With that, he spun to leave the room, but I wasn’t done with the conversation. My fists slammed against the floor on either side of me, my voice coming out as an embarrassing shriek when I demanded, “Bring me my uncle, right fucking now! I’ll have your job for this shit!”
The man glanced over his shoulder at me, arched a brow, then turned to shut the door behind him.
I shoved up to my feet and stumbled to the door, one fist banging on the wood while the other slammed down the lever.
Locked.
They locked me in?
What the hell was going on?
My fists pummeled the wood, the frame shaking with how hard I hit. I was beyond angry now, so damn enraged that I swore I would attack the next person who walked in here.
Someone must have heard my threats and warnings through the door because it popped open while I was in the middle of my tirade, the panel shoving back so fast that it almost caught me in the face.
I winced when my foot slammed down and ground the glass in deeper only to look up to have a hand slammed across my mouth and my body shoved back until I was up against a wall.
The amber stare that caught mine was nothing less than lethal.
Fingers crushed my cheeks against my teeth, the pain of that competing with my feet and the back of my head. I had the strangest feeling that if I didn’t shut up now, I wouldn’t live to see the outside of this room.
Callan leaned in so close that our noses were almost touching, a low growl crawling up his throat that reminded me of a rabid dog.
I wanted to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but I didn’t dare move my mouth against his palm for fear he’d snap my neck and watch silently while my body slid to the floor.
Seconds passed, an intense hatred flowing out of him, before he let me go, and I slid to the ground regardless. Tears ran down my cheeks, which pounded from the blood rushing back in, my head and feet only adding to the beat as if they were accompanying drums.
Callan glared down at me without saying a word, eventually turning to stride out of the room and shut the door again. I heard the lock click in place like a final warning that this is where I’d been put, and I’d better learn to like it.
Who the fuck did he think he was, treating me this way?
But beyond that, how was he even here? Mom told me everyone died that night. Every guest, every server, every staff member that was in that ballroom. The only reason Franklin survived was because he had left the house to deal with a business errand.
None of this was making sense.
And why the fuck was I being locked in a staff bedroom?
Callan must have been head of security or held some other position within the house that made him think he had the right to touch me, but after I talked to Franklin, I would made it clear he wasn’t to come near me again.
The door popped open, and a woman walked in a few minutes later. I realized I hadn’t followed instructions by tending to my wounds or putting on that bullshit uniform.
It wasn’t going to fucking happen.
But then again, with the way the woman looked at me, maybe it was. Hers was not an expression a smart person went up against and won.
“You must be Gretchen,” I snapped, pure venom in my voice because obviously these people forgot who I was.
She tapped her toe and stared at me like I was a child throwing a temper tantrum. I didn’t think anything could be colder than the look in her eyes, but then she spoke and proved me wrong.
“And you must be our newest employee who doesn’t know how to follow directions. I’m certain Edward explained that I expect you to be dressed and ready when I arrive.”
She had to be kidding. It was obvious everybody in this house was confused. I couldn’t blame them. I was gone for ten years, the entire staff had to replaced. How would they know who I was?
I was sure Callan had a hand in this. And if I had to be honest, I knew why. I’d treated him like a slave when we were younger, so maybe this was his screwed up idea