Page 10

EMMA

R ules.

This house runs on rules.

I’m given a full rundown, from the kid’s rigid schedules to the restricted areas in the mansion. Some of the rules are a little peculiar, but I don’t question it.

The biggest enigma of all is Klaus Sinclair.

He’s the kid’s uncle, but I learn that he doesn’t spend much time with them. After the strange incident this morning, he retreated to his study, and I haven’t seen him since. He didn’t even join us for dinner.

The kids are asleep now. I switch off the bedside lamp and watch their peaceful faces in the moonlight.

I’m concerned about the little boy. He’s been quiet all day. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s naturally a quiet kid or if it’s the aftermath of whatever he saw this morning.

Rosalie has been very distant. She’s about ten years old, and she hates my guts.

All things considered, it could have gone worse.

As I walk back to my bedroom, I can’thelp but glance over at the room opposite mine. I’ve been told that it’s Mr. Sinclair’s room. Definitely off-limits for me.

I slip inside my room and close the door behind me.

The opulence always catches me off guard.

I can’t believe that this room is all mine.

It’s a sanctuary worthy of a queen—a canopy bed draped in velvet, glowing sconces lining the walls, and fresh lilies adorning the antique writing desk.

There’s even a kitchenette complete with a fully stocked mini fridge.

I head straight toward the balcony.

The room is gorgeous, but it’s nothing compared to the view.

The autumn air is refreshingly cold against my skin as I step outside. The stars glitter like thousands of diamonds in the night sky.The dark foliage is so vast that it’s all you can see for miles.

I close my eyes.

A smile lingers on my lips.

I think I can do this. I can stay here and take care of these kids.

Behind me, I hear the soft click of a door opening. I think it’s Mr. Sinclair. Like always, curiosity gets the best of me. I walk back inside the room and peer out into the hallway.

His spicy cologne lingers in the air. I catch him slipping inside the kid’s room.

Something tugs at my belly. I don’t know what comes over me, but I step out of my room.

My heart beats like a hummingbird inside my ribcage as I walk through the corridor.I stop in front of the kid’s room and peer through the crack in the door.

He’s standing over the kid’s sleeping forms like a dark guardian angel.

He slips a hand into his pocket and retrieves a small glass vial. It contains some clear blue liquid. I watch as Mr. Sinclair leans over James’s sleeping form and pours the blue liquid into his mouth.

What the hell?

James startles awake but calms down when he sees that it’s just his uncle.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Mr. Sinclair says. He hands the kid a glass of water. “Have some water and go back to sleep.”

The kid drinks the water and then lies back down in bed. He pulls the covers up to his chin and blinks at his uncle.

“Do you like the nanny?” Mr. Sinclair asks.

I suck in a breath. I didn’t expect him to talk about me.

James nods. “She’s nice. And she read me three books.”

“Only three?” Mr. Sinclair asks.

James blinks up at his uncle.

“Will you read me another one?” James asks in a quiet voice.

Mr. Sinclair selects a book from the wall-mounted bookshelf, but I’m still thinking about the glass vial he stashed in his back pocket.

“What are you doing, Miss Turner?” asks a stern voice.

My heart leaps out of my chest. I turn to see that it’s Helena. The light hits her face at a strange angle, casting eerie shadows across her features.

“Follow me.” Her piercing stare burns holes into my skin before she storms toward my bedroom.

I follow her, my pulse all over the place.

She looks absolutely livid. I wouldn’t be surprised if she fired me on the spot. The thought of losing this job makes tears spring to my eyes.

“Helena, I’m sorry?—”

“Quiet,” she says.

She drags me inside my bedroom and closes the door softly.

“You broke one of the rules,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I told you that you weren’t allowed to leave your room past ten o’clock at night.”

I glance at the ornate wall clock. It’s a few minutes past ten.

“I didn’t mean to,” I say. “I just heard a noise outside my room, and I...”

“And you decided to spy on the master of the house?” she finishes for me.

The coldness in her eyes catches me off guard. She’s been nothing but sweet to me since I got here. This is a side of her I haven’t seen yet.

“Am I going to lose my job?” My throat is thick with emotion, but I don’t let myself shed tears.

She blinks at me.

“No,” she says. “You’re not. But consider this a warning. The rules in this house exist for a reason.”

“Okay.” I nod.

“You’re lucky that I found you lurking there before Klaus did. He would not have been as lenient as me.”

I think about the glass vial he was carrying.

“I saw him give something to the kid,” I whisper.

“You saw nothing.” She says the words slowly. “You were in your room just like you were supposed to be.”

I take a deep breath.

I get that feeling again—that everyone in this house knows something I don’t. It makes me feel restless and agitated.

“Is that understood?” she asks.

I nod again. “Yes.”

She stares at me for a moment. Some of the anger melts from her face.

“Do you enjoy gardening?” she asks me.

I blink at the abrupt change of topic. “I do.”

“Will you help me plant some vegetables tomorrow?” she asks. “My back gives me trouble sometimes, so I can use the help.”

I nod. “I’d love to help.”

She gives me a genuine smile. “Good night, darling.”

She leaves my room, shutting the door behind her. I stare at the closed door. For whatever reason, I’m not supposed to leave my room after ten o’clock at night. Maybe it’s a security measure, but I have a feeling that’s not it.

I’m learning that it’s better not to ask questions in this house. But that only makes me more curious about this family and their secrets.

I head to the bathroom and draw myself a bath.

It’s just a bath, but it’s also the most luxurious experience of my life. The body soap smells like cinnamon butter. The Himalayan sea salt, essential oils, and dried flowers in the hot water take it to new heights.

All of the stress from the day melts from my body. My muscles have never felt more relaxed.

I stare up at the little lights on the ceiling.

Despite all the weird incidents and rules, there’s one thing I can’t deny: I feel safe here.

I know that no harm will come to me as long as I’m inside these walls.

When the water turns tepid, I slip out of the tub and dry off. I grab one of the white bathrobes and wrap it around my body. It’s so soft that I could easily fall asleep in it.

I flop onto the bed and reach for my phone. I haven’t had a chance to look at it all day.

The girls from Elysium created a group chat. I find myself smiling as I scroll through their messages. I open my email app next. The smile freezes on my face.

There’s a message that stands out among the rest.

I know exactly who it’s from even though it’s sent from a throwaway email address. There’s only a subject line. It’s only six words, but I read it over and over again in my head.

I’m always watching you, sweet Emma.

I think about the white sedan I saw the other morning. I convinced myself I was just being paranoid, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t all in my head. I wasn’t just seeing things because I was sleep-deprived.

Just like that, the invisible noose around my neck is back. And it’s getting tighter by the second.

All I know right now is that I need some fresh air.

I head to the balcony and stand in the cold breeze. It doesn’t bring me any comfort like it did earlier.

I crave the feeling of grass and soil under my feet. It’s the only thing that makes me feel grounded when my mind is reeling.

Helena’s rules are still fresh in my mind, but I’ll do anything to get my mind off the email.

I step out of my room once again.

The atmosphere in Sinclair mansion has shifted with the night. The shadows in the hallway seem to whisper among themselves as I make my way down the staircase. There’s a silence in the air now, like time itself is holding its breath.

I walk toward the back of the mansion. I open the patio doors and stare out at the swimming pool.

The chaos in my head only seems to get worse.

I focus on the way the moonlight dances across the water. I try every breathing trick I know that’s supposed to help with anxiety.

The pounding of my heart only gets worse.

He’s been watching me. He’s going to come for me. He’s going to kill me.

I walk toward the pool and look up at the stars. Tears spill down my temples. Through blurry eyes, I see a shadow behind one of the mansion’s windows—a woman’s silhouette.

I wipe my tears away and glance at the window again. There’s nothing there.

A shiver passes down my spine. I swear that I saw someone standing there. Someone with long hair and a slim build.

It’s not lost on me that this is the same window James pointed at earlier this morning.

“What are you doing, Emma?” There’s movement behind me.

I whirl around and take a step back. Mr. Sinclair emerges from the water. Water droplets run down his torso, some of the beads sticking to the hairs on his muscular chest.

I’m mesmerized by the sight of him.

I only avert my gaze when I see the way his swimming trunks mold to his body. Sharp desire unfurls inside me with an intensity I’ve never felt before.

It’s like seeing a Viking warrior in the flesh. He’s pure testosterone. Everything about him is hard, menacing, sinister.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I say.

He pulls himself up over the edge of the pool and walks straight toward me.

I start to feel my pulse in strange places.

He’s covered in thick muscle everywhere, but I also notice the scars scattered across his body like macabre constellations. I notice the mosaic of tattoos etched into his skin. I have the strange desire to meticulously study each and every one of them.

“Didn’t Helena brief you on the rules?” he asks.

“She did,” I whisper.

“And you chose to ignore them?”

His piercing dark eyes are too much.

My eyes drop to his chest. Some of the hairs on his chest are gray. I don’t understand why that sends a pang of desire through me.

I give him an honest answer.

“I needed some fresh air,” I say.

“You’re aware that your room comes with windows, right?”

It’s not enough.

Nothing’s ever enough to take the fear away.

“Why don’t you join us for breakfast or dinner?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Sorry?”

“It would make the kids happy if you ate with them,” I say.

“They hate being here,” he whispers. “They hate that this is their life now.”

His eyes look like they’re lost in another time and place. I don’t think he meant to say the words out loud.

“They’re lucky to have you,” I say gently. “I can tell that you really care about them.”

His gaze snaps back to mine.

Everything hardens, from his eyes to the set of his mouth.

“You should go,” he says.

I guess he’s back to being an asshole.

“And next time you leave your room, at least make sure you’re dressed appropriately,” he adds.

His eyes are burning embers. They study my lips before traveling down my body. I glance down at myself and realize that the sash around my waist has come undone, revealing a slice of skin all the way down to my navel. And it’sobvious that I’m not wearing anything underneath the robe.

His jaw clenches when I glance back up at him.

Our eyes lock.

Blood rushes to my ears. My head fills with white noise.

I really like the thought of him looking at me. I like the thought of him liking what he sees.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, tugging at the sash until it comes completely undone.

All the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. My legs turn to jelly as he tugs me closer using his grip on my robe. His fingers move with deft precision, tying the sash over my waist without touching my body.

I do nothing to stop him.

If anything, I crave more of his touch. I have a feeling it will make me forget about everything that haunts my head tonight.

“I don’t think this is any better,” he says, glaring at my tits.

He’s tied it way too tight. The robe arranged itself in a way that makes my breasts plump up like they’re sitting in a push-up bra.

Desire swims in his eyes, along with a glint of something feral.

The cover of the moonlight makes this illicit tension feel permissible. I have the urge to move closer toward him, to bridge the gap between right and wrong.

But if we crossed the line now, there’s no coming back.

He takes a step closer. I have to tilt my head all the way back just to look at him. His body heat envelops me like a forbidden embrace.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from me, little girl.”

Without waiting for a reply, he walks away from me. I watch him disappear into the shadows.

In his absence, I feel the chill of the night air. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the cold sinks into my bones.

I glance up at the window again.

I feel it again—the premonitionof being watched by invisible eyes.