Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“Oh, look at her, Corbin,” she said softly, her voice dripping with a kind of fascination that sent a chill down my spine.
The man—Corbin—smiled, his eyes flicking between me and the woman, though he said nothing. He didn’t need to. The way they both looked at me, like I was something to be studied, made my pulse race.
Alexander's grip on my waist tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing against my side in a subtle reminder that I wasn’t alone.
The woman’s face was full of emotion as she stared at me, her eyes wide and sparkling with something that looked like awe—or curiosity. She was striking, delicate, doll-like in her appearance, yet there was something intensely alive in the way she looked at me. Alexander’s voice cut through the moment, grounding me in the present.
“Lolita, this is my Aunt Beatrice,” he said, his hand still firmly at my waist, “and my Uncle Corbin. They’re Bishop’s parents.”
Beatrice stepped forward with a kind of eagerness, her hands outstretched toward me. For a moment, I hesitated, confused by the gesture, but then, uncertain, I placed my hands in hers. It felt strange—too intimate, too formal—but I couldn’t deny her.
“Hi,” I managed, my voice softer than I intended, unsure of what to expect from her.
Beatrice stepped even closer, practically beaming as she looked me over. “She’s so pretty,” she said with breathless enthusiasm, her gaze unwavering. Then she turned her head slightly to Corbin, her voice dropping to something like a whisper, though it was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Isn’t she?”
Corbin grinned, clearly used to his wife’s way of behaving.
His tall frame loomed over her as he nodded, his smile easygoing but full of pride. “Of course she is,” he said, his deep voice warm with approval. “She’s one of the Alistairs.”
“Good answer,” Esther chimed in with a playful smirk.
Beatrice tightened her grip on my hands and started to lead me away from the door, pulling me deeper into the house. I glanced back at Alexander, but he simply smiled, clearly comfortable with whatever was happening.
“Well, come on,” Beatrice said, her excitement palpable. “She’s waiting.”
The others followed behind us as Beatrice led me through the grand hallway, and soon we entered a richly decorated room—a parlor, I guessed, the kind of space only the incredibly wealthy seemed to have. Dark, intricate woodwork lined the walls, and plush, crimson furniture filled the space, illuminated by the dim, golden light of chandeliers hanging above.
And then I saw her.
The back of a woman’s head, her hair pulled into a sleek, elegant style. Alexander’s father was standing beside her, a tall, commanding figure, but it wasn’t him that drew my attention. No, it was the woman sitting on the sofa, facing away from us. Instinctively, I felt something familiar, something that tugged at the edges of my memory. Alexander’s father bent down, murmuring something to the woman. She paused for a moment, then slowly stood, turning around to face us.
The moment her eyes met mine, I had to fight to control my reaction.
I knew her.
She was the woman who had warned me about her son—the very same night he had taken me. The shock of recognition hit me like a wave, my heart pounding as the memory of the words she’d written on a small piece of paper came back to me.
Diabolus has come for you.
I had reread the note, confusion swirling in my mind. The words didn’t make sense. Diabolus? I didn’t know what it meant at the time. Before I could press for more, I’d caught sight of Shana, my supervisor, making her way toward us. I’d only glanced away for a second, but when I looked back, the woman snatched the note from my hand and, to my shock, stuffed it into her mouth. She hadn’t said another word, hadn’t tried to explain. She just walked away, her movements stiff, as if every step took effort. I’d been left there, speechless.
Alexander’s mother stepped closer; her gaze locked onto mine with the same intensity I remembered from that night. It was the same look, the same subtle urgency, but now it all made sense. I swallowed hard, struggling to keep my expression neutral as I pieced everything together.
I could feel Alexander’s presence beside me, his hand still resting possessively on my waist, his warmth seeping into me, grounding me in the present even as the past threatened to overwhelm me. I couldn’t afford to lose control now. Not here. Not in front of all of them. Alexander’s father spoke softly to his wife, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. She straightened, her eyes never leaving mine.
“You’ve met before,” Alexander’s father said, his voice low and certain.
How he clocked that immediately was beyond me, but I guessed it came from knowing his wife better than anyone else, almost like how his son knew me.