Fables & Other Lies - Claire Contreras Page 0,33
after I take the pictures.”
“Why would you want to leave?” He met my gaze, seemingly puzzled by this.
“I’m supposed to meet my friends for drinks.”
“Your friends will be here later tonight. Why not just enjoy the festivities and leave with them?”
“I’d rather not wait until then.”
“Do you feel uneasy here?” His brows pulled in slightly. “Is it Mayra? I can dismiss her.”
“You’d dismiss someone on your staff for me?” I blinked, shaking my head. “No. That’s . . . that would be awful. And it’s not her.”
Not just her, I wanted to say, but didn’t. River didn’t argue anymore. We finished eating in peace and he showed me the areas I could photograph.
“It’s so very . . . antiquated,” I said, sitting down on a bench across from the staircase to scroll through the photos I’d taken. Some of the wings were off-limits, but these would do. He sat beside me and looked over my shoulder as I scrolled.
“Not your style?”
“I’m not sure what my style is yet when it comes to home decoration. I’m renting for now and the house came fully furnished.” I clicked to the next one, of one of the six sitting rooms; this particular one was dark purple, all purple walls, all purple furniture, all purple carpet. “But this is definitely not my style.”
“Is your style more of a small house with a modern feel? On the water?”
My face whipped up, heart slamming. “How do you know that?”
“Know what?”
“About my house.”
“I don’t. I’m assuming, asking you a question.” He cocked his head. “Most people from islands tend to gravitate to the water. It has quite a pull on us, don’t you think?”
“Oh. Well, I live on Amelia Island, right on the water. For now, anyway, so I guess maybe you’re onto something.”
“For now? Where will you live forever?”
“I’m not sure.” I looked back at the pictures. “Maybe there. Maybe Europe. Not on the water.”
“That’s not likely.”
“Based on your assumptions.” I felt myself smile. “What do you do anyway? Do you work? Did you go to school? Have a life? Are you just a trust-fund baby living a trust-fund-baby life?”
“Not much of a baby.” He let out a laugh. He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t want to ask how old he was, but I assumed much closer to thirty than I was. “I’m thirty-two,” he said, as if reading my mind.
“Oh. Wow. And you don’t want a wife or a family?” I frowned.
“Do you think someone would want me as a husband?”
“Uh, yes.”
He grinned at that.
“I mean, just based on all of the awful human beings who end up with families, I mean,” I said, “not that you’re an awful human being at all.”
River chuckled, his eyes dancing.
“What I mean is, I think there’s someone out there for everyone.” I glanced away to hide my fierce blush, knowing that all the makeup in the world or my olive complexion wouldn’t cover it.
“I agree. I think there’s someone for everyone,” he said. “I wouldn’t call myself a trust-fund baby, but I guess for the sake of keeping things simple, I am in the family business. I have things that I do for fun, for fulfillment, if you will.”
“Oh.” I raised an eyebrow. “What do you do that’s fulfilling?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” He tore his gaze away from mine.
I followed it and saw that Mayra was standing on the other side of the staircase, right at the entrance of the hallway that River didn’t allow me to walk through to photograph. She was just staring at us. I swallowed, hating the uneasiness her presence brought. Was she a past lover of River’s? Was that why she hated me so much? Because truly, she could have him. No man was worth that kind of trouble or hatred.
“Ignore her.” River looked at me, pulling my attention from Mayra. I glanced over at her one more time, but she was gone.
I let out a breath. “Why does she hate me so much? Is she an ex of yours?”
“No.”
“Someone you sleep with but don’t take seriously?” My heart stopped beating for a second, as if anticipating the pain his answer might bring.
“So many questions.” His mouth twitched. “Come on, I’ll show you outside and then drive you back to Pan.”
When we walked toward the door and he opened it, I felt myself breathe a little easier. He wasn’t holding me hostage after all. The fog seemed to have lifted. When I looked up at the sky, I couldn’t see the sun,