How many libraries did this place have? That was what I focused on as I walked away from Jameson—not the feel of his body too close to mine, not the fact that Thea hadn’t been lying when she’d said that there was a girl or that she’d died.
Emily. I tried and failed to banish the whisper in my mind. Her name was Emily. I reached the main staircase and hesitated. If I went back to my wing now, if I tried to sleep, all I would do was replay my conversation with Jameson, again and again. I glanced back over my shoulder to see if he’d followed me—and saw Oren instead.
My head of security had told me I was safe here. He seemed to believe it. But still, he trailed me—invisible until he wanted to be seen.
“Turning in for the night?” Oren asked me.
“No.” There was no way I could sleep, no way I could even close my eyes—so I explored. Down one long hall, I found a theater. Not a movie theater, but something closer to an opera house. The walls were golden. A red velvet curtain obscured what had to be a stage. The seats were on an incline. The ceiling arced, and when I flipped a switch, hundreds of tiny lights came to life along that arc.
I remembered Dr. Mac telling me about the Hawthorne Foundation’s support of the arts.
The next room over was filled with musical instruments—dozens of them. I bent to look at a violin with an S carved to one side of the strings, its mirror image on the other.
“That’s a Stradivarius.” Those words were issued like a threat.
I turned to see Grayson standing in the doorway. I wondered if he’d been following us—and for how long. He stared at me, his pupils black and fathomless, the irises around them ice gray. “You should be careful, Ms. Grambs.”
“I’m not going to break anything,” I said, stepping back from the violin.
“You should be careful,” Grayson reiterated, his voice soft but deadly, “with Jameson. The last thing my brother needs is you and whatever this is.”
I glanced at Oren, but his face was impassive, like he couldn’t hear anything that passed between us. It’s not his job to eavesdrop. It’s his job to protect me—and he doesn’t see Grayson as a threat.
“This being me?” I shot back. “Or the terms of your grandfather’s will?” I wasn’t the one who’d upended their lives. But I was here, and Tobias Hawthorne wasn’t. Logically, I knew that my best option was to avoid confrontation, avoid him altogether. This was a big house.
Standing this close to Grayson, it didn’t feel nearly big enough.
“My mother hasn’t left her room in days.” Grayson stared at and into me. “Xander nearly blew himself up today. Jameson is one bad idea away from ruining his life, and none of us can leave the estate without being hounded by the press. The property damage they’ve caused alone…”
Say nothing. Turn away. Don’t engage. “Do you think this is easy for me?” I asked instead. “Do you think I want to be stalked by the paparazzi?”
“You want the money.” Grayson Hawthorne looked down at me from on high. “How could you not, growing up the way you did?”
That was just dripping with condescension. “Like you don’t want the money?” I retorted. “Growing up the way you did? Maybe I haven’t had everything handed to me my entire life, but—”
“You have no idea,” Grayson said lowly, “how ill prepared you are. A girl like you?”
“You don’t know me.” A rush of fury surged through my veins as I cut him off.
“I will,” Grayson promised. “I’ll know everything about you soon enough.” Every bone in my body said that he was a person who kept his promises. “My access to funds might be somewhat limited currently, but the Hawthorne name still means something. There will always be people tripping over themselves to do favors for any one of us.” He didn’t move, didn’t blink, wasn’t physically aggressive in any way, but he bled power, and he knew it. “Whatever you’re hiding, I’ll find it. Every last secret. Within days, I’ll have a detailed dossier on every person in your life. Your sister. Your father. Your mother—”
“Don’t talk about my mother.” My chest was tight. Breathing was a challenge.
“Stay away from my family, Ms. Grambs.” Grayson pushed past me. I’d been dismissed.
“Or what?” I called after him, and then, possessed by something I couldn’t quite name, I continued. “Or what happened to Emily will happen to me?”
Grayson jerked to a halt, every muscle in his body taut. “Don’t you say her name.” His posture was angry, but his voice sounded like it was about to crumble. Like I’d gutted him.
Not just Jameson. My mouth went dry. Emily didn’t just matter to Jameson.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Oren. His expression was gentle, but clearly, he wanted me to leave it alone.
“You won’t last a month in this house.” Grayson managed to pull himself together long enough to issue that prediction like a royal issuing a decree. “In fact, I’d lay money that you’re gone within the week.”
