Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
When she exits the car, her elegance shines through as she squares her shoulders and tilts her chin up. She doesn’t show any fear, not one bit of it, but I can feel it emanating from her.
“Ah, there he is.” The deep Dutch accent comes from the doorway, and I’m met with the tall, formidable presence of Heinrich Gotlieb. “And this beauty must be the lovely Grecia Harding.” He smiles as he takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. Then turning to me, he offers me his hand to shake.
“Birchwood,” Grecia tells him without missing a beat.
“My apologies, Ms. Birchwood.”
He grins down at her with amusement, and I’m almost certain she’s the first and only woman who’s ever corrected him.
“Good to finally meet you,” I tell him.
Heinrich nods before leading us inside his home. The decor looks like it belongs in a history book. The antiques adorning the interior probably date back to when the mansion was built in the seventeen-hundreds.
Old portraits hang on the walls, and the men in uniform depicted within them stare out from the frames, casting a stern eye over their domain. The carpeting is plush with dark brown and red patterns, and the wooden railing on the sweeping marble staircase belongs in a medieval castle rather than a modern-day home.
“Let’s go to the office and speak,” Heinrich suggests.
We follow him down a long hallway. Grecia walks in front of me, and my hand finds the spot on her lower back that sends electricity shooting up my arm.
Fuck.
This needs to stop.
CHAPTER 5
GRECIA
I’m speechless at how beautiful the house is. I haven’t seen the second floor, but I’m sure it’s as epic as the hallway we’re walking down now. The house is very old with antique, dark wood furnishings, but there’s a natural light that illuminates the interior and prevents it from looking dreary.
Heinrich steps through a doorway and motions for us to follow inside before shutting the door behind us. The office we’ve entered is decked in bookshelves on every wall, and a very large painting of some old guy hangs above an enormous open brick fireplace.
“Please, sit,” our guest of honor says as he settles behind a large wooden desk that could sit twelve people rather than only him.
Tarian and I each take a seat on the two dark brown wingback chairs facing him.
“You have a lovely home,” I tell Heinrich, unsure of what else to say.
Growing up in Tynewood, the members of my family, along with the Lancasters, Durands, and Calverts, were seen as high society. We had what they refer to as old money. It was only as I got older that I realized there were other people who lived in mansions and were as wealthy, but it was all newly acquired.
“Thank you, Ms. Birchwood,” the older man responds. “I wasn’t aware of what a beauty you are. It’s no wonder Tarian has you traipsing around the world with him.”
There’s a leeriness to Heinrich’s gaze that makes me uneasy.
As if Tarian can sense my discomfort, he clears his throat and leans forward in his seat, drawing Heinrich’s attention away from me.
“What are we doing here?” Tarian asks. “I thought we had a meeting to go to at the church?”
“We do, but I wanted to welcome you to my home and have a drink before we make our way to the meeting.”
This man scares me. I can handle Tarian’s darkness, the monster he keeps hidden in the depths of his soul, but Heinrich is something else.
“That’s fine,” Tarian responds as he leans back in his chair and pulls out his packet of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke in here?”
“Not at all,” Heinrich tells him as he rises from his seat and grabs a decanter with amber liquid sloshing inside. I watch our host pour three shots into crystal tumblers that would make my dad jealous. He hands me one and another to Tarian, then lifting his own glass, he smiles at me and toasts, “To new friends and acquaintances.”
I take a sip of the liquid, which burns its way down my throat. I feel it warm me from the inside out. Heinrich downs his shot in one before pouring himself a second.
Tarian places his empty glass on the desk, and soon enough, both men have had three shots each. A knock on the door sounds, and excusing himself, Heinrich leaves the office.
Tarian turns to me, his gaze locked on mine.
“Don’t go anywhere without me. If he asks you to do anything, you refuse unless I’m there with you.” He speaks quickly as he leans in and squeezes my hand, making sure I’m paying attention. “I own you for tonight. If you feel the urge to slap me at any point, please wait until we’re alone. Given any excuse, these men won’t think twice about hurting you. I am one of the Crowns and women aren’t seen as equal in these get-togethers. Am I understood?”