gladly accompany you until Bentley has given you the formal tour. Okay?”
“Yes. That makes sense, I guess.” A call button? Private areas? Maybe he truly is in the mob.
Turning, Robbie leaves and I enter the room, closing the door behind me. I am finally alone with my thoughts. I look around. The bedroom is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It is beyond luxury. A large king bed is against one wall, facing a marble fireplace. Four floor-to-ceiling windows alcove a beautiful window seat. Pulling back the curtains, I expect to see another beautiful view of the land outside. I am surprised instead to see the hard rocks of the canyons. I had hoped to catch the rising sun, but this house is beyond unique: the bedrooms are all downstairs, below ground. It is almost as if the house was built to keep every ray of sunlight out. My imagination is really running away with me, it must be the exhaustion.
My bag is on the bed. I grab a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top to change into and head through the door into the private bathroom.
Holy hell.
It is my dream bathroom—the one I had pinned on my Pinterest board and had painstakingly chosen every detail of. The huge soaking tub, the large wall mounted rosewood vanity with the white marble sink and lighted mirror, the separate luxury rainfall ceiling shower. It is all there, right down to the towels and my favorite scented soaking salts. The vase full of sunflowers and red roses, my favorite combination of flowers, sits on the separate vanity, and that table with the fabric seat, the combination I had pieced together with four separate pictures, is the final detail. I hold on to the doorframe to keep from falling.
The cost of this bathroom alone is half of what my house is worth. It is the grandest gesture I’ve ever had made for me. But, is it too much? Am I even worth it? I quickly change clothes and go back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. My heart is pounding so fast and hard in my chest, I feel like I am having a panic attack. I am beginning to feel more and more like my gut is right, and I need to be listening to it.
Bentley is hiding something. But, what?
I am a lot more refreshed after waking from my slumber. I pushed the envelope yesterday, barely getting down to my crypt before the sun rose. Coming up the stairs to the main floor of the house, I am hit by the delicious smell of dinner. The chef has worked his magic, I can taste the Italian feast already. The strong smell of garlic, basil, and onion has my mouth watering. I had requested the chef prepare Keri’s favorites.
Keri comes down the stairs a few minutes later, wearing the pale green dress I laid out for her. When our eyes meet, I notice the anger flashing in hers.
Uh oh.
“Something smells delicious,” Erik says, strolling into the room behind her.
“Erik.” I nod hello to my brother, walking slowly to stand by Keri’s side. Slowly. One step at a time, left foot in front of the right. I have to keep myself from blurring over to her, while signaling to Erik that she doesn’t know yet. He nods his understanding.
“Hello, Keri. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Erik holds his hand out to her. She takes it and politely shakes it in return. Good girl.
“I bet you are famished.” I nudge her forward and towards the formal dining room. It is a room I am proud of. I’ve it set up to either host a large gathering, or a smaller intimate one. The staff can put leaves in or take them out of the beautiful, antique tables. Tonight, we have one table set up in the middle of the room, set for six.
“I am hungry. I’ve been up for a while. I looked around a little bit while you slept. You know, your goons are very picky about where I go without you,” Keri says.
There is a bite in her voice, an edge.
“Goons? My security are friends of mine, and hopefully will become your friends, too. They are hardly goons. But yes, there are certain parts of the property I want to show you myself, and other sections that are used for business purposes only. Why don’t we discuss this over dinner?”
She understands that this is not a suggestion and I lead