Page 21 of Nothing More

“Yes, nothing,” Raven muttered under her breath. Louder, sharp and businesslike: “Alright, then. I suppose there’s some sort of security report, and I’d dearly like for that to occurindoors, gentlemen.”

Bennet nodded and reached behind him to open the door. “I can take a hint.”

Toly couldhearthe way she wanted to roll her eyes.

They all trooped inside – into a wide entryway floored in blond herringbone floorboards that matched the doors to either side that led to two coat closets and a powder room. The table here was a rectangle, set with three blue glass bowls full of white hydrangeas, low arrangements that didn’t block the view into the living room beyond, and its high windows spilling wan evening light across all of Raven’s French-inspired furniture.

Cassandra started to walk straight through, and Toly said, “Wait.”

Everyone froze. Later, he might examine the little rush that gave him. For now, she glanced back over her shoulder, and he in turn glanced at Bennet.

“Everything’s clear. You’re good to go, hon,” he told Cassandra, and the girl slipped away.

Raven hung up her jacket and scarf, and walked through the vast living room toward her gleaming kitchen. “Miles,” she said over her shoulder, “I thought you could stay in the blue room. Do you know the way?”

“I can find it. Lemme put my stuff down.”

Toly thumbed both locks on the front door – he’d insisted on having a second installed when he first took this gig – and then he and Bennet followed the mistress of the house.

It was a good thing he’d had years of experience moving through employers’ lavish homes, because otherwise he might have gaped like an idiot over Raven’s place. Four bedrooms, three-and-a-half bathrooms, with a chef’s kitchen done up like a Loire Valley country estate, a dining room that comfortably sat twelve, with not one, but three chandeliers hung down its center. Toly had only ever been inside the common areas, including the powder room, once, when he’d arrived and realized he had dirt under his nails; the idea of her judgmental gaze landing on it had rattled his normally-unshakeable disinterest, and he’d scrubbed his hands with lavender soap until they were pink and pruney before facing her once more.

“Anything out of the ordinary?” he asked Bennet, leaning in to whisper as they moved through the living room.

“Nah. Same as ever. Oh, but, look. Come here.” Bennet walked him back to the entryway, and pointed to a corner of a small landscape painting hung between the two closet doors.

The camera was so tiny he had to lean in and tilt his head to see it properly, a tiny black eye, hidden in the ornate scrollwork of the picture frame.

“It sees the door, this whole foyer, and most of the living room,” Bennet said.

Toly sent him an impressed look – though he’d been told it was more of a sour look from the outside. “Youset this up?”

“C’mon, you don’t gotta say it like that.”

Toly stared.

He sighed. “Okay, I put it in place. But it came with some kinda app or something. Maybe the little brother can sync it up to a computer. He’s good with all that technology shit, right?”

“Da.”

“Gentlemen,” Raven called from around the corner. A summons.

Bennet chuckled quietly under his breath. “She’s a real ballbuster, huh? Reminds me of my second wife.”

Toly sent him a look meant to be derisive.

Bennet shrugged. “Okay, yeah, not really. If any of my wives had looked like that, they coulda ripped my balls right off for all I care. I’m just saying–”

“I know what you’re saying,” Toly said, firmly, and the other man wisely shut up.

In the kitchen, Raven stood behind the long, marble-topped island, glass of white wine to her lips, open bottle beading with condensation on the countertop. She’d taken off her shoes; he could tell by the change in her height, even before he spotted her pumps toed neatly off in front of the stove.

She set the glass down with a click and turned it by the stem, the crystal ringing faintly with each circle, chocolate-painted nails clicking in a nervous tic so subtle that anyone who wasn’t familiar with her would have missed it.

Toly didn’t miss it. Nor did he miss the stress buried deeply behind her schooled gaze.

She looked at both of them, direct and stern. There’d be no playing, now; no teasing quips or airy dismissals. She was as serious and as ruthless as any of her brothers. Her accent was knife-edged in moments like these.

Toly kind of liked it.