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“No thank you.” Ashby’s hard gaze shifts over my shoulder with a flicker of something lifelike in his eyes. If he worked for me, I’d fire him. Unfortunately, he’s paid by the trust that runs the estate, same as Dalton, same as the rest of the staff. A trust that I’ll be upending if things go as I plan.
And they always go as I plan.
I turn my head to look behind me but don’t see anything of interest.
When I turn back, his eyes are back on mine. “Will that be all?”
I start to say something shitty in reply, but from behind him I see my family attorney, Dalton Myer, approaching. He’s got the same gray pallor and suit that makes him look more like a butler than the actual butler.
He and Ashby give each other some weird knowing look, then Ashby retreats out the door on a bow.
I march back behind the desk with Dalton following, then pinch the bridge of my nose before dropping back in the chair and grabbing my phone to check my messages. It’s a hell of a time to be away from my offices in Chicago, but for years I’ve been trying to find a loophole that would allow me to unload this monstrosity and put in an airport on the land.
Only, my great-grandfather’s will and trust is ironclad.
“You wished to see me?” Dalton asks and I give him a squint.
“Yes. But, how did you kn…” I wave my hand in front of my face, deciding to leave it alone. I just want this party to get started so it can be finished. “Whatever. Is all the equipment in place and tested?”
“Yes,” he answers, his lips barely moving when he speaks. His skin looks like it’s been embalmed. “Every bedroom is wired as requested, all of the public areas where the guests will be allowed are as well. Cameras with night vision. Listening devices. All in place per your plans, all functioning. Monitors and control equipment are set up in your command center, per your diagram. The…ahem…extra effects equipment is all installed and tested as well.”
“Great. Are all the guests coming? Anyone back out?”
“No, sir. Four limousines are en route, each with a guest. Each was presented with the packet of terms for the weekend per the trust executors’ stipulations. I will proceed with questions and signatures upon their arrival. They should all arrive at eight PM sharp.”
I sniff on a stifled chuckle, looking at my watch. I’ve spent some time here over the years and I know the rumors about the sightings, the cold drafts, the whispers. But it can all be explained by less than supernatural reasons. Still, it’s the rumors that are going to make my plan work to my favor.
“Great,” I answer. “I’ll be here sequestered in the west wing. No one is to know I’m here. The entry to this wing will stay locked at all times. Only you, Ashby and my sister are allowed access. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Worthington. Carolyn’s car was pulling in as I passed the front hall on my way to you.”
“Fine. That’s all,” I finish, looking at Dalton, whose eyes are following something behind me. “What the fuck do you keep looking at? You’ve been doing that since I got here this morning. Looking past me…”
“Nothing, sir. Just bad habit.” He brings his eyes back to mine, but his answer leaves me wondering. “Will that be all?”
With a sigh, I nod, knowing I’m not going to get any more out of him. “Yes, Jeeves, that will be all.”
He ignores the snide comment, nodding and leaving, and I shake my head as I lean back in my chair confident that in a matter of a few days, my plans for putting together the airport deal will be moving forward.
I pack up my laptop and pocket my cell, working my way through the hallways lined with gilded mirrors and paintings that date back hundreds of years. As I get to the top of the massive double marble staircase, I stop and stare upward, a chill coursing through me like it always does when I look at the life-size portrait hanging above.
It’s my eyes I see staring back. But it’s more, it’s me, only it’s not.
It’s my great-grandfather, standing behind a chair that looks like a throne. Upon it sits a stern-faced, raven-haired woman with tight lips and what these days would be called a resting bitch face—who was his wife and my great-grandmother, Sylvia. Her gaze follows me, a glare more than a glance, and I know if she knew me, she’d hate me too. As much as she did my great-grandfather.
I’m not evil. Just focused. Self-centered, maybe. If you ask one of the few women I’ve dated in the past, I’m sure they’d agree, although my last date was nearly a decade ago. After another disaster of an evening, I decided to quit trying to live the life society said I should. Women are wonderful, don’t get me wrong. It’s just, deep down I always wanted something more. A family, a woman that gave me that…I don’t know, charge?
