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Maybe I shouldn’t have been turning him down during all those phone calls he made to me.
We walk up the stone steps. A staff member opens the massive oak doors for us. My breath catches in my throat as I step over the threshold into the grand foyer of the castle. There’s nothing gothic or creepy about it. It’s one of the most beautiful spaces I’ve ever been in.
I arch my neck, staring up at the three stories of open tower that soar above our heads, arched windows letting out the warm golden light I first saw when I stood in the front yard. The ceiling is made of stained planks of wood, trimmed into triangles and meeting in a point at the interior top of the tower.
Under my feet, the white marble flooring is inlaid with a red diamond pattern that forms a star bursting out from the center of the room. Gold and glass tables sit on the perimeter of the circular room, their edges curved to follow the rounded walls. Thin branches with green leaves and fresh white Popcorn Viburnum, living up to their name with their fluffy white flowers, stand in tall glass vases.
He leads me deeper into the castle. I’m surprised by how warm the lighting is, how tastefully the place is decorated. Thick Persian carpets in warm reds and golds and blues. Gold chandeliers and sconce lighting, but they’re not ornate, just simple in their beauty.
We enter a large room; its stucco walls are painted a soft dove gray, and dark wood beams stretch out across the entirety of the white ceiling overhead, placed every few feet. Multiple couches are arranged around the room, their fabric deep reds and blues. They look so soft I’d want to collapse into one if I wasn’t so keyed up. The largest stone fireplace I’ve ever seen sits at one end of the room, boasting a roaring wood-burning fire, the cozy sound of wood crackling filling the room. The mantel is a long, gorgeous piece of polished wood, taken from a tree on the island, I assume. Its edge follows the natural grain in the wood, curving in and out.
“My favorite room,” he says.
“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”
He seems to like my approval, and a little tension leaves his shoulders as he watches my face as I admire the place.
The back wall of the room is all glass rectangular doors outlined in black metal. He flips a switch on the wall and the backyard lights up. He flicks another and, like magic, the doors start to ease to the right, folding into one another.
“You’re welcome out here anytime. Just stay close to the castle.” We step out onto a gorgeous stone veranda overlooking the lake.
The yard is manicured, each blade of green grass standing perfectly at attention. He’s got a full outdoor kitchen, a gas fireplace, a movie screen, and plenty of outdoor seating that looks sleek but cozy. Stone pavers circle a lit, in-ground pool complete with hot tub and a little waterfall flowing from the edge of its wall back down into the pool. Steam rises from the blue-lit water, calling me into its warm depths.
“One more thing.” He gestures to the right.
“Huh?” It takes a moment for me to close my dropped jaw and tear my gaze away from the backyard to see what he’s pointing at. In the dark night I can barely see the small stone cottage sitting by the lakeshore in the distance. “What’s the one thing?”
His dark eyes hold mine. “Never, ever step foot in the boathouse.”
“Well, that sounds ominous enough.”
I’m reminded of the off-limits west wing of the Disney version of the Beast’s castle and my imagination wanders. Is he hiding a rose, trying to break a curse as each petal falls? My goodness, will there be a singing teapot at my disposal? I can’t stop the giggle that bursts forth from my mouth then somehow finds its way into my nose. My hand covers my face, but the unattractive snort still escapes.
He gives me a look crossed somewhere between amusement and annoyance.
I have to ask. “What’s in the boathouse?”
The look turns to a steely gaze of warning.
“Doesn’t matter, does it? Just stay away.” With that he turns on his bootheel, leading me back into the house. “Oh, yeah. And I forgot to tell you. There’s no internet and no cell reception on this island. Your phone is useless here. I’ll get in touch with the family and let them know you’re on an extended vacation.”
Umm…. He just told me I have no contact with the outside world while I’m here. And no access to online shopping and my obsessive Pinterest boards either. “No phone? No internet?” I rush to catch up with him.
Just a few hours ago, I was ready to leave the club and go back to my townhouse. Lonely, yes, but safe. Very safe. Now I’m here. With him. The boathouse is off-limits. No way to call anyone. The only way off this island is by boat.
How on earth did this happen?
8
Beast
It’s goingto be tough, working with her here. I’ve kept the family secret this long though; I won’t let my impromptu houseguest ruin it now. She’ll just have to behave or have that nosy streak whipped right out of her with my belt.
I have a full staff here. Chef Remy I stole from a little French bistro in uptown. My head of housekeeping is a twenty-five-year-old firecracker who runs the house like a woman who’s been doing this for decades. Five housekeepers, seven groundskeepers, and a slew of boat crew that rotate day and night shifts.
Day shift for the needs my staff and I have for getting on and off the island. Night shift for bringing my precious cargo onto the island under the cover of darkness. Sounds dramatic, but no one, not one person outside of a very small circle of men, can know what it is we do here on Dark Island.
I introduce Charlie to my key staff, leaving her in their very capable hands to be toured around the castle and settled into her room. This house has seventeen guest rooms and I made sure she’ll be put up in the one next to mine.
