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“More about antiques than architecture. But we do not speak his name. You’ve probably heard of him. Private airline mogul, retired now, and a raging homophobe. Hence the leaving me alone thing. If he doesn’t see it and doesn’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist.”
Molly hummed a sad sound. “I’m so sorry, Eli.” She pivoted at his blasé shrug and obvious disinterest in pity. “Well, I guess all things considered this isn’t the worst setting to be left to your own devices.”
“I do still have the house and access to the airfield, so there’s that.”
“I’m sorry, did—did you say airfield?”
“It’s about a mile down the property line in that direction.” He pointed directly at the massive house Molly had no hope of seeing beyond.
“Of course it is.” Molly said. “I assume there’s a plane hangar as well.” She was joking. Mostly joking.
Eli arched a brow and led her inside with a look that conveyed something along the lines of don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.
His expression twisted, flattening, as they passed through a grand entryway and into what Molly could only think to describe as a parlor.
It was the size of her entire apartment.
Eli sniffed the air, frowning.
He heaved a great sigh of annoyance before calling out, “Bentley! I know I’ve told you before. The smoke really sinks into the upholstery. If you have no concern for my wishes, at least have concern for the antique jacquards.”
Bentley, a man whose name Molly had heard, but who she didn’t recognize in the slightest, sat beside a window on the far side of the parlor.
He was perhaps the most stunningly symmetrical human Molly had ever seen. His sharp cheekbones, chiseled jawline, and deep-set dark eyes gave him an almost otherworldly quality. One that belonged on high-fashion runways or glossy magazine pages, not casually lounging in Eli’s house with his feet propped up on what had to be an excruciatingly expensive table, cigarette dangling in one hand. He lifted a single brow upon spotting Molly.
He released his breath, smoke propelling in front of him before it twisted and dissipated.
“Bentley Burke,” he said with a casual gesture at himself. “So. This is what Aster’s cards were about this week. Explains the swords. Does she remember, or do you have a death wish?”
“Cards?” Molly asked.
“Tarot. Bentley’s our in with all things arcane,” Eli said. Then he addressed Bentley. “And I prefer to think of it as a healthy fascination with the macabre. Why are you here?”
“I won’t be long, just working. I filled your fridge again too. You are aware you can’t survive on protein bars and mealy apples alone, aren’t you?”
“I—” Eli faltered. “I swear I’m going to set up that recurring grocery delivery soon. Besides, I have food.” He turned to Molly. “There’s food here. I would have found something. Or we would have ordered in. There . . . used to be staff. I didn’t like having all the people coming and going.”
Bentley returned his feet to the floor and slid a stack of mail to the edge of the table. “I checked your mailbox too. Went ahead and took care of this overdue pool maintenance fee.”
“I’m pretty sure mail tampering is a felony.”
“Mm-hmm. You’re welcome. I’ll send you the login information for the account I made. Set up an auto-pay.”
“I am a fully functioning adult, thank you.”
“Yes, you are,” Bentley agreed with what felt like true sincerity. He returned to his position of repose: feet up, leaned back. “But you’re also much better at taking care of other people than you are yourself. So somebody has to pitch in on your behalf.” He gestured vaguely, as if to indicate his willingness to take on such a task.
While Eli seemed deeply perplexed, Molly couldn’t help but feel incredibly touched for him. In all of ten seconds, Bentley Burke had won her over.
If Eli had further commentary, it was cut off by the sound of footsteps in the distance.
“Ah, this’ll be interesting,” Bentley said. Then he raised his voice and called out, “Aster, Eli’s back.”
“Oh, good,” Aster’s voice carried from the next room, growing closer. “Eli, I’ve grabbed some of your old math and science books from the library. You wouldn’t believe the cost to buy them new these days. I’ve got a kid wanting to do some advanced work, far above her grade level. Parents are basically Luddites, won’t let us use any digital—”
Molly felt the size of the parlor shrink by half the moment Aster came into view. He stopped dead in his tracks. For a man already moonlight pale in his complexion, somehow even more color drained from his face. His gaze shifted from Eli to Molly, briefly to Bentley, and then back to Eli.
A low noise slipped from the back of Aster’s throat. Molly might have gone so far as to call it a growl.
