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He’s still scrolling on his phone, looking absorbed.
OK, so maybe I’ll have a little more freedom to snoop around than I thought, if he can’t even look at me.
Then the elevator doors open on the main floor, and I have to change my mind. A hulking man in a black suit is waiting for us, along with a line of other staff. The beast steps forward the second we get off the elevator, his eyes on Sebastian.
“Welcome home, sir,” he says, in a thick Cockney accent.
“Leon.” Sebastian nods. “This is Avery.” Leon’s gaze shifts to me, and it lingers curiously. “She’ll be staying with me for the month.”
“Got it.”
“Leon is the house manager,” Sebastian tells me. “He’s in charge of my staff, so if you need anything, you can ask him, and he’ll take care of it.”
“Okay, thanks.” I say, giving the man a small smile. He seems like a good person to have on my side.
Leon stares back, impassive.
“Make yourself at home.” Seb doesn’t wait for a reply before walking off, down the hallway to what looks like an office. He steps inside and firmly closes the door behind him.
“Come with me, ma’am, and I’ll show you your room.”
Leon is waiting.
“You can call me Avery,” I tell him, but he doesn’t crack a smile, he just heads for the
grand staircase.
I follow, looking curiously around. Just like the exterior, everything here is modern and gleaming new. High-end furniture, modern art, lots of white and black ironwork.
The second floor has an open, loft walkway, allowing me to see down in the foyer and great room below. I follow Leon down the hallway, passing gorgeous and probably priceless paintings on the walls along the way.
I wonder if these are just copies, too.
Leon leads me to at a door at the far end, revealing a spacious bedroom suite, with a bathroom, dressing room, and even a small space with a personal gym. It’s decorated tastefully in more shades of white and navy, like some kind of hotel suite.
“I’ll have your things brought up from the car,” he says. “If you want to go anywhere, just ask for Frank. He’s the driver. And this is for you, to buy whatever clothes and things you need.” He produces a black credit card, with Sebastian’s name on it.
I take it slowly. “Umm, what’s the limit?” I ask hesitantly. “I mean, did he say what I was allowed to spend?”
Leon looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Mr. Wolfe doesn’t have limits,” he says, and I have to stifle a smile.
Because I sure as hell know what I’m doing for the rest of the day.
Shopping.
I take Frank,and the Benz, and hit the stores for the rest of the day. I have zero luggage to speak of, and no idea what lies ahead for me, so I’m starting from scratch here.
And every character needs the right costume.
It takes me a hot minute to get into it. I keep reaching for outfits I would wear in real life: cool leather jackets, studded boots, sharp angles, and bold cuts.
But then I remember, I’m not me anymore. I’m the Little Sparrow who’s going to peck out Sebastian’s eyes.
And I need to look the part.
So, I hit the designer stores on Bond Street. Gucci, St Laurent. Harrods. I buy dresses and jewelry, shoes and gowns. The totals ring up with so many zeroes, I feel faint, but soon I get into the swing of things, and every pound I spend feels like a little ‘fuck you’ to Sebastian.
It’s dirty money, anyway. I might as well take full advantage, right?
