Page 23 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Arabella

Sebastian was actively avoiding me.

Okay, so I didn’t know that for sure, but it had been almost a week, and we hadn’t exchanged a single word.

We had dinner in silence, which wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be, and that was it.

During the day he was gone, and I only saw him briefly at the table every evening.

I itched to speak, to break the silence, but I knew if I did I’d probably admit I’d watched him masturbate, and I didn’t think I could survive the embarrassment.

He hadn’t even given me anymore demands, and I definitely hadn’t risked looking inside his bedroom again. You know, because just in case.

But every night I found myself sneaking into the west wing, finding he never slept. He either worked out with his punching bag and weights, or he painted at all hours. Then he’d destroy the work in a fit of rage that caused me to run back to the safety of my room.

I hadn’t found the right time to bring up the debt again, but I itched to know how much I’d worked off, if any at all. The not knowing gnawed at me, leaving me stranded in a kind of purgatory, caught between hope and helplessness .

“You need to knead it harder, dear,” Beatrice said, adding a little more flour to my bread dough.

Punching it instead, I began to follow her instructions. Beatrice Potter was a lovely woman who seemed far too gentle to be working for someone like Sebastian.

She smiled so easily, and I kept catching her looking at me with the softest expression.

It was hard not to warm to her, especially when she treated me so nicely.

She must be in her late fifties, with dyed blonde hair and wisps of grey that suited her rounder face.

She had it in a perfect bun, not a strand out of place while mine was tossed on my head like a nest. But at least it was out of my face.

No hair in my fresh bread, thank you very much.

“So, how long have you known Sebastian?” I asked, wanting to learn a little bit more about him.

Beatrice stilled. “How’s that dough coming along?” She changed the subject.

I frowned, turning to find her humming to herself.

When she noticed me looking, she sighed. “I’ve known him since he was a little boy. He used to spend his summers here before…” she paused, clearing her throat.

“Before what?”

Beatrice shook her head, her smile a little more forced. “Nothing, nothing,” she continued in her unnecessarily cheery voice. “So, to properly knead the dough you must…”

I nodded at the appropriate times and even added my own comments every now and then. But my mind kept going back to Sebastian, as if I was disappointed he wasn’t there, breathing down my neck.

I should be grateful he’d left me alone, but having no sense of purpose was starting to grate.

At least when I wore his collar at the club I was doing something , even if it was simply being his doll.

It had been less than a week since I gave over my life, and already I was thankful I was being treated like an object.

There were so many things wrong with me.

Beatrice was a nice distraction, coming in to cook and organise the cleaners that sometimes came in during the day. They refused to acknowledge me, which at first I’d been a little offended by, but I decided to be the bigger person and just ignore them back.

I’d asked to help clean, just for something to do, but Beatrice had refused and invited me into the kitchen instead.

Which was why I was currently taking out my frustrations on the poor bread dough.

Beatrice made a disgruntled noise, and I turned to find Chip standing beside her. She rubbed at his white collar, where there were little splashes of red.

“Do you play chess?” he asked when I looked over at him.

“Chess?” I punched the dough once more.

His pale eyebrow cocked. “You know, the checkered board with the little–”

“Chip, haven’t you got errands?” Beatrice interrupted. “Surely, you’re far too busy to hang around here with us.”

Chip’s brows drew together, and a shadow darkened his eyes when he looked down at her. “I have time.”

“Sure, I can play chess.” It wasn’t like I had anything else planned other than reading, writing and my daily session of wallowing in self-pity. But I was sure I could move that to later.

Double checking my dough, I give it one last punch. Honestly, making bread should be part of therapy. Highly recommend.

“Is this ready to proof?” I asked.

Beatrice’s earlier light seemed to have diminished, but still she nodded with her signature smile. “Arabella, why don’t you go set the board up in the drawing room? Chip will follow with a nice cup of tea.”

Taking a paper towel, I cleaned my hands before leaving the kitchen. The drawing room was just a smaller living room without the TV up on the mezzanine. The chessboard was already set up on the side, the wooden figurines hand carved.

“Hi, sorry about that,” Chip said, unrepentant when he appeared at the top of the spiral staircase, his black tie loosened around his neck. Holding a silver tray, he set down the single China cup and saucer. Steam from the tea rose, the scent sweet.

I didn’t touch it.

“So, you play a lot of chess?” I asked, unsure how to take him.

Chip was younger than me by a couple years, and other than inviting me to dinner most evenings, we didn’t speak.

“This is my favourite game,” Chip said. “Not many games have a queen willing to die for her king.”

“And yet the king is nothing without the most powerful piece on the board.”

His eyes brightened at my reply, a small smile tugging his lips. “Touché.”

The board was already mid play, the pieces positioned. I wasn’t sure whether I was allowed to touch them, so I didn’t.

“It’s fine, Mr Devereaux won’t mind.” Chip began to reset the board.

My gaze snapped up. “Sebastian plays?”

Chip nodded, turning the board so he was the dark and I was the light. “Chess is a strategy game. It teaches you to anticipate your opponent’s move several turns in advance. The aim is to control the centre of the board, which gives you more power and options.”

“So it’s not too dissimilar to life then,” I laughed.

“Exactly.” Chip waited until I moved my first pawn before mirroring the exact same move. “It teaches you to protect your pieces and to know when to sacrifice.”

“So less like life.” I laughed more awkwardly this time, especially when Chip didn’t react with the expected smile. “So, how long have you worked for Sebastian?” I asked, moving my next pawn.

He glanced up briefly before looking down. “A few years. My mum thought I was acting out and hoped Mr Devereaux would be able to help.”

I knew he and Beatrice were mother and son, but it took me a while to notice the resemblance. Their light hair and darker eyes. “That’s nice, to be able to work with your mum.”

“She’s overbearing,” he commented, his gaze remaining on the board. “I hate that she watches me like I’m still five, waiting for me to fuck up so she can prove herself right.”

“At least she’s here,” I whispered, immediately regretting the words as soon as they’d spilled. I looked up, finding Chip watching me with an unidentifiable emotion.

“What about your mum?” he asked, moving his next piece.

Stop crying like a baby, Bella.

I hadn’t thought of my mum in so long, the memory of her voice made me jerk.

“Ara?”

“She’s not like yours,” I said, clearing my throat. “She wasn’t… there for me.”

Why are you even here, Bella?

Go in the other room. Why can’t you just leave me alone?

You’re always in the way .

I struggled to remember the good times, when she cared that I even existed. It was hard because what little memories of her I had were tainted, and I hated her for it.

“She died when I was a kid,” I continued, moving my next pawn. “When I was really young, she was present, but as I got older she seemed to sink into herself.”

It was better before you were born.

Dad and I were happy until you showed up.

This is all your fault.

I now understood she had severe depressive episodes, but as an eight-year-old I couldn’t understand why Mum didn’t want to play with me anymore.

Then she wouldn’t cook or clean for extended periods of time.

She’d argue with Dad all night and then ignore me all day when he was either working, or gambling away what little money we had.

“You can’t pick your family,” Chip muttered, moving his bishop to take out my pawn.

My smile was forced. “I guess not.”

“So, how long do you plan to be here?”

I moved another chess piece, not really paying attention. “I don’t know,” I said carefully, not sure how much to share. For all I knew, Sebastian regularly kept women here to pay off their father’s debts. “Until I’m told to leave, I suppose.”

“You think you’ll be able to leave?”

I flinched at his words, looking up to find Chip watching me once more. There hadn’t been any hostility in his voice, and he looked almost fascinated by my reaction.

You think he could keep me? I wanted to say, knowing once the debt was paid, I’d fight until my last breath to be free.

“Well,” I began, trying to make light of the situation, “I’m sure I’ll die of boredom then. I’ve already finished my book, and it’s not like I can casually leave to get a new one.”

Chip continued to watch me, not even sparing the board a single glance as he made his moves. “I’ll bring you some new books,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “Let me know what you want, and I’ll sort it.”

My grin stretched, and his returning smile was cute. “Seriously? Thanks. Being left alone with my thoughts can be dangerous.”

Chip finally looked down. “Checkmate.”

I blinked, realising he’d tricked me into giving up my king. “How?” I flicked over the piece, shaking my head to find him grinning, leaning back in his chair. “That’s bullshit. I thought I had you.”

I didn’t, but he didn’t know that.