earlier. I’m Isa. Izzy, if you prefer.”
“I never bothered to ask. Isa. As in Isabelle?” She lowers herself to the seat across from me, setting the cane off to the side, and lifts the teacup to her lips.
“Isadora.”
There’s only a slight tremble in her hand, as she sips the drink and sets the teacup tittering against the saucer on the table in front of her. “Shame. I love the name Isabelle.”
Shame. The only kind thing my mother ever did for me was naming me after my grandmother.
“Have you met Lucian yet?” Her question interrupts my thoughts.
“No. Rand says I probably won’t have much contact with him.”
“It’s probably just as well. He’s not much for socializing these days.”
“He likes his privacy. I respect that.”
“Do you?” For the third time, her gaze slips to my outfit, which I’m guessing, in this alternate existence, would be like a fisherman rolling up to port in a three-piece suit back home.
“I’ve no intentions of imposing. I’m merely here to assist you in whatever capacity you require.”
“I’ll give you this, you don’t talk like a typical adolescent. The last one we had could barely speak in full sentences. I felt like I was verbally texting with her.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me, and I clear my throat, straightening in my seat just enough not to spill the cup of tea I haven’t yet sipped. “I have very little in common with most girls my age,” I say, lifting the teacup to my lips. Dear God, please don’t let me gag. I tip the drink back, taking tiny sips of the sweet flavor that warms my tongue.
“How many boys have fucked you, Isa?”
Fluids expel past my lips on a gasp, and a good portion of the tea splashes onto the saucer below the cup, sloshing around the dish as I set it onto the table in front of me.
“Da Hong Pao is the most expensive tea in the world. More than thirty times its weight in gold. In China, it’s reserved for honored guests.”
“I’m sorry. I was caught off guard.”
“My question offended you? See, it’s important for me to gauge your interests. A number of women we’ve hired have gone on to behave rather inappropriately toward my son. The rumors of his cock seem to be legendary. A source of amusement amongst you local girls.”
“As I said, I’ve nothing in common with my peers. And I can assure you, I’m not here for your son’s cock. Legendary, or not.”
“Good. You should be safe to introduce to Roark, then.”
“Roark?”
“My grandson.”
“Oh, I was … under the impression you only had one grandson.”
“I do only have one grandson. That’s all Lucian and Amelia gifted me, but I count my blessings for him every day.”
A cold chill winds down my spine as I stare back at her, and I school my face over my confusion. Unless rumors have it all wrong, she’s talking about her missing grandson. Did they find him? I don’t even know how to ask her this question.
“Roark! Roark! Come here please, I’ve someone to introduce to you!” She doesn’t take her eyes off me as she calls out for him, smiling in such a way that makes me roll my shoulders back to ward off the sudden discomfort. “Roark! Nonna is calling for you!”
“Perhaps he’s asleep?”
“It’s the dolls. They’ve always frightened him, ever since he was a baby.” Shooting up out of her chair, she knocks over the pot, spilling her expensive tea all over the carpet. “Roark Lucian Blackthorne, you come here now, or I’ll have Anna spank your behind!”
I kneel down to the carpet, grabbing one of the napkins from the tray to daub the tea, while I tease out the possibility that she might not be mentally sound. “It’s okay, if he doesn’t want to meet me. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”
“He’s a child. He doesn’t know what discomfort is. No child understands the burdens we adults carry.” She swings around toward the door wall behind her. “I’ll bet he’s playing on the balcony again. Amelia must be sleeping.”
Amelia. From what I’ve heard, Amelia is dead. Is it possible that rumor was wrong, as well?
As she tromps toward the door, I recall Rand mentioning something on the phone earlier, about someone leaving the door unlocked and placing Mrs. Blackthorne at grave risk. I jump to my feet and step in front of her, immediately regretting my decision when she frowns back at me. The last thing I need, though, is