Rip
It’s fucking cold in here.
But not as cold as it was in the wine cellar. I felt like I was at the North Pole in that room, with Jack Frost breathing down my neck, and the only source of warmth was the prince of Beaumont Grand.
The most aggravating guy I’ve met, the same one I was holding back from killing moments ago, suddenly became the most comforting person around.
His skin was freezing to the touch, yet he was so warm. I know the explanation: body heat, and some other science-y stuff, and blah, blah, blah, but no. That’s not what I’m talking about.
The prince made my insides so warm and relaxed that I wanted to kiss him. We were wondering if anyone would ever find us down there, and my brain’s reaction was to press my lips against the fucked-up heir’s.
If I hadn’t bitten the hell out of my tongue to hold myself back, I would have kissed him. I would have tasted the lips of the man I’ve spent two weeks trying to get close to. I almost kissed Kingsley unprovoked, yet I’ve refused to kiss the red-haired woman draped across my chest all night.
I pull the duvet to cover our bare chests. Her warmth doesn’t satisfy me the way Kingsley’s did.
I look around for her uniform. I’d prefer to have her things prepped for when she wakes up so she can leave. She’s not one to linger, but I like to streamline things.
Minutes later, she stirs awake, and her nails dig into my chest as she yawns.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” I croak.
“It’s time for me to leave,” she whispers. It almost comes out as a question, but I take it as a statement.
I pull my arm off her as I yawn. “Probably a good idea.”
Timidly, she sits up and pulls the sheet around her.
Her eyes waver, conflicted, so I close my eyes again to avoid it.
She’s done this the last few times we’ve slept together, lingering like she’s waiting for me to say something more.
Since I’ll be staying here for a while, that probably means I should cut it off before things get messy.
She finds her uniform in a heap on the floor, gets dressed, and then fixes her hair in the mirror. I nod off while she gets herself together.
“Bye, Rip,” she whispers sweetly.
I don’t bother opening my eyes. “Bye, Lily.”
There’s a long pause, so long that I think she’s left the room, but when I open an eye, she’s still there. “It’s Linda.”
Fuck. “That’s what I said.”
Linda bats her eyelashes, blinking away the hurt. She leaves without another word, and a tension swirls in my chest. I knew her name—I really did. I’m a real areshole.
With a groan, I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. Now I’m awake and still cold.
Maybe it doesn’t help that the only fabric over my body is the thin sheet.
Thomas is leaning against the doorframe, frowning at me. “You’re a twat.”
Can’t argue there. “I know.”
Will she see me again after this? Her living next door makes her the closest and most convenient girl around, good for blowing off steam through sex since I don’t have anyone to punch my stress away on.
“Are we still on for the plan, or did you change your mind after your near-death experience three days ago?”
I smirk. “I don’t back out.”
Since we haven’t cracked the code to Kingsley Beaumont’s mind space, we’re going to force our way in.
Like… literally. We’re going to sneak into the Beaumonts’ house during their dinner event tonight, one we were not invited to. While that’s happening, we’ll scope out the place to see if we can get any hints about what we’re actually doing, since the Requiem still won’t fill us in.
Putting the mission at risk for a search that may lead nowhere isn’t ideal, but we’re stuck.
We haven’t seen Kingsley in days because his father gave us all some time to ourselves after the freezing incident, leaving us with little understanding of him.
Hopefully, a search of his bedroom might give us some insight.
Practically reading my thoughts, Thomas asks, “How the hell do we search a place without knowing what we’re searching for?”
“Don’t ask me. But as soon as we figure it out, the sooner we can get on Mum and Mother for keeping us in the dark like children.”
“It has to be a pretty good reason for them to keep it from us.”
I’m not sure what could be good enough to force us to step into the unknown.
“Now put some clothes on. I’m tired of talking to you knowing you’re naked under the covers.” Thomas grimaces.
I chuck a pillow at his head, and he dodges it. “Fuck off.”
Thomas goes to whip up some breakfast while I get dressed.
Thank goodness for this tiny kitchen, or we’d be eating the resort food daily.
Don’t get me wrong, the food is amazing, only not as healthy as when we make it ourselves.
The Req encourages us to be on strict diets.
Not everyone sticks to it, but I do, and that’s why I’m so successful.
An hour later, we’ve made it to the Beaumont’s grand double front doors.
It’s safe to assume the property is riddled with cameras recording our every move, which makes it a tad difficult to slip in without getting caught.
That’s why we’re at the front doors, standing before Mya Beaumont.
The silver dress she wears is short, reaching her thighs, and fits her snugly, adorned with her costly bracelets.
“Oh my goodness,” I gasp and put my hand over my mouth. Mya raises a brow. “It’s the woman who gave the Beaumont kids their beauty. You look lovely, Mrs. Beaumont.”
Blushing, she covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, you’re too kind, Rip.”
Catching on, Thomas grins. “He’s only telling the truth. You are stunning.”
She laughs, and her whole face brightens up as if it’s the best thing she’s heard all day. “What are you boys buttering me up for? A raise?”
Mya Beaumont is no fool; she knows when someone’s buttering her up, they probably want something. Considering she is the wife of a mafia boss, she has to know. Not only that, but she’s a mother.
Thomas clasps his hands before his waist. “Not a raise. In all honesty, we wanted to see if we could have a meeting with you. We want to discuss certain trends we’ve noticed over the past week.”
Mya steps up, and I can see the many guests mingling behind her. “I’m sure Xavier and Santiago will be happy to hear about it. We have a dinner starting in five minutes, and the schedule is pretty packed for the next few days, but come back tomorrow, and we’ll work something out.”
“Oh, we understand. Sorry for the unannounced visit. Have a good night.”
As we leave, the door closes firmly behind us, and we continue past the wealth of expensive cars parked inside the gates of the Beaumonts’ property. Perfect.
Based on the full driveway and all the background noise we heard from Mya’s place, it’s definitely packed.
I bet they’ve got guards inside, but we can totally get past them like we’re supposed to be there.
We’re already inside the gate cameras, thanks to our little chat with Mya, so we don’t need to worry about sneaking past them.
After my near-death experience in the cellar, I learned something about the Beaumont mansion. They have no alarms. Kingsley and I would have been found straight away if there’d been an alarm, even with the power cut.
A few years back, someone cut the power to our house while I was snoozing in my bunk.
I’d likely be dead from a gunshot if the silent alarm hadn’t been tripped when the intruder broke in.
Thankfully, Mother took him out before he could mess with her family.
I was thirteen when I watched my mother strangle someone until the light left their eyes for the first time.
No well-respected and feared mafia boss would let his home go with minimal security—unless they were cocky.
It’s why once you’re past the outer gate, the only other security is the guards at the back and inside the house, and how we figured out when the guards change shifts, so we can slip in through the bathroom on the second-floor window unnoticed.
It’s why now that we’re in, we have access to the whole second floor.
Xavier Beaumont is one cocky bastard. It’s astounding that the Crown hasn’t crumpled from the inside out yet from his carelessness.
“Split up,” I whisper as we carefully tread down the hall. “If they’re any type of smart, we won’t find what we’re looking for in the bedrooms. Look for secrecy, for anything out of the ordinary, for—”
Thomas waves me off. “I got it, I got it.”
He turns down the hallway and disappears. The moron had better not get caught, or the entire operation is compromised.
I wander up and down the hallways, unsure if I’m going in circles because everything looks the same: large, murky-shaded walls that blend into the grayish floor. I’ve opened the same storage closet three times, for fuck’s sake.
What I need to find is the basement. The closest I got was the wine cellar, and I saw nothing weird in there.
With a home that’s so insecure, a secret basement is a must, especially in Louisiana, where basements are rare.
How do they even have a wine cellar? Maybe because part of the property is on a hill.
Anyway, I’d have to go downstairs to find a secret basement, and I can’t do that right now. I’ll have to make do with what I can find upstairs.
After endless roaming forever, I end up in a bedroom.
This room has a different shade of gray on the walls than the rest of the house. These are a darker, more muddy shade. Probably red, if I had to guess. Tons of expensive art, maybe more than I’m worth, hang on the walls around the big, perfectly centered king-size bed. It has to be Kingsley’s.
It’s just like him, unnervingly put together. Calm when it should be vulgar. Quiet when it should be loud.
I’m careful as I rummage through his drawers and closet. If he’s as I imagine, he’ll notice if a sock is out of place. If there’s nothing valuable here, then Thomas and I have basically tossed our precious time in the bin and taken a huge risk for nothing.
On the dresser, there are two nicely framed photos placed next to each other.