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Minnow entered the lavishly appointed room then shook her head and almost backed into Church. “I can’t stay in here.” She’d be afraid to touch anything.
“They’re all like this, even in the supposed servant’s quarters, and this is where Sutton wants you,” he replied, putting her ratty old suitcase down on the five billion thread count duvet that was folded along the foot of the king-sized, four-poster, bed. “You can unpack, relax, wander. Do whatever you want until dinner. It’s at eight sharp every night. If you want some lunch there are always several plates of ready-to-eat food in the fridge.”
“Shouldn’t I be...doing something?”
Church winced, then continued in a low voice. “For today I’d keep my head down – give him time to get used to you being in his space before you try to approach him. Think stray dog.”
“More wolf than dog, from the looks of him,” she whispered back.
He grinned. “Yeah, maybe. Might have rabies too. Maybe mange. And, by the way, his bite is worse than his bark.” With those reassuring words, he grimaced and left.
She eyed the ornate dresser with trepidation. It seemed too nice to keep things in, to the point where just touching it without museum inspection gloves felt as if it might be sacrilege. The wardrobe was just as bad, but her suitcase was too much of an eyesore to leave out. Without other alternatives, she unzipped her case and put things away. She really hadn’t brought much that seemed classy enough for this place. Not that she owned much that was classy. Both Church and Ms Sutton had that understated, clean-lined and casual way of dressing that screamed money. So they weren’t servants? They were, more or less, his family? Church had called Severin his brother.
So, poor little damaged rich boy had been adopted by the people who were supposedly just the help. It would have made for an awesome Hallmark feel-good movie if he were a sweet child rather than a fully grown asshat.
A scuff sounded nearby, and she turned. Severin was standing in the hallway outside her door, his dark brows drawn low over his cold blue eyes. Her heart kicked into overtime, and she had to push away the fight or flight instinct. Every instinct she had screamed that she was in danger.
He was clean now, dressed in a loose T-shirt and torn jeans, his feet bare. How the man managed to find a T-shirt that was loose on him was a mystery. Fuck, he was huge. Now that his arms were clean, the tattoos were more eye-catching. And how had she missed the septum piercing? The man looked heart-stoppingly evil.
“Hi?” she said, watching him. She didn’t fake a smile. He didn’t seem the type to respond well to fake.
“You shouldn’t be here.” That voice again. So low, she was pretty sure it shook the floor or maybe it was her shaking.
She swallowed, trying to compose herself. “No? Ms. Sutton hired me.”
“I don’t need a fucking nanny.”
It was almost impossible not to imagine him with dripping fangs and raised hackles. The tattoos snaked up his neck in places, and they were hard not to stare at. His face was much more menacing than his artwork, and his eyes commanded her attention even as they made her want to avert her gaze.
“Of course you don’t need a nanny,” she replied. The man looked like he could explode in a fit of rage at any given second and snap her neck without a second thought. “Ms. Sutton was hoping I could help out around here, and that maybe you’d find me tolerable.”
He stared at her for a long moment, the coldness of his gaze making her want to shiver. “What kind of parents name their kid Minnow?”
She snorted, knowing he’d meant to insult her, but not giving him the satisfaction. Did he really think a woman her age would get flustered about her name? This wasn’t grade school.
“Religious people. Quasi-hippies. Think Godspell.” She leaned a shoulder on the bedpost and crossed her arms, trying to look nonchalant instead of slightly terrified. “I’m lucky they decided against Sunnybrook. Sounds like a retirement village.”
He arched a brow and walked away.
“Oookay. Bye,” she called out rudely after him, wondering why she was trying to bait him rather than cowering. Some sort of death wish, maybe.
Chapter Two
There was a stranger in his space.
He paced his room like a trapped animal, hating the waiting time until dinner even more today than he usually did. Fucking Church had gone to his wife and family for the rest of the day, and Sutton had already made it clear the girl was staying for at least a week. He wasn’t that messy. There was no reason why Sutton needed backup. She kept saying she was getting old, but she was exactly the same as she had been when she came to live with him and Church after their other mother died.
Yeah, Mom was dead, and eventually Sutton would be too. They all left. Even Church had moved out, even though there was plenty of room in the house for him and Ilse and the kids. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a dick to Ilse they would have tried it, but that was water under the bridge now. No way to fix it, even though she’d long since forgiven him. Probably.
He’d told Sutton, though, that if she had to bring in someone, it needed to be a man. Women were weird and flighty and got all prissy about things. This one was afraid of him, he could tell. Surprising she hadn’t run for the door yet. The thought of the way she’d watched him, as if he was a mugger in a dark alley, annoyed him. He hadn’t even done anything yet.
Finally the bell rang, and he headed downstairs, deliberately not looking into the girl’s room when he passed.
“What was that bell for?” she asked as he strode by.
“Dinner,” he muttered.
Great. She was stupid.
