AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Staring at the message, I find myself torn about how to respond. It’s not like I’ve changed my mind; his plan to put a hit on Lars O’Neil was a bad one. I should stick to my guns and deal with the consequences. It’s about time someone stood up to Connor. ThatIstood up to Connor.
I let the air flow in and out of my lungs a couple more times before responding.
ARNIE: Thankfully, someone figured it out for me.
CONNOR: Ha. What would you do without me?
Chapter Twelve
Roisin
The quiet stillness of Arnie’s house surrounds me as I wander through its dimly lit hallways. Each step I take seems to echo with the weight of time and neglect.
It’s not that the place isn’t majestic. The sheer number of rooms is insane, and once upon a time, someone made a lot of effort to make them look timelessly elegant.
But now their grandeur has faded, and their walls seemed to whisper tales of better days.
It didn’t take long for me to start exploring the house again after Arnie left. Once the chill had left my bones and Angus provided me with a new set of sweats, I had to do something to distract myself from my predicament.
But the truth is, Arnie’s house only seems to make me feel more depressed. It’s not hard to imagine what it would be like if a family lived here. Children running around, maids and chefs and gardeners passing each other in the corridor with a smile, and God, the parties you could throw here.
Yet now, every space that had once been a testament to opulence and elegance is a sad and faded echo of its former self. Despite the riches and rarities that cling to every wall and stand proud upon the floor, I’ve never been to a place that felt soempty.
Suddenly desperate to stave off the gnawing loneliness that seems to have begun growing in my stomach, I begin the trek down to the kitchen. Angus had said if I needed him, I would be able to find him there.
When I enter, tentatively peering around the doorframe before I do, it’s to find him reading a newspaper over a cup of coffee. The image is such a cliché I almost giggle out loud.
“You know,” I say instead, alerting Angus to my presence. “Arnie told me that he used to pretend he was Batman.”
I make my way over to the coffee machine in the corner, suddenly craving the caffeine.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” Angus murmurs.
“Does that make you ‘Alfred’ then?” I tease.
Angus merely peers at me from over his paper.
“No.”
I give him a mock salute before turning back to the machine. It takes me a second to figure out which buttons to press, but after a moment, a latte begins pouring into my mug. At least, I think it’s a latte. Whatever it is, it’s warm and creamy and smells delicious. As I wait, I turn and lean against the counter.
“So, what do you usually get up to when Arnie isn’t here?”
Angus sighs, folding up his newspaper and putting it away in favor of nursing his coffee. “This and that. Bookkeeping, mostly.”
“That keeps you busy?”
“Your host has rather expensive tastes, ma’am,” Angus confesses. It’s not surprising; I saw the Lamborghini he drove away in this morning.
“Call me Roisin,” I say absently as the coffee machine jingles in completion and the smell of fresh beans fills my nose.
But when I turn to sit by Angus, he’s offering me a sheepish look. “I would feel most uncomfortable.”
I look away with a sigh, noting the paint peeling from the walls. “Okay…”
“But perhaps we could compromise?” he offers kindly, indicating for me to sit. “How does Miss Maguire sound?”
“I’ll take it.”
