I Am the Wild (The Night Firm #1)- Karpov Kinrade Page 0,22

myself just for you."

I thank her and follow Lily into an entryway that's larger than some apartments in New York. Two grand staircases wind up to a second floor, meeting in the middle. There's a door to the right, a door to the left, and a hall beneath the stairs that leads to another part of the castle. Lily leads me upstairs and down several hallways. I try to memorize the path, but quickly lose track. I feel like I should be leaving bread crumbs to find my way back.

We stop at a door that looks the same as several others we've passed. "This is your suite. Just ring the bell if you need help. It's a big place and easy to get lost in when you're new."

"Do you live here, too?" I ask.

She nods. "You’re going to love it."

She walks away, leaving me with my bags, but turns back to face me before I enter the room. "We're all really glad you're here, Eve. You're just who they need."

She leaves for real this time and I wipe my palms on my pants and turn the knob, letting myself in.

I expect to walk into a bedroom, but I actually step into a sitting room with a loveseat and chair positioned in front of a fire with a coffee table between them. There's a patio with a cream-colored silk curtain dancing in the wind coming in from the open glass door. There's a desk with my some of my books stacked on it and the rest are lined up on the shelves next to it. My personal items have been dispersed through the room just as I would have placed them, including a sketch I drew of my brother framed on the fireplace mantel, right next to my brother's urn.

Seeing it brings more tears to my eyes. I place my bags down and walk over to it, running a finger down the side of the urn, my heart contracting with the grief that daily threatens to overwhelm me. It still doesn't seem real, and yet it's altogether too real at the same time. Grief is like that, I've learned. It lives on the impossible edge between real and unreal. Between waking and dreaming. And that makes it all the more crushing. Not understanding what happened to the brother I knew. How his body, the fullness of his life, could be reduced to a handful of ashes.

I turn away from his remains and focus on exploring the rest of the room. The hand-painted tile flooring is partially covered by thick rugs to take the chill off, and the blazing fire in the hearth warms the space. A large bookshelf covers one wall and is filled with books, some of them mine, some new. Well, old, actually, but new to me. Mine stand out as the only ones without leather covers.

In another corner is a two-person table with a bowl of fruit and a jug of juice or wine atop it. There's another jug with water, and a bar with stronger drinks to the side. I step through a door and into my bedroom, which boasts another lit fire with two comfortable leather chairs in front of it, and a huge four-poster canopy bed carved from a beautiful light wood and decorated with cherry blossoms. A thick purple velvet comforter covers it and I push my hand into the bed and sigh at how luxurious it feels. Way better than the bed I just sold. There's a large wardrobe that reveals all my clothes unpacked when I open it, plus other clothes, very fancy dresses and suits, that I've never seen before but are all in my size with matching shoes. The new clothes are gothic and Renaissance in style, which is unusual, but beautiful and clearly expensively, made with the finest craftsmanship and fabrics.

I've been well off in the past, comfortable enough to live in a nice neighborhood in New York, buy nice clothes, and go to restaurants when I wanted. Granted I had to sell anything of value to help pay Adam’s medical expenses and relocate to a much cheaper apartment, but I still remember that life. But as I look around I realize this is a whole other level of wealth that most people can only dream about.

The bathroom is spacious, with a huge tub in the center of the room. One wall in the bathroom is made of stone and hides the shower behind it. There's no door, just