Chapter 7
Thunder cracked outside, shaking the windowpanes.
The room was dark, lit only by a single lamp.
Kristopher pointed to the left side of the massive King bed. "You sleep there. Stay on your side. If you cross the center line, there will be consequences."
Eleonora grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. She lay down on the very edge of the mattress, balancing precariously.
Kristopher lay down on the right. He lay on his back, hands folded over his stomach like a corpse.
Minutes ticked by.
Eleonora couldn't sleep. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a hollow ache.
She shifted. The mattress moved.
"Stop moving," Kristopher said from the dark.
"I can't help it. I'm not used to... this."
CRACK-BOOM.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the room in stark blue-white.
Eleonora gasped and curled into a ball, pulling the duvet over her head.
Kristopher turned his head. "Are you afraid of thunder?"
"No," came the muffled reply. "It's just loud."
Another boom. The bed shook with Eleonora's trembling.
Kristopher sighed. It was a heavy, long-suffering sound.
He sat up. He grabbed a remote and pressed a button. The heavy blackout curtains slid shut, sealing out the flashes. He pressed another button. The sound of ocean waves filled the room, drowning out the rain.
Eleonora peeked out from the duvet.
Kristopher lay back down and turned away from her. "Go to sleep."
Eleonora stared at his broad back. The tension in her shoulders loosened.
She drifted off.
But sleep brought the old dreams. The basement. The cold. The noise.
In her sleep, she sought warmth. It was a biological imperative.
She rolled.
She crossed the center line.
Kristopher was awake. He felt the dip in the mattress. Then, he felt a warm, soft weight press against his side.
Eleonora's arm draped over his waist. Her head nuzzled into his shoulder.
Kristopher froze. Every muscle in his body went rigid.
He reached down to push her away.
"Please," she mumbled in her sleep. "Don't turn off the light."
His hand hovered over her arm.
He smelled her shampoo. Vanilla and honey. It was the same shampoo the maids stocked in his bathroom.
He didn't push her.
Slowly, tentatively, he lowered his arm. He let her stay.
The warmth of her body seeped into his side, thawing a cold spot he hadn't realized was there. For the first time in months, the racing thoughts in his head slowed down.
He closed his eyes.
Chapter 8
Sunlight streamed into the dining room.
Eleonora sat at one end of the long table, staring at a plate of Eggs Benedict she was too nervous to eat.
Beatrice sat at the head, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"I heard you two slept well," she said. "The maids said the bed was... disheveled."
Eleonora choked on her orange juice.
Kristopher cut a piece of bacon with surgical precision. "She snores," he said flatly.
Eleonora kicked him under the table. Her heel connected with his shin.
Kristopher didn't flinch. He took a bite of bacon.
"He grinds his teeth," Eleonora said, smiling sweetly at Beatrice. "Like a rabid dog."
Beatrice laughed, clapping her hands. "Chemistry! I love it."
Arthur stepped forward with a velvet box. "From Mrs. Schaefer."
He placed it in front of Eleonora.
Eleonora opened it. A massive emerald necklace lay on the black velvet. It was heavy, ancient, and clearly priceless.
"This was Kristopher's mother's," Beatrice said. "It belongs to the lady of the house."
Eleonora snapped the box shut. "I can't accept this."
"Take it," Beatrice commanded. Her eyes narrowed. "Or I will assume you are rejecting this family."
Eleonora looked at Kristopher. Help me.
Kristopher looked at her. He saw the panic. She wasn't greedy. She was terrified of the obligation.
"Take it," Kristopher said softly. "Wear it."
It was an order, but it was also permission.
Eleonora put it on. The cold stones settled against her collarbone. It felt like a collar.
"Sir," Arthur interrupted. "The car is ready."
Kristopher stood up. "I'll drop you off. Where are you going?"
"The city," Eleonora said, grabbing her backpack. "I have research to do."
Kristopher raised an eyebrow. "Research?"
"I'm a forensic accountant," Eleonora said, slinging her bag over one shoulder. "Don't look so shocked. I can read a balance sheet."
Kristopher watched her walk to the door. The emeralds glittered against her casual t-shirt.
"Arthur," Kristopher murmured. "Re-run the background check. Dig deeper. The file we have is wrong."
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