Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Those paintings are making my fingers itch. What relief it would've given the old me, if I had been able to steal even just one of them for Maman.
(Heh.)
Another thing catches my eye, and it's the sheer number of security cameras we've walked past. Those small black orbs are everywhere, and not just mounted discreetly in every corner. I see them next to every column and above every entry and exit point. There are even a couple so perfectly concealed, only someone who steals for a living would've noticed them.
What is this place, seriously? Big Brother's House, criminal edition?
"Is there a phone I can use?" I ask Erin impulsively.
"I'm afraid not."
Erin, whose official job title I've forgotten, seems to know everything that goes on around this house. I picture her more like my husband's sergeant-in-arms, someone he trusts to keep his entire household staff in line. Even more interesting? I haven't seen anyone else in our tour, with all of them disappearing into God knows where after their greeting squad act on the front steps.
"Where's everybody?"
"Attending to their respective duties."
Oh, this woman is really good at answering my questions without actually giving me anything.
"I really need to use my phone, though. Would you happen to know where it is?"
"In the master's possession."
"And you don't think that's odd?"
"Not at all."
"What if I tell you I've been abducted?" I ask impulsively.
"It would have broken my heart to hear this," she answers without hesitation.
Oh?
"—if you were one of the others."
"Others?"
Erin's mask slips for the first time, and we both realize she's said something she shouldn't have.
"What do you mean by others?" I insist on asking.
Erin clears her throat. "I believe I'm needed in the kitchen at this time."
"No, you're not."
The other woman only bows, and I realize I'm not the only one who's good at ignoring what we don't want to see or hear.
"Please use the intercom if you need anything, madame. Good day."
My jaw drops when she turns without even waiting for me to say something back, and by the time I recover from my surprise, she's disappeared around the corner, and I...I have no idea how to find her.
Erin - 1, Me - 0.
For now.
But in the meantime...
I think it's time to make a proper assessment of my current...setup.
Main entrance: four security guards, two visible, probably two more I can't see. Metal detectors and cameras.
Not an option.
I wander past a side exit: alarmed, camera above, keypad entry.
Nope.
I head up the grand staircase and consider the second-floor windows. Is it possible to jump from here?
Still a hard no, which makes for three strikes.
I make my way back to my suite, testing doorknobs as I go.
Locked. Locked. Locked. Locked.
The only rooms I can explore are the same rooms that Erin has already shown me, and by late afternoon, I've confirmed what I suspected: I'm in a very comfortable, very spacious, very lovely...prison.
Yay, me.
When I return to my bedroom, I notice something new. Double doors to the balcony stand open, and outside, a table has been set for dinner.
Huh.
Two envelopes rest beside a covered silver tray. The first contains a printed medical report and photos. My mother's surgery—a surgery I didn't even know was scheduled—was successful, and to ensure her full recovery, Maman has been informed that she will be unable to receive visitors in the next 72 hours.
How...convenient.
The second envelope is square-shaped and sealed with wax—black and gold, featuring a skull wearing a crown. I use the silver letter opener to carefully break the seal, trying not to damage the intricate emblem.
Inside is a simple card.
Je suis désolé de ne pas pouvoir vous rejoindre pour le dîner. I'm sorry I won't be able to join you for dinner.
Votre mari. Your husband.
I tell myself this is a relief. And I swear I'm relieved. Truly!
The sun sets over the expansive grounds as I eat, and I'm surprised to find myself with an appetite. Maybe it's because I can't even remember the last time I've eaten. Or maybe the food is just that good. Salmon that's so juicy and tender it just melts in my mouth, and the buttery herbed cream sauce that goes with it?
Parfait. Perfect.
Night falls, but restlessness gnaws tirelessly at my bones, keeping sleep at bay. My gaze keeps returning to the door on the far wall, which I know can only lead to his adjoining suite.
Oh, peu importe.
I jump out of my bed before I can talk myself out of it and pad barefoot to the door. "Monsieur?" I knock three times, wait a few seconds, before giving it a little push, and oh.
It swivels so fast I end up back where I started.
Comme c'est intrigant. How intriguing.
I give it another push, and this time I'm able to carefully step into his room, which turns out to be everything that mine isn't. Masculine versus soft. Dark versus pastel. Leather versus lace. And a bed that's about twice the size of mine...not that it matters. I just noticed, that's all.