“Yes,” Theodora confirms, her smile slightly strained. “Julian has faced some complications lately, and I feel he could use the comfort of it. Just… make sure not to say anything. If you encounter them, just be your usual nice self.”
My usual nice self doesn’t truly exist. Sure, I put my best foot forward at work, but I’m not truly such a nice guy. A bit too impulsive, overly obsessed with justice, and far too possessive of those I care about—but not inherentlykind.
I nod anyway, smiling as she floats out of the room. Her opinion of me is far more important than the truth, anyway.
Back in my late twenties, before I managed to escape Austin, Texas, I was working as a chef at a local seafood restaurant. The days were long, and the pay was shit—add on what had happened with my family, and I was dying to get out of Texas.
And then I made a particularly delectable rendition of stuffed crab on greens, and the customer who ordered it wanted to meet the cook who whipped it up. That customer? Abraham Chastain.
After making him two more dishes—mushroom soup and steak, medium rare, with garlic roasted asparagus—he offered me a job.
One that moved me far away from Austin and gave me a stipend to rent a little house not far from the estate. And yes, I never saw myself working in a castle on some remote cliff. And sure, I know nobody here but the Chastains themselves, but I’ve never been happier.
Plus, the organization allows me to work remotely. Not that I’m paid—it’s more of a justice thing. A top-secret, stressful, and fulfilling justice thing.
“And this is the kitchen, though I don’t go in there a lot. Our cook, Barfred, is normally pretty…” Julian’s words, which I can hear through the closed kitchen door, trail off as three sets of footsteps are led further down the hall.
He must be giving his friends a grand tour of the estate. I’m sure he knows not to show them the west tower; Julian’s a smart guy.
I believe that Julian and Jeremy were smart hires. After being here for so long, treating this family as my own, I’ve become a bit protective of them. But Jeremy is kind and wise, always willing to assist and make himself useful. And his son, Julian, is a natural when it comes to the youngest Chastain, Abigail.
Of course, Atticus detests him—Atticus detests anyone who interferes with his family. But everyone else loves the guy, and I can see why.
He’s charming. And if he were just a bit… brattier, I believe I would find myself attracted to him and his sturdy body.
But I guess it’s a good thing I’m not—I’ve seen the way Atlas eyes him. If the boy were able to date in his condition, I fear he’d beallover that. And Julian’s no better.
It makes me happy to see such loving families surrounding me. Between Julian and his father’s bond and the time I’ve spent getting to know the Chastains, I’m constantly reminded that familiescanbe loving and good.
Abraham and Theodora, the Master and Missus of Chastain Castle, are doting and gentle. Their sons, Atticus and Atlas, aredutiful, brilliant young men. And Abigail, the youngest, is a sweet little thing.
All of these people are good-intentioned and kind—something I didn’t see a lot of growing up.
My family… well, they’re inherently evil. While I’m neutral between the two sides of yin and yang, they’re the bad side. Malicious. The side that was given their lot in life and used it to their advantage.
I have no remorse for what I did to stop them. I have no guilt for teaming with the organization and ridding the world of its tyranny.
“Excuse me,” a soft yet deep voice calls as I’m standing at the sink once more, my back to the door.
“Yes? How can I…” As I turn, my eyes fall on a man I’ve never seen before, and my words slowly die off. They disappear. They’re pulled from my body and completely discarded in the face of one of the prettiest, most vibrant men I’ve ever seen.
AndIlive with Atlas Chastain.
He’s got soft brown hair that’s neatly arranged to keep it from falling onto his forehead, bright, wide green eyes, and a body sculpted from marble.
This must be one of Julian’s friends. Ofcoursehe’s hot.
But would he test me? Would he fuel that desperate need to conquer and fight that I have simmering inside of my bones?
The man smiles, making his way slowly to stand on the side of the island that Theodora occupied not too long ago.
“How can I help you?” I finally finish.
He’s staring at me like he’s winning something, as if he knows exactly what his face and his body are doing to me in this moment. Like he’s used to being praised and fawned over.
“Julian sent me to ask for tea,” he says. “My name is Landon.”
Landon. It’s such a pretentious, pretty-boy name, and it suits him well. It’s perfect.
