“Sit!” Magda instructed in her brusque accent. A plate thumped down on the table behind me. “Your food is ready.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at her as I headed back to the table.
Her head bobbed once, the only indication that she’d heard me. She moved immediately to another task, tossing a cutting board’s worth of chopped potatoes into a pot of simmering water.
I devoured breakfast, using my toast to sop up the yolk from my eggs and accepting a second helping of bacon. I noticed Leo watching from the corner of his eye while pretending to read his magazine, an amused but relieved smirk on his face.
“Good! I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you being too miserable to eat,” he commented as I set my fork down, finished.
I smiled, gathered my dishes, and carried them to the sink. Magda’s helper, a middle-aged, mousy woman named Martha, politely shooed me away, whisking the dishes out of my hand before I had a chance to wash them.
“They are working for you now, per Sofie’s instructions,” Leo explained.
“Oh.” I smiled at Magda, whose eyes flicked to me before refocusing on her pot. I felt my cheeks burn, and wondered what they thought of me. I didn’t need servants, but I knew refusing was out of the question, so I didn’t bother. I turned to Leo. “Okay, what now?” What did a person do to kill time when they were exiled in the wilderness?
“Relax! Enjoy life,” Leo murmured, waving his hand dismissively toward the great room. “There’re plenty of books to read.”
Taking the hint, I left the kitchen’s delicious aroma, my giant werebeast in tow, as usual. “Don’t you need to eat?” I asked over my shoulder.
I’m ready to gnaw someone’s arm off but I’ll go later, when the others get back. We go in shifts so someone’s always around here, he explained.
“Why? It’s not like anyone’s going to find us.”
Stranger things have happened.
“I guess.” Like talking telepathically to a werebeast who’d decided to switch masters. Or being cursed and sent to another world. Or falling madly in love with a vampire who then tried to kill me. My life was all about the strange.
I rounded the corner to find a dark-haired guy standing and staring out a window, a small hardcover book in his hand. Julian. He half turned at the sound of my footsteps.
Speaking of gnawing on arms, Max muttered.
“Good morning,” I said cheerily, ignoring my hungry werebeast’s subtle threat. Suddenly conscious of my fuzzy pink pajamas, I pulled the ties of my robe tighter.
There was no need. Julian turned back to gaze out the window without a word, leaving me to stare at the back of his raven-haired head. Not surprising. The young Colombian had yet to show a side that challenged Sofie’s derogatory opinion of him. He and his sister, Valentina, were part of Viggo and Mortimer’s beard family—a cover for their existence and their lavish home on Fifth Avenue. I had practically begged that they be protected from Viggo’s deadly grip, the only reason Sofie hadn’t left them in that death trap.
I wouldn’t waste my energy on that one, Max said.
I sighed and walked over to scan titles on the bookshelf beside the fireplace, obedient to Leo’s instruction to relax. I noticed that one shelf housed every single one of my favorite novels, and a small metal sign posted on the shelf identified them as Evangeline’s Picks. I smiled. The other shelves were full of unfamiliar titles, surely chosen by Sofie for that very reason.
I grabbed a book with a plum cover and took a step back, only to bump into Max, who had edged up behind me. “Max!” I whispered in exasperation, turning to see the dog eyeing Julian. I followed his gaze to find Julian’s attention on us. On me. Our eyes locked. It was the first time I had ever looked at him dead on. Sofie was right—he was really good-looking in that tall, dark, and Latin way. For a second I thought he would speak. But then his brow knitted into a scowl and he turned back to gaze out at the snow, leaving me staring awkwardly at his back for the second time. Being in exile with him is going to be long and painful. At least Valentina was here. I had only met her the one time, but she seemed nice enough.
My eyes wandered around the room, looking for something else to fix my attention on. They quickly zoned in on three oil paintings on the opposite wall. Yesterday, distracted with my abrupt arrival and the following revelations, I hadn’t noticed the paintings. Now I had time to study them.
Each one depicted a little blonde girl in a different scenario. Me. Me jumping through puddles; me playing with my dolls; me petting a speckled gray Pomeranian. Glancing around the room, I found two more that were very clearly of me. “You weren’t kidding, Max,” I murmured under my breath, waves of shock rippling through my body. I glanced at Max and saw something close to a grin on his muzzle.