Page 28 of Colton

“Welcome to my humble home, Ms. Evans.”

Humble?

Humble.

Humble.

This entire place is within thirty feet of tall metal gates that resemble Victorian-era architecture. The metal is well preserved, its deep shade of black recently refreshed. It shines beautifully under the soft streaks of sun that manage to sneak through the thick trees surrounding it.

There’s a big eagle on the gate, staring right at me. It’s made with such care and precision that the details make me soak it all in, and I want to memorize it for a long time.

A man stands inside the gates and opens them wide for Colton. He passes through, and I’m still reeling from the insane gate, trying even to comprehend what’s in front of me. In the middle of the premises is a massive fountain, surrounded by beautiful roses.

And behind the fountain is a palace.

Yes, an actual palace.

I’ve never been to London before, but I have seen pictures of Buckingham Palace pictures, and I’d say this place is either the same size, or even slightly bigger. I barely notice Colton parking the car, my eyes glued to the front door. Just like the gate, it has a matching eagle.

“Are you coming?”

It takes me a moment to register that Colton has not only parked the car, but has also left the vehicle, come to my side, and opened the door for me. I blink, and unbuckle myself with trembling hands.

Even the air seems different.

I knew this entire place was built on money. Hell, I knew Colton was loaded. But this? This goes beyond any imagination I might’ve had. This man isn’t rich; he is extremely wealthy—the kind of wealth that goes back generations, if not centuries.

Given the state of the palace, albeit extremely well-preserved, I can tell it was built a long time ago. It makes my insecurities start to surface. Not only do I not belong at Saint Valley, the Academy, but I clearly feel out of place here, too.

My feet start carrying me toward the entrance, and I ignore the confused look Colton throws me over his shoulder. He’s a couple of steps in front of me, reaching for the door. Behind us, the car engine roars to life, and I glance backward, seeing a driver taking it away, presumably to the garage somewhere behind this massive building.

The door opens, and we’re greeted by a man in his late fifties, with greying hair and beard. He’s dressed in a tuxedo, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that kind of clothes must cost a fortune.

“Sir,” he nods at Colton, stepping aside for him to walk in. “And who is this?”

I respond before he can introduce me as his student, because even the man would think it’s strange for the Dean to bring home a student.

“Avalon Evans,” I offer a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I don’t know how to behave around these people. Besides, the clear British accent is quite intimidating. “And I’m assuming you’re the estate manager?”

The look on the man’s face might as well be pure betrayal. He looks as if I’d just slapped him senseless — or worse, killed his puppy ruthlessly. He clears his throat, straightening up, his posture perfect.

“I’m Emiliano, and I’m not an estate manager — I’m a traditional British butler, young lady. Please, mind your manners.”

A laugh threatens to slip past me, but I clear my throat instead, ignoring the way Colton’s lip seems to quirk upward. I nod, though I still have no idea how to behave around this man.

“My apologies, Emiliano.”

He smiles, and Colton takes off his coat. The routine seems well practiced, and balanced. Emiliano takes the coat, and steps back.

“Bring us tea.”

“Where to?”

Colton pauses. “The library.”

My curiosity piques, though I don’t ask anything. Emiliano nods, disappearing down the hall with the coat, leaving Colton and me all by ourselves. The door closes behind me, and I can’t stop staring.

My eyes are wandering around, glancing at every inch of this place. It’s entirely vintage, though the furniture is top-notch, making it a replica of the original time period.