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Chapter Seventeen
Adam
Thebreakfastroomisin shambles. If the furniture and fixtures weren’t of the highest quality, they would litter the room in splinters and other broken pieces. My stomach burns as I watch Olivia run from the room. Miran studies me, quite bemused. He questions my methods and whether I’ve grown softer. I’m on the verge of picking him up and throwing him across the room as well. Yet, I burn from shame. Sometimes, I hate how angry I can become. But this time, it’s justified, no? Why, then, did I feel the need to reach out and apologize as soon as she fled?
After Miran’s departure, I’ve been walking up and down, past Olivia’s room door, wrestling with myself. While Townes’ debt doesn’t matter much to me, I don’t take kindly to anyone trying to deceive me. His disappearance makes me feel like he’s managed to score one against me. How dare he think he can outsmart me?
And her. She must know where he is. She must be in on this scheme as well. Still, the memory of the horror I caused to appear in those beautiful brown eyes once again, stops me from kicking her door in. I find myself rationalizing that her father, like mine, has betrayed her. Maybe she doesn’t know where he is, and I’ve just frightened her for no reason.
Ugh! I fist my hands. What is the matter with me? I don’t want to care about her feelings. I don’t want to find any reason to believe in her innocence. In fact, I want her to prove to me that she’s a deceptive wretch. The sooner she does so, the better. Cocksucker! Why can’t she do something to help me kill these fantasies I’ve drawn up about her in my head?Prove to me that you can’t be trusted. Prove to me that I’m right to keep my distance from you! Oh, prove it to me for the love of…
I groan, raising my fist. I’m about to rest my forehead against her door, contemplating whether I should knock, when Carlson comes up the stairs. Heat floods up my neck, and I curse myself. What if he had witnessed me pining for her at the door? The news would spread like wildfire through the rest of the house. They’d see past my armour. They’d mock me. Laugh at me. Just as before.No!I must get a hold of myself.
Clearing my throat, I drop my fist and turn to face him with the hardest jaw and sternest face I can muster, as he informs me that I’m needed in the study. A few of my collectors have returned from their journeys with the money they’ve been able to retrieve from those that owed me. This is where my head needs to be. Not on her and her daft feelings. Spinning away from her door, I march alongside Carlson, more than happy to be as far away from her as I can get.
An hour has passed, and my mind has settled into the thrilling discussion of money and tales about how the collectors managed to ‘persuade’ some of the unwilling debtors to pay. The metallic scent of gold, silver, and copper mixed with tobacco smoke and spirits manages to capture my focus. I’m not bogged down by thoughts of Olivia any longer. Thank goodness.
As I count out the heavy bags of coins and sort out the collectors’ payments, I’m feeling more like myself again when my door is pushed open. Immediately, my hand reaches for my pistol, and I point it at the intruder. It’s Lucian.
“What in the bloody hell are you doing?!” I ask. Everyone, especially Lucian, knows not to mess with me when I’m dealing with money. I could have easily shot his head from his body.
“Can I speak to you outside?” Lucian asks.
“I’m busy,” I grunt.
“It’s important,” he returns with urgency.
Releasing a noisy, rattled breath, I turn to the men. “Give me a second. And don’t try pocketing any of the money. Thanks to Lucian here, I must start over counting from scratch.” I glare at Lucian, but he only steps outside the door and waits for me. Huffing, I face the men again. “So, I’ll know if any of you touch anything. And you know what’ll happen to you if you do,” I warn, before joining him. This better be bloody worth it.
“Olivia isn’t in her room,” he says when I close the door behind me.
“Okay?” I ask, getting angrier by the second. Is this the big emergency? “Did you search the rest of the house?”
“I didn’t have to,” he says. “Olivia escaped.”
My brain jerks around in my head a little, and I grow dizzy. “What do you mean?” I ask, aware how silly I sound and want to punch myself in the throat.
“I mean, her door was blocked with furniture and when I managed to get into the room, she was gone,” he responds. “What do you want us to do?” he asks.
“Well, go and look for her, you bloody twat!” I wave toward the rest of the house.
This can’t be happening. This is impossible. There’s no way she could have escaped when I have so many guards. The doorknob almost breaks under my grasp when I enter the study.
“All of you, get out! I’ll sort out your payments later but right now, you’re going to have to help me with something,” I yell at the collectors.
If this woman has simply wandered into another part of the house, and Lucian interrupted me for no reason, having me employ everyone to go in search of her like a dimwit, he’s going to feel the blast of my rage. My body shakes, and it separates from itself. As everyone else searches every inch of the house, I hurry back toward her room for some personal proof.
The door to the bedroom has been broken off the hinges. I can hear the thump of my heart like the feet of Goliath approaching. The evidence is already clear enough to warn me that this won’t get any better. I pull the door away to see the heavy chest of drawers, chipped on the back.
I’m almost impressed by her strength and determination. A lady might have struggled to move something so heavy. But she isn’t a lady. She’s said that often enough. The chest blocks my path of entrance into the room, and from the doorway, I can see that my wooden floors are streaked from the drag. The rug is tossed up, revealing the dust beneath.
I roar, throwing the mahogany chest of drawers to the side with ease. The room warms significantly, and the scarf around my neck seems to tighten as I lay eyes on the silks tied to the bedpost and hanging out the window. The clever wench!
Hurrying toward her means of escape, I push my head out the window to see the silks extending toward the ground. It was a long descent, but obviously successful. The decreasing oxygen and erupting blood crackles and pops like explosions beneath my skin as I stare into the woods.
“Oliviaaaaa!!!!!” I growl. My voice bounces off the trees and mountains as it’s swept away by the wind. Birds shriek and flutter away from their hiding places. Wolves howl in response. She can’t have gone far. After ripping the silks from the bedpost, I run from the room, alerting the rest of the house. “Everyone! Search the woods! If you find her, bring her back alive!”
If she dies, it’ll be by my hands alone, if the wolves don’t get to her first.
