Page 27 of Unwritten Rules

Their daughter, lady’s maid, Lesley.

Brothers Gavin and Roger, gardeners.

Monique, the chef, alongside two other kitchen staff I don’t recognise.

The noticeable absence of Wetherby sends a shot of alarm through me, accompanied by a heavy dose of guilt at not being aware of his current health situation, having removed myself entirely from this world and everything in it.

“I’ll call again tomorrow.”

Zara’s statement draws my attention, but before I can say or do anything, Mila has taken matters into her own petite and competent hands.

“Don’t bother. You won’t get as warm a reception from me as you received from Nate.”

Her voice is dripping with unconcealed hostility. Her eyes, never having left mine, are flashing golden flames, and fuck me if it doesn’t turn me on entirely too much.

There’s that Hellcat in all her glory.

Zara narrows her eyes into thin slits at Mila’s back before flouncing away in the direction of the Gate House, which is apparently her home now.

Fuck my life.

Mila holds her hand out to me, and I quickly cross the distance to link her arm with mine before we make our way to the waiting staff.

Each one bestows hesitant and respectful well wishes until we find ourselves before Quentin and Johanna, both wearing broad smiles.

“Sir, we are so pleased you have returned home. And welcome to your lady—”

I cut Johanna off before everyone surrounding us get the wrong idea.

“This is Mila DeMarco, Henry’s little sister. She shall be staying for the foreseeable future while she attends Walden-Forbes. Therefore, I shall need two bedrooms prepared immediately.”

Johanna’s eyes blow wide at the simple request, and my stomach dips nauseatingly before she ever speaks the ill-fated words.

“Sir, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Before he passed, your father placed every room outside of the staff quarters on lockdown. He had all the furniture removed and put in storage. He bade Lady Hawthorne lock them until the entirety of his will was enacted. Every room aside from yours and….”

She trails off, squirming visibly before Quentin speaks in her stead.

“And his. Which I’m doubting you’ll be wanting to use, no?”

* * *

Once I’d gotten over that spanner in the works, Mila had said she needed to freshen up. So I make short work of whisking her through the house and straight to my quarters.

There’s exactly zero chance of me heading over to the Gate House to plead with Zara for the keys she undoubtedly has.

You want to sleep beside her too, though, don’t you?

I shake my head to dispel my crazy thoughts, though if I’m honest with myself, the idea of being at hand in case of further nightmares is also a factor.

What was that mad bastard thinking?

I can’t quite wrap my head around if there’s a method to his madness or if it’s just simply madness.

“So…is this going to be like our old sleepovers, then?”

Mila, having changed into simple yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt and looking entirely too beautiful, flops onto the couch beside me, dropping her head onto my shoulder.

“Because if it is…you know which side is mine.”