Page 31 of Trapped By the Blood Ruby

I cleared my throat. “I… You don’t mind if I borrow a few of yours?”

“Darling, they’re yours. Just care for them kindly, and don’t you dare dog-ear the pages.”

I let out a gasp. “I would never!”

“Good.” She studied me a moment longer, before turning back to the display before us. It stretched all the way to the walkway above. She moved away momentarily, grabbed a rolling ladder, and climbed up several feet.

“Here,” she said, bringing down a book. “This one’s new. Got it from the author two weeks ago. Devoured it in half a day. It’s not set to release for another three months.”

A screech wrenched from my chest. “You got an advanced copy of Nikalia Cohen’s new book?!”

I wasn’t going to lose it. I was not going to lose it. Okay, I was losing it. “How?” I demanded.

“We’re…” She cleared her throat. “Friends.”

“Friends?! You’re serious? Nikalia Cohen? Really? She’s like, the highest selling fantasy romance author of all time.”

“Dead serious.” Her eyes twinkled. “Now, shall I leave you in here, or would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“There’s more?” More importantly, after discovering this treasure trove of books, did I care?

“Just the basement. You might want to see it.”

“Oh. Okay.” I hugged NC’s book to my chest as she led me out of the library and downstairs. The basement was lit with artificial lighting. It was a massive, open space.

Fine. I could admit that it was worth seeing.

“This doesn’t span the entire house, of course. There are other parts accessed elsewhere that—well, I doubt Laurent would appreciate me showing you. But here, you’re welcome to this whenever you’d like.”

It was a massive game and activities room, and it had literally everything. Televisions, a wet bar, three pool tables, foosball, air hockey, and a plethora of other games and card tables. “Are those bowling lanes?!”

“You’re going to catch flies with your mouth, darling.”

“Oh. Right.” I snapped my mouth closed.

Zola suddenly froze, then cocked her head as if to listen to something I couldn’t hear. “I’m needed upstairs. You have free range of the manor. Go where you wish. If the door is locked, it is locked for good reason. But everything else…” She waved a hand.

“What about…outside?”

She lifted a shoulder. “If you’re brave enough.” Then she leaned in and kissed one cheek and then the other. “I’ll find you later. Enjoy the book.”

I was left standing alone, clutching it to my chest, trying to understand how something like this mansion could even exist. Literally everything in it surpassed my wildest dreams. Suddenly, I found myself wondering if captivity might not be so bad after all. Which was how I knew I needed a better plan to escape.

9

Iflipped the page on my current read before glancing up, distracted by the sound of an engine. I was comfortably settled on my tummy, propped on my elbows, lounging beneath the shade of a massive oak tree. A checkered picnic blanket was spread beneath me. A basket sat near my elbow, previously filled with goodies I’d already laid out.

The air was warmer today and a small breeze tickled my skin. Two days had come and gone, both spent reading. Books had always been an escape for me. During the first eighteen years of my life, I would have completely lost it without them. They’d gotten me through the hardest parts of my life. My gradeschool libraries carried some of my fondest memories.

If I couldn’t escape Laurent’s manor on my own two feet, then at least I could escape into the pages of a book. I’d already burned through Nikalia Cohen’s new book and two others. This one was my fourth, and I was nearly finished. I shoved a bookmark between the pages and closed it, changing my position to sitting.

The manor grounds were vast, but I hadn’t wanted to stray. Mostly out of fear given what had happened. So I’d chosen a spot not far from the kitchen.

A delivery truck came to a stop at the end of the small gravel drive. A driver got out, glanced in my direction, waved, then lifted the back hatch to reveal stacks of boxes.

Vittorio stepped out of the back door, glancing in my direction before greeting the driver. They broke into conversation, too low to reach my ears. I shifted on the blanket, watching them. The delivery driver began piling boxes on a hand truck. He wheeled them into the house.

Finally, an inkling of a plan took shape in my mind.