Page 25 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)

It’s day seven of my captivity, and my patience is wearing thin.

Each passing day without talking to my dad makes the worry harder to bear

Bella promised she’d ask Thane for my phone after mentioning that Des found it in the bathroom at Robertson’s. He’d handed it over to Thane for safekeeping the day I arrived, but the Immortal leader still hasn’t returned it to me.

Which isn’t cool.

I need to talk to my dad. I need to hear him tell me he’s doing okay.

The fact I haven’t spoken to Lome since we made our deal only makes my anxiety worse. He has to be avoiding me… which means he could be reneging on our deal.

I dig my nails into my palms, needing something—anything—to stop me from exploding.

I have to act.

I won’t sit around and wait for the Immortals to sort out their rebellion problem. Not without assurance that Lome followed through on his promise.

That’s why I’m on the third floor, moving from room to room, searching for a phone, computer—hell, I’ll even take a fax machine. I just need something that will let me contact Dad.

As I rifle through the bright sitting areas and untouched guest bedrooms, I can’t help but notice the ridiculous number of priceless artifacts around me: paintings by Renaissance masters, sculptures from ancient Greece, items that would make my dad lose his mind.

“This stuff seriously belongs in a museum,” I mutter, kneeling to admire a stone masonry set sitting under a narrow table between the room’s massive windows.

A distinct accent floats in the air. “I agree.”

My head snaps up. Eshe stands in the doorway, watching me with an unreadable expression, her kohl-lined eyes narrowed in assessment.

“Oh.” I move to jump to my feet, bumping my head against a low table. “Ow.” I wince, rubbing the sore spot at the back of my skull, flashing her a nervous smile. “Um… hi?”

“Hello.” She steps into the room. Her accent is rich and musical, unlike the polished aristocratic, European tones of the other members of her family. “We have not been formally introduced. I’m Eshe.”

“I know.” I nervously extend my arm. “I’m Darcie.”

For a moment, she stares at my offered hand. I start to lower it, feeling silly, but then she reaches out and shakes my hand with a firm grip.

“Yes, I know as well.” Her eyes twinkle with subtle amusement as she releases my hand. Hers falls gracefully to her side. “What were you looking at?”

I gesture toward the stone items on the shelf under the table. “Those tools. I was trying to guess how old they are.”

She examines them for a moment. “They are from the Bronze Age.”

My mouth falls open in shock. “Really? That’s ancient!” I marvel at their condition. “Shouldn’t these be behind glass or something?”

Her lips twitch as though she’s suppressing a smile. “Probably, but these relics were collected from the brothers’ travels throughout human history. Thane has been known to sell an artifact or two to expand his financial portfolio, but most remain on display here.”

That explains the Immortals’ absurdly lavish lifestyle.

My attention shifts to a painting I’d admired earlier, a serene landscape of a small cabin surrounded by dense forest.

“That’s an original Giorgione.” Eshe steps closer to the painting. Her fingers lightly brush the gold nameplate nailed to the bottom frame. “He and Thane were quite close when we lived in Venice in the early 1600s.”

Wow. It’s a struggle to pick my jaw up off the floor. “That’s… amazing.”

Her brows lift. “Are you a fan of art?”

“I appreciate it, but I’m no expert.”

The way Eshe stands observing the painting, so absorbed in the piece, makes me think she’s likely an expert.

The Immortal tilts her head, studying me. “Would you like to see the da Vinci pieces Lome acquired during the Renaissance? They’re not well-known, but they’re beautiful works nonetheless.”

My breath catches. “Da Vinci? The da Vinci?”

Her black hair shifts as she nods. “They are displayed in the main parlor. You’ve probably passed them already—they’re small, easy to miss.”

Speechless, all I can do is bob my head, then follow Eshe out of the room in an excited daze.

The exotic Immortal has kept her distance this past week. I’m not sure what to make of her sudden interest in talking to me, but I’m not going to overthink it. Not after only having Bella for company.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy spending time with Bella. She’s taught me a lot about the Immortals and the fantastical world I never knew existed. I would’ve gone crazy here without her, but there’s no harm in having someone else to talk to.

Besides, maybe I can ask Eshe for help to contact my dad.

After all, she respected me enough to tell me the truth about their immortality when the others were fine keeping me in the dark. If any Immortal would be willing to help me break Thane’s rule about contacting my dad, she’s my best bet.

I debate how to broach the subject as we walk to the first floor.

An Immortal, one I’ve never spoken to before, appears at the foot of the stairs, carrying a basket filled with tools.

“Hello,” I greet with a smile.

Pale green eyes meet mine briefly before the man averts his gaze and begins climbing the steps, moving past me with a sense of urgency, as though his very life depends on it.

I stop and watch him leave with a frown, not because his behavior is strange—though it is—but because, for the first time, I realize I haven't dreamed of haunting green eyes in days.

Seven days, to be exact .

My stomach drops, unease settling in like a thick fog.

What could that mean?

My gut says nothing good.

“Don’t be offended.” Eshe’s voice pulls me out of my troubling thoughts. She glances over her shoulder to where the stranger moves out of sight on the second floor. “Des instructed all servants to keep their distance from you.”

Unease morphs into confusion. “He has?”

She nods.

I scowl. “Why?”

“No idea.” She shrugs, but her tone is a little too light for me to believe her.

I bite my lip.

I don’t want to risk losing any goodwill I may have with Eshe, especially not before I ask about a phone. But damn, the subtle smirk tugging at her lips kills me. It’s almost like she knows something, and I’m dying to figure out what it is.

We reach the grand foyer. Eshe and I walk toward an unassuming white door that stands out against the opulence of the mansion. I’ve seen it before. It looks like a coat closet, but the sound of muffled conversation beyond makes it clear that’s not the case.

Without hesitation, Eshe opens the door, stepping inside with a fluid grace. The room is empty, devoid of any furniture. Black marble floors glimmer under the sunlight streaming through an unseen window.

I follow, excited to see the rare da Vinci paintings. I don’t notice the conversation inside has stopped.

“Eshe?” Lome’s voice rings out from somewhere out of sight. “Is something wrong?”

I cross the threshold. The air shifts, and eight pairs of eyes lock onto me .

It’s like I become paralyzed. My muscles lock into place.

Thick silence settles over the room. And in that silence, everything becomes clear: I shouldn’t be here.

I should’ve noticed the surprise, and the disapproval, in Lome’s voice when he addressed Eshe. I should’ve seen the gleam of triumph in Eshe’s eyes when I crossed the threshold.

But I didn’t.

Now, I’m a pawn in another unknown Immortal game.

Shit.

I gaze from one stunning face to the next, my apprehension growing like a storm cloud with each passing second.

Then, I spot a familiar face. Three faces, in fact.

Shock widens Lome’s eyes, though they lack the anger I expected after realizing I’ve crashed a secret meeting of some kind.

Thane, however, is another story. The Immortal leader’s glare is hard, his nostrils flaring.

His narrowed eyes lock on Eshe as though she’s committed an unforgivable sin by bringing me into this room.

And then there’s Des. His face is as unreadable as ever, a mask of calm that hides whatever tempest brews underneath.

A slow, mocking clap breaks the tension simmering between Eshe and the brothers.

A blond man steps forward, separating himself from the group of attractive, living statues. He’s tall, with a chiseled jaw and an air of arrogance that immediately unsettles me.

“Well, well, well…” the man draws out the words, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who do we have here?”

Eshe shifts, positioning herself between me and the stranger.

The faintest smirk tugs the corner of his mouth as his eyes meet mine over her head before he spins on his heel dismissively. “You were saying? ”

I don’t know who he’s talking to, but I feel the weight of everyone’s attention. Lome and Thane exchange a glance while Des, whose eyes rest entirely on me, doesn’t so much as blink.

It’s been days since I last looked into his hazel eyes, and yet the intensity of the feelings they stir in me is as sharp as ever.

I shouldn't be reacting like this, not when I know the kind of man Des is. Cold, distant, and a key player in bringing me here to be imprisoned by his brothers. Yes, he saved me from Evetta, but that doesn’t absolve him of the role he played in my captivity.

So why do I feel like I might melt into a puddle on the floor whenever he looks at me?

I shake off my weird physical response and focus on what’s happening around me.

Lome breaks the loaded silence that follows the man’s question, his voice unwavering. “This woman is not Des’s One .”

Relief crashes through me, only to be promptly replaced by confusion.

Despite Des's protests, Lome and Thane have been claiming— no, insisting —that I am Des’s One . So why is he changing his story now?

I don’t trust it for a second.

But I keep quiet, resolved to watch this scene unfold. For once, I have front-row seats to figure out what’s going on in real time.

“She is not Des’s One ,” the blond stranger repeats, doubt lacing his words as he eyes me up and down. “And yet… she is in your home.”