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He turns to Sebastian. “No. Just found out.” I can’t tell if he’s lying or not. “How’s our Willow Girl? I hope you’re taking good care of her.”
I can almost hear Sebastian seethe when Gregory drags his gaze over me slowly, purposefully before stepping toward me.
“Find the irons?” he asks, his breath a whisper that makes me shudder and I wonder if that is what he’s doing? Looking for a mark?
“I want to go,” I say to Sebastian. “I don’t want to be here.”
“We’re staying, Helena,” Sebastian answers, eyes on Gregory. “We’ll be here until I clear the house of vermin.”
“Ouch,” Gregory says. “Does that mean only retarded brothers are allowed to stay?”
An instant later, Sebastian and Gregory are nose to nose and I grab Sebastian’s arm to try to pull him off.
“Stop it. Stop fighting!”
“This one’s not over you, Willow Girl. Mind your own fucking business,” Gregory says.
Sebastian takes hold of the collar of Gregory’s dress shirt and drags him to the banister, pushing him backward over it. His back is bent at what must be a painful angle.
Gregory just grins at him, as if daring him to do more. To hurt him. To throw him over.
“Stop, Sebastian. You’re going to hurt him. You’re going to really hurt him!”
It takes him a long minute, but I watch as Sebastian takes in the people downstairs, looks at his brother, at how he’s holding him.
It’s another few moments before he pulls him up, releases him and steps backward.
“Are you okay?” I ask Gregory.
He straightens the sleeves of his jacket, eyes on Sebastian, who turns his back.
“Like you care, Helena,” Gregory says. He shifts his gaze to me, finishes his drink which he somehow managed not to spill. “Like you give a fuck.”
Again, I find myself exhaling as I watch him disappear down the stairs and out the front door, depositing his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray.
“Christ,” Sebastian says.
“Please, let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”
“I can’t Helena. I have to make sure Lucinda does as she’s told.” He calls over a woman dressed in a uniform who comes out of one of the far rooms. “What’s your name?” he asks her.
“Marion, sir.”
“Marion. We need a room. Helena needs to lie down.”
She looks at me with concern.
“Of course. This way, Miss.”
“I don’t need to lie down,” I tell Sebastian.
“Go with her.” His gaze is down the stairs. “I need to take care of some things. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“Don’t go after him, Sebastian.”
He turns to me, cups my face with his big hands. “You’ll be safe. No one’s going to hurt you anymore. Go get some rest.”
I don’t have a choice, but between the time difference, the flight, Lucinda and, mostly, Gregory, I’m exhausted and I follow Marion into one of the bedrooms.23HelenaSebastian isn’t back when I wake up. It’s quiet and a glance at the window tells me it’s still night.
I get up, hug my arms to myself for the chill. The clock on the nightstand says it’s a little after three in the morning. I go to the window, which overlooks the back garden of the house. Even in the darkness, I can see the property is expansive.
In the bathroom, I splash water on my face, wondering where Sebastian is. Wondering how I fell asleep like I did.
When I open the door, the house is quiet. It’s almost like there’s no one here at all.
I step into the hallway and walk toward the stairs, pausing at the library doors, remembering.
It’s dark now, I don’t see any light from beneath the door. I’m barefoot so I don’t make any sound, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no one around, just a single lamp left on in the living room and a few glasses left behind as evidence of anyone having been here.
I creep down the stairs and go to the front door. It’s not locked, and I open it and I’m relieved to find the car we came in still parked in the same spot as when we got here.
I exhale, but what did I think? That Sebastian would leave me here?
There’s another lamp left on in the large dining room. Here, clean crystal tumblers and flutes and a variety of wine glasses stand ready to be put away in the morning. I assume the door leading off the dining room is the kitchen and there’s a sliver of light beneath the door.
I know it can be any one of them. Ethan or Lucinda or Gregory, but I go to it anyway, and I push it open a little.
But this room, too, is empty.
There’s a bottle of whiskey on the counter and two glasses on the table, each with the remnants of the amber liquid inside. The label is familiar. It’s the brand Sebastian and Gregory drink.
Finding a clean glass, I pour two fingers for myself. I don’t know why, it’s not like I like it, but I take it and sit down in one of the chairs at the table and sip.
