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The edges of Brett’s lips trickled upwards in a suppressed smile, and he nodded. "Yes, sir,” he said as he pulled the car around the circular driveway. The woman was in high heels and her dress was so short, it was riding up her ass. She was walking strange, as if she'd never worn heels before.
When we offered to take her to her car, she didn't hesitate and climbed in, thanking me. We were silent for most of the way and, after a while, I had to ask her. “What will Nero do with the blood?”
Her eyes widened and she clutched the bag closer to her torso, as if I was going to jerk it from her. "I can't tell you that."
I nodded, understanding, then let my eyes fall to her dress. "Are you a real doctor?"
"Of course I am."
"And do you usually dress like that for work?"
She shifted uncomfortably, pulling down her dress. "Not usually, but Nero thought it might be more appropriate when I work with him, given my new...duties."
I bit down on my lower lip, considering her. The woman didn't seem to be too happy with her new job.
Nero was probably forcing her to do whatever it was with Bourbon’s blood that he wanted. Giving him a blow was just something he considered his perks by employing her.
I sighed, staring out the window, deciding I wasn’t going to stand by and let my father do whatever the hell he wanted with the people around him.
As we dropped the woman off at her car, I resolved then and there that I was going to try to get the doctor out from under his thumb. I said my thanks to Brett, then climbed out of the car, taking in a deep breath as I stared up at the mansion.
I suddenly realized that I hadn't missed the place.
In fact, being back home felt like chains were wrapped around me again. It was stifling and suffocating.
I hated it.
And now, I had to feed and take care of Rose's sister.
As I walked through the front door, I clamped down on my emotions, determined I wouldn’t let them affect me.
Marisol, the cook who had been in our family as long as I could remember, was waiting for me when I entered, holding a plate of freshly baked cookies and a smile. "Coulter. Estás aquí. You're home."
Something inside me loosened and I leaned over, giving her a hug and kiss on the cheek. She was short, barely reaching my chest, with bronzed skin and large, brown eyes. When she reached over, hugging me back, her plump body enveloped mine with warmth.
She didn't mention Bourbon and I figured my father must have informed her that Bourbon wasn't going to be staying here. Either that or she'd lived here long enough to know not to ask questions.
"Here,” after she let me go, she thrust the plate of cookies at me.
“Thanks.” I tried to smile, realizing that she was only trying to make me feel better. I stuffed a couple into the pocket of my Armani suit, because no one ever said no to Marisol. She turned and replaced the cookies with another tray of food, passing it over to me. “This is for the young lady.”
She acted as if Aster was here voluntarily, a special guest in our home, instead of taken against her will. I guessed even the servants had their own ways of coping. “After you serve her, I will give you the other tray,” she nodded, picking up another platter, “Nero said that he wants you to feed the man from now on.”
I noticed that there was significantly better quality food on the plate that had Aster’s food. It looked like my father was holding up his end of the deal to treat Aster well in exchange for the weapons and drugs.
Marisol began to walk up the stairs and I followed behind her, noticing that her straight, dark-brown hair had grown to the top to her waist. She turned left, heading down the hallway in the opposite direction of my father's rooms.
"Do you know who the man is?” I asked Marisol.
She clicked her tongue. "You know as well as I do that I don't speak of Mr. King's business, ever. Unless I want to lose my job."
Or your life, I wanted to add, though I didn't. However, that might not be correct. If my father would ever show anyone leniency, it would be Marisol. Her cooking skills were the only way to my father's heart, and not the blood that ran through our veins.
She'd worked for him since before my mom brought me to live here and, from what I could gather, since Bourbon was a baby too. She'd probably been the only woman in his life for this long.
As we walked, I glanced around, looking for my younger brothers. I wasn't surprised that they weren't waiting for me when we arrived, but I'd hoped to at least talk to them. My mom had asked me to keep an eye out for them.
“Where are the twins?”
