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The whole of the downstairs is lit up, exactly like I used to have it when I was left here on my own. But it’s odd that all the sadness I used to feel stalk me through these walls, I don’t anymore.
Searching my handbag on the kitchen counter, I fish out my now silent phone.
Big Man: Call me.
He’s probably on his way home with Grace. When he’s driving home, he likes to call me, sometimes to tell me about Grace’s day with Mercia or Penny. Most of the time to ask me about our day. It’s our thing. And it’s Casper through and through.
He loves hard, caring deeply for those he holds dear. He’s a protector, and I’d be lying if I said that isn’t one of the traits I love the most about him.
Almost startled by my phone’s ringing, I answer it as I grab Arabella’s and my handbags and head slowly back to the library.
“I was about to call you,” I tell him as I pause outside the wine cellar door. The tassel on the key is missing.
Mum used to put them on all the keys so that we knew which went with each room.
“Hmm, are you and my sister busy chatting again?” Casper asks with a faint chuckle.
He’s exhausted. I can hear it in his voice. The lull of it is dimmed, and it makes my chest tighten. Guilt whirls inside me at the thought that he’s fading and still trying to look after me when I should be the one looking after him right now.
“Why don’t I make dinner tonight? It’s been a long week even though it’s only Wednesday.”
“I want to spend time with you,” he sighs. “I don’t want you cooking and cleaning.”
“Is everything okay? Has something happened?” Something about his tone is bothering me. I don’t like it. Casper never sounds like he wants to retreat. It’s not who he is. Every problem gets dealt with head-on, unless there’s a bigger issue.
“Yeah, same old. You know?”
“Tell me about it.”
“I will later.”
Nodding, even though he can’t see me, I tell him, “I’ll finish up here for today. You’re right—we talked and ate sweets and nothing more. The least I can do is cook you dinner.”
“No cooking,” he murmurs. “We can order in. Tonight, we’re going to eat, get Grace down, and I’m going to fuck the life out of you.”
We both chuckle at that. My body trembles with need at the mere promise of what he’s going to do to me later.
“I like that.”
“I’m going to be later than I thought. Not much. An hour tops. And I’ll still collect Grace.”
“No, I will. You finish up and go home, okay?” I start for the library again, only to stop when I notice part of the wine-red tassel peeking from under the cellar door.
Turning the knob while I listen to his low breathing, I get the oddest sense of the heebie-jeebies.
“I’ll see you soon, beautiful trouble.”
“I can’t wait, big man,” I breathe distractedly as I twist the knob one more time, only to find that the door really is locked.
Odd because all the doors were left wide open after the guys searched the house. I closed them last time we were here out of habit. We always had the doors closed unless we were using the rooms.
I’m about to turn the key, and my heart is already hammering in my throat in such a way that makes me jump when Arabella asks, “We doing this?”
I tamp down the odd feeling that’s making me on edge, taking a deep breath so that I can reply without making her worry.
“I have an hour before Casper heads home, and I said I’d pick up Grace on the way. He sounds too tired to be driving, let alone driving with her in the car.”
One of the security guys opens the front door and steps inside, posting himself in front of the door. They normally stay outside after they’ve swept the house before we come in. Which explains why the cellar door is locked. Most people lock doors when the keys are in the keyhole.
