carefully followed. The elevator was small and I was too damn close to him, but Beau was the least of my worries.
I turned my head to all my reflections on the mirrored walls, half-expecting to see the face of a family ghost in the glass. Both the birdcage style of the door and the filigreed frame around the column of buttons suggested that the elevator was very old.
“Quit freaking out,” Beau said. “This elevator is ten times safer than that death trap you used to drive.”
He pressed the button labeled with a hand-painted “2” and his arm accidentally brushed against mine. I sucked in a breath at the sudden warmth of his touch.
Nope—that was how I got into this situation. I wasn’t going to entangle myself deeper with Beau Fontaine and his haunted house of oddities. I was his temporary roommate and nothing more.
Thankfully, Beau moved closer to the wall as the elevator ascended.
He cleared his throat. “The media room, kitchen, and gym are on the first floor. The study is in the east wing next to the library—if I’m at home working, that’s where you’ll find me.”
I ignored the third floor button and focused on the lowest button in the column. “What’s in the basement?”
“A dungeon for sexual torture.”
The elevator doors opened to the second floor and Beau casually stepped out, but I was stone still as heat pooled beneath my cheeks.
He turned to face me, hands in his pockets and that damnable smile on his face. “That was a joke, Adams. Never thought you would be so gullible.”
I gripped the strap of my purse and hurried out of the elevator. “You have half a safari on the wall downstairs, why wouldn’t I believe you?”
He led me down a dark hallway and let out a small disappointed sigh. “The basement is a tornado shelter that functions as a den. God, I hope my twins don’t inherit your terrible sense of humor.”
I scowled. “Call them your twins one more time and I’ll turn that basement into a real torture dungeon.”
He took a few more steps before hooking his long fingers onto a crystal doorknob to his left. “Here you go, inmate. This is where you’ll finish out your nine-month sentence.”