Page 6 of Speak No Claim

He chuckled. “Well then, how about a friend?”

I shook my head again. “That’s not much of a promotion from driver.”

He mockingly goaded. “Give me a week.”

I teased, “You think you’ll earn it by then?”

“No.” His smile faded.

* * *

“I think you’ll need it by then.”

Chapter

Two

Hennessy: When someone shows you who they are, believe them.

Unable to resist, I asked, “Whose estate is this?”

He eyed me cautiously for a second. “It belongs to your uncle’s best friend.”

I thought about it for a second. “Your answers only raise more questions, Alfred. So I’m guessing he’s a king, or is he a god? Because from the feel of it, he’s the Grim Reaper.”

I wasn’t joking, and he didn’t deny it.

Leaning into my theory, he cautioned, “You’ll learn soon enough, miss.”

I inhaled a deep, reassuring breath until I called him out. “You have a habit of saying a lot without actually saying anything. Everything you say sounds like a warning.”

“I’m just preparing you, miss.”

“For what, exactly? My tío or the Graves?”

“All of the above and to add, everything in-between.”

I slowly nodded, catching on. “It’s the in-between that I don’t like, so how about you tell me what I’m about to walk into?”

The corner of his lip curved. “Where would the fun be in that?”

“Ah, I see… you’re just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

He grabbed the labels of his jacket, proudly confirming, “I’m wearing a suit.” Opening his door next, he let me out before he added, “Good luck, Miss Belladonna. You’re going to need it.”

“Wait!” I snapped once I was standing outside. “You’re leaving me here by myself?”

“Miss, I don’t belong here.”

My gaze went wide. “And I do?”

He shrugged, making his way to his car door, yelling over his shoulder, “One way or another, you’re about to find out.”

After I warily watched him leave, my eyes drifted upward to an iron crest mounted on the highest peak of the mansion. It was a sea serpent. Its body was coiled around an old crest bearing the name “Devereaux.”

This wasn’t just an ornament or a design feature. It was a symbol of power that was established before you even crossed the threshold. Houses like these usually held ghosts and trauma, which I was more than familiar with.

My fingers instinctively glided over the smooth red-and-black seeds my grandmother had strung together into a bracelet before I left, saying it’d protect me from el mal de ojo, the evil eye. I believed in its power, and that belief was what gave it strength. In the same way the sea serpent crest was meant to.