Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“So hasty to get away from me?” he mocks softly as he slips the pages back into the folio and passes it to me before rising. “I’ll escort you out since Mr. Peters has disappeared.”
Ugh.
Xavier has this way of talking that makes everything sound ominously significant. I can’t tell if it’s just the way he is, if he overheard any of my conversation with Joseph, or even if he already suspects his money may not buy the loyalty he thinks from his underlings.
There’s a fresh chill in that green stone stare.
I feel numb as I back out into the hall, keeping precious space between us as he rounds the desk and approaches me.
That distance remains as he turns to lead me down the hall.
Xavier doesn’t comment on it, thankfully.
I hate how I feel like a servant shuffling along in his wake, a few steps behind and to his right, but I’m more interested in escaping without any more weird moments.
Can I really spend years working here?
Well, it won’t be all on-site.
Most of it will be in the workshop, I remind myself.
And with five million bucks, even with most of it going to cover materials and labor, Grandpa has time.
That gives me a thrill as we exit the hall and step into the foyer. But that feeling vanishes when I realize we’re not alone.
I almost don’t see her at first.
She’s standing in a niche behind the huge double doors, like a statue tucked out of the way just to occupy space in an alcove.
Her severe all-black clothing doesn’t help. She’s dressed in an old-fashioned gown that covers her from neck to toe, severely fitted in the torso and loose in the skirt.
Her hair is iron grey, bound back in a prim knot.
The only pale points are her hands and her square face. She almost looks like a ghost, and as my eyes lock on hers, I nearly scream, clutching at my bag, my heart rabbiting in a panicked thump.
She stares back at me, totally expressionless.
Still, there’s something so vile, so cold, so hateful in her black eyes, and my mouth goes dry.
I’ve seen her before.
That night we went camping.
She was there, standing back and watching like a black queen on a chessboard—and the way she looks at me right now hurts.
Like she’s marking me.
Like she knows me.
But she couldn’t know I was there that night with Micah… could she?
I can’t think that.
It’s not possible, and when Xavier breezes past her to open the doors without even glancing at her, pretending she’s not there, I take my cue and look away without acknowledging her.
But I can still feel her watching as I step over the threshold.
It leaves me frozen, sweat breaking down my spine in beads.
Not even the afternoon sun feels warm enough as I venture out, down the soaring stairs. Xavier lingers in the doorway like a ghoul who can’t cross into the light.
“Until next time, Miss Grey,” he says with a strange formality.
“S-sure,” I say. “I’ll email you!”
“See that you do.”
Everything feels wrong right now. Like I’ve just stepped out of a nightmare and back into the real world, yet I don’t like it.
I breathe, shallow and swift, my lungs burning as I lunge downstairs to get away from here.
I wait until I’m on the path and in the trees before I stop, bending over and bracing my hands on my knees, just letting myself heave a little before I regain control.
Holy shit.
That was a Jacobin, wasn’t it? That woman.
Micah was right.
They’re connected.
And I need to get back to town and tell him ASAP.
When I text Micah and tell him I’m out, and I think I have something, I’m not expecting the text I get back nearly instantly.
Micah: My place. 8 p.m.
Blinking, I shiver for different reasons as I make my way into town, taking the long way to stretch my legs and calm down. The last time I went to Micah’s place, he very conspicuously kept me from going inside.
Is he actually going to let me into his man cave this time?
…I hope so.
Just because suddenly, desperately, I want to be near him. He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel clean.
Everything I need to scrub away the taint of Xavier’s company.
I’m on edge the rest of the day.
By the time evening rolls around, I’m a nervous wreck.
It’s just another business meeting.
Nothing personal.
I drop things, mess up sketches, send my pencils rolling across the drafting table. Luckily, when I got back to the shop, Grandpa was back to his old lucid self.
The whole afternoon, I can feel him watching with a thoughtful eye, though he keeps his observations to himself.
I don’t know what I’d do with him teasing me about my jitters.
Have I mentioned I have near zero experience with men?
I need to remember that.
The fact that I’m not used to men who aren’t family means I’m overly sensitive and likely to read more than I should into things.